الحب المسيطر: العروس الثمينة لياسر

ADONIS

Nine years ago

I had killed a man an hour ago, only to become something I had never imagined—the boss of the most powerful crime family in the New York Cosa Nostra. The capo of the Vitale Crime Empire.

Everyone expected me to give a speech about this uplifting experience, to tell them of the plans I had for the future of this syndicate. To say I had any would’ve been a lie. Everything about this was sudden, a catastrophe I couldn’t put a stop on.

But, lucky for me, the moment I stepped on the stage, a courier arrived in my name—a box wrapped in colourful papers and adorned with ribbons like a fucking Christmas gift—stopping me from giving a speech I hadn’t even prepared.

“Open the box,” dozens of suited men now under my reign yelled, curiosity piquing in their voices.

I had no choice but to oblige.

I hadn’t received a present in ages, at least not in boxes unless they were dead bodies of traitors and liabilities, or expensive drugs, weapons and liquors. This box looked too tacky to be one of those.

And the contents were even fishier.

A disk was encased inside with the words ‘Happy Initiation’ written on it with a marker and italicised calligraphy as if it was for a christening ceremony. I wondered which Mafioso had time for shit like this.

“Where do I play it?” I asked and looked around. I couldn’t remember the names of half the people present in the room, yet I pretended as though I did.

The former capo and my uncle, David, had warned me about this. “Be discreet and have a keen eye, Adonis. Know those around you and watch their every step.” Over the course of my life, he had said many things, but I hadn’t imagined those words to become the key to my survival.

Many envied the position I held. Many would try to kill me for it like they had done the one this position rightfully belonged to.

I was only a surrogate, who from now on would have to carry the title and pass this burden onto the generations to come. The generations of Vitales.

“There’s a telly in the main room, Capo,” one of the soldiers said.

I had to blink twice at the man who had stepped forward to make sure he was looking at me and not my uncle, who was standing in one corner of the stage. I had uttered the word Capo many times but had never been called it. The feeling was strange, yet the sense of power thrilled me.

We moved to the main room, all impatient about the disk, but none more than me. The soldier quickly plugged it in, and handed me the remote. I turned it on.

The first thing to appear on the screen was a naked woman. Not just any woman. My little sister Amara. Except, the people around me didn’t know that. For good reasons. For them, this was just another whore.

She lay sprawled out on a canopy bed with blood-red sheets and drapes, her hands handcuffed to the headrest and legs parted with a splitter.

A thousand knives pierced my organs, shame prickling through my skin and heat marring my temples. All remnants of my emotions shattered into pieces. I wanted to look away, wanted to gouge everyone’s eyes out. Yet I couldn’t move. The shock overwhelmed me.

A man walked toward the bed, his back turned to the screen. I didn’t need to see his face to know who he was. His dark hair, tall frame and charred skin on his left shoulder blade gave it out.

Guilt rampaged inside me like a storm. My hands and feet seared with the anger bridling in my chest.

“If you go through with the initiation, there will be consequences, Vitale,” he had said to me through a note. Through a fucking note.

He wanted nothing more than to hurt me, kill me, even. But using a woman, whose love for him was pure and innocent, was beyond cruel.

I doubted Amara had any idea about how he had turned her into an essential pawn in the game, as he had done with every damn person in his life, even his own blood. I had no weaknesses—none that I had been aware of until now. He knew the truth. He knew he could break me through her.

He climbed onto the bed, dipped his head between her legs, and kissed her inner thighs.

I hurtled toward the television, my rage out of bounds. The monster the world knew me as lurched out to the surface. With all my strength, I pushed it off the stand. The DVD player was next. I picked it up and tossed it to the ground, breaking it into parts.

Everyone stepped back in horror. I seldom reacted out of anger, given my role in this family, where hundreds of eyes watched me for my last name. But whenever I did, the ruins were beyond repair.

He fucking won because I was too blind to his loyalty. He had started the war and trapped my sister in it as a weapon to his advantage, and he would have to pay heavily for it. I would butcher him, forgetting every moment of friendship we’d had.

“No one says a word about this to anyone,” I yelled, my voice booming in the room—my first order as the capo. “None of you saw this. Understood?”

***

Present

“There you are,” Dom said as I ambled down the stairs, fastening the cufflinks of my white shirt.

I wanted the morning to be silent after parading through the clubhouses last night. Well, peace for me was like a cold day in hell with Domenico Guerra as the herald of chaos.

Dom’s hair was ruffled. There was blood smeared on the hems of his sleeves, which was odd, considering how posh he was, always in his upmarket clothes and expensive boots and watches. He kept his image in check because of his position as my advisor, the consigliere of the Vitale Empire, which was the second-most important position in Cosa Nostra.

“Got into another fight?” I asked.

He followed my gaze to his sleeves and shook his head. “A fucking torture romp. My morning started with two street racers crawling up my ass near the Arena. Plus, I didn’t get any sleep, so you can imagine my annoyance.” He strode toward the sink near the sidebar in the living room. “Turns out they weren’t just any racers.” I arched a brow. “Yakuza.”

“Those Japanese motherfuckers,” I gritted, reaching the glass table centring the living room.

“Their oyabun has been very persistent about finding the best routes to continue the annual race and please his protégés.”

“What the fuck are they trying to do, anyway? They’re tight on men here in America. And instead of keeping their noses in Japan, they’re trying to mess with the Italian-American Mafia?” I snarled.

“Anyway,” he stood before me, “I wouldn’t be too focused on them. We’ve got bigger problems.”

Bigger problems. The Mafia had been in shambles for the past ten years, with no hope for a better future. That had been the biggest problem for years.

The war between Chicago Outfit and the Camorra of Nevada was like a never-ending cycle. Then there was the conflict between the only two ruling families of the New York Cosa Nostra. The Illiano Crime Family wanted more power and demanded we divided New York equally, which we, the Vitales, would never agree to.

My focus, for now, was the inner strife within my domain, which was cancer to the union. Things were tough because of the audacity of men who thought they could overrule me. It was time this fucking nuisance stopped.

I walked to the main door, with Dom following behind. The soldiers guarding the mansion dipped their heads into a bow as we made our way down the portico stairs and toward our car.

“What else?” I got into the driver’s seat, and Dom settled into the passenger beside me.

Dom cleared his throat. “Rats, as usual.”

“This isn’t news. Infiltrating my empire with pitiful soldiers won’t do any good,” I told him. “Besides, I’m an excellent throttler. Should we get our hands on any of those fuckers, we shall do our best to let them join their dead in the most modest way possible.”

“Torture and pleasure mix all too well when the screams are louder,” he mused with a wicked grin. I stepped on the accelerator and pulled out of the driveway. “Back to the news. Julian caught a rat last night after the whole restaurant fiasco. This bastard has been involved in a lot of shit under his underboss’s nose,” Dom accused.

“Under mine, you mean?”

“This is fucked up,” Dom murmured. “There’s a club registered under our name that’s doing illegal trafficking.”

“Everything we do is illegal in its entirety, Dom,” I said. “Be more specific. What’s he been stealing from me? Arms? Drugs? How much?”

Dom tensed in his seat. It was a rare sight to see him bothered because of a fucking wimp. “Women. That’s what he trades.”

I stepped on the brake, putting my car to a screeching halt. The car behind me stopped as well. The driver yelled and screamed obscenities at us, something he shouldn’t have done. Especially not now.

Mafiosos weren’t saints. We did jobs far worse than trafficking. We had whorehouses, brothels and clubs where both men and women partook, but only after signing a consensual agreement as per the rules of the Commission. Human trafficking meant the lack of consent and display of false power and was completely against the morals of the Italian-American Mafia.

“We have to deal with this before the Commission finds out,” Dom warned.

If they hadn’t already found out. The Illianos wouldn’t waste a single breath before using it against us in front of the entire commission. None of the parties in the Commission would waste their one chance of calling me incompetent.

I exhaled and got out of the car. One look at my face and the driver knew he was screwed. He rushed out of his car, his eyes wide with horror, and apologised. I would’ve beaten him up if I hadn’t noticed the baby in the backseat of his car, sucking on a pacifier with big eyes, unaware of what the father had stepped into.

I clenched my teeth and returned to my car. Ruining my morning more was the last thing I wanted, anyway.

Dom’s eyes rounded as I got in. “Either you’re furious or ecstatic. I can wager it’s not the latter.”

“It’s tiring to waste my breath when I have more important shit to deal with,” I said. “Get to this club and see how far this ship has fucking sailed. And don’t kill that rat unless we have some valuable intel from him.”