Chapter 2 - Marco

I stood before Giovanni Mancini, the Capo of the Cosa Nostra, hyper-aware of his every move. After all, I knew he was capable of many things.

The last time our people met was two years ago when we sealed our truce to focus on our common enemies. Back then, my father was still the Capo of the Camorra. Now, that title was mine, and the matter at hand was even more urgent.

“The Russians are forming alliances, marrying, and uniting their organizations. We can’t just keep attacking them only for them to send more men the next week,” I said calmly and directly, my fingers interlaced on the table, projecting a composure I didn’t truly feel. After all, we were still enemies, even under a truce.

“I agree with you. I’ve heard they’re making ties with the cartels and planning to join forces with the Japanese. We can’t let that happen, or it’ll be an even bloodier war,” Mancini replied.

At least he was sensible. I knew Giovanni was ruthless, unafraid of wars or new challenges. He would do anything to put the Famiglia first, so I hoped today’s matter would be resolved quickly and easily.

“That’s why now is the time to extend this truce, uniting the Camorra and the Cosa Nostra, expanding our territory and firepower!” I declared, catching him off guard. His gray eyebrows shot up, showing he hadn’t expected this. “A marriage. We’ll unite our people with a sacred union that will bear children, the fruits that will seal the future of our empire.”

“Marriage? And who would marry?” he asked, seeming genuinely intrigued. “You’re the Capo and at a great age for marriage, but your brother would also be a fine match for this deal.”

Nero shifted slightly behind me, likely uncomfortable with the idea of marriage since he had a genuine aversion to relationships. I shared the sentiment—any thought of being tied to one woman made me want to claw my eyes out—but these times called for drastic, even uncomfortable measures.

“I’ll be the one to marry, Mancini. I’m proposing to marry your daughter!”

He narrowed his eyes, studying me while I kept my expression neutral, as if this were an everyday matter. But the truth was, I had planned everything, weighing all the pros and cons.

I couldn’t deny that seeing photos of Angela Mancini helped me make that decision. The woman was a vision—delicate, beautiful, with eyes that seduced despite the innocence she exuded. I was eager to meet her, to be close to her, because everything I’d uncovered about her wasn’t enough to truly know who Angela was. It was just crumbs about the Capo’s daughter.

“And you expect me to hand my daughter over to you, so you can take over our entire organization as well?” he accused, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Frank slide his hand inside his jacket, where I knew my second-in-command carried weapons and knives.

“Are you accusing me of trying to double-cross you, Mancini?” I asked, deepening my tone and letting him draw his own conclusions about what would happen here if he didn’t choose his words carefully. After all, we were on my territory.

“Don’t misunderstand me, but that’s what it looks like. Angela is my firstborn, but one day everything should pass to my son, not my daughter’s husband. You’re influential, with a lot of power, and could sway everyone in your favor.”

“I didn’t call you here for that. If you don’t trust your men, that’s your problem, not mine. What I’m proposing is an alliance, a union to win this war and expand our territory.”

Giovanni stared at me in silence, pushing my patience to the limit. I knew he didn’t care about the girl. Angela was of no use to him beyond a good marriage, and I highly doubted he’d marry her to someone outside our dark world.

And that only led me to think he was scheming something else, plotting a plan in that dirty little mind of his.

“I’ll discuss it with the council,” he said finally, standing and extending his hand toward me. “I’ll give you an answer by tomorrow.”

I shook his hand and nodded in response before he left the nightclub’s office. The door closed, my men returned to their posts, and I finally let out a breath, slumping carelessly into the chair.

“Do you really think he’ll talk to the council?” Frank asked while my brother poured us each a shot of whiskey.

“He will, but it’s definitely for another reason. I’m almost certain Giovanni will make this same proposal to another organization just out of spite,” I muttered, grabbing the glass and staring at the amber liquid, so similar to Angela’s eyes.

Her name evoked an angel, matching her appearance, while I was seen as a demon—the most feared and bloodthirsty man in the Camorra.

“I’ll alert our informant,” Frank said, leaving to ensure the new information reached us.

“You could make this proposal to other organizations too,” my brother said, slumping into the chair Giovanni had just vacated. “Why not propose it to the Japanese before they ally with the Russians? Or go straight to the Bratva—a blonde wife wouldn’t be so bad.”

I smirked at him, taking a sip of the whiskey. Yes, I could do that, but it wasn’t what I wanted. I had no interest in alliances with the Russians beyond hatred, not at the moment. Though Nero’s idea wasn’t bad, my focus was elsewhere.

And it didn’t take two days for our suspicions to be confirmed. Our informant provided Mancini’s location, confirming he had gone to meet with the 'Ndrangheta bosses.

“He’ll pay dearly for this. He’ll wish he had accepted my deal,” I growled, watching the bastards part ways after sealing their agreement.

“You know he hates us, ever since our father killed his during the war,” Nero said.

“It was war, Nero. What did you expect? People die on both sides. He shouldn’t be so prideful as to be this foolish,” I said through gritted teeth. “We’re going to take her. We’ll steal Angela Mancini from right under their noses, on her wedding day.”

“Have you lost your mind, Marco?” my brother pressed. “Make the same proposal to the Bratva, marry a Russian, and make them suffer!”

“Maybe you should listen to your consigliere,” Frank said from the front seat as we watched them leave. “Let them think they’ve won, and we’ll come back even stronger.”

No! I couldn’t let them hand her over to that worm. The little angel would be mine. Soon, she would be Angela Falcone, carrying my name and showing everyone she belonged to me.

“If you’re so sensible, marry a Russian yourself. I’d be more than proud to make that deal in your name, Nero,” I said, my final word. “Prepare for the attack. We have one month to plan everything, and I don’t want any mistakes.”