Mafia's Vice

She’s late.

Our first meeting and she was already 5 minutes late. If this didn’t signify the Vincenzo family’s slack way of dealing with the problem at hand, then I don’t know what did. I pick up my glass of bourbon and my eyes scan the restaurant; high end and extravagant, as to be expected. Politicians wooing investors, wealthy married couples on dates hoping to maintain public appearances; yes this was the perfect place to do a deal with the devil.

When Aldo Vincenzo called me earlier in the week with suggestions of an accord, I must admit that I was surprised. New York and Chicago have long been at one another’s throats, but now we have a common enemy; The Russian Bratva was taking more and more of our territory, and we needed to bring an end to them.

“I am so sorry for being late, Dante. We certainly were not prepared for New York traffic!” The whirlwind that was Sienna Vincenzo says and snaps me out of my thoughts as she takes a spot opposite me. I look at her with interest.

It was said that the Vincenzo Principessa is beautiful, but her pictures definitely did not do her justice.

She was striking: her long brunette curls framed her heart-shaped face, beautiful light blue eyes stared at me apologetically and her full bottom lip presently caught in between her teeth. A black dress clung to her curvaceous frame that Italian women were recognized for.

“No matter. Next time, rather call if you’re going to be late, Sienna. It’s impolite to make someone wait, especially if that someone is me.” I responded with a coldness to my tone and saw her pale, but an arrogant grimace crossed her lips.

Oh, obedient but bratty; she definitely had my attention now.

“Again, I do apologize. I honestly did not mean to insult you,” she says, clearing her throat and hailing a server over. I watch her as she orders a glass of 1998 Masseto Toscana red wine with interest. She knew her wines; a woman after my black heart.

“Alright, we need to get straight to business. Your father sent you here for a purpose, did he not?” I inquire as I take a sip of my neat bourbon. She nods, “Terms for an agreement between my family and yours.” She says as she meets my gaze, not wavering.

Terms. Aldo was not particularly forthcoming with his only daughter.

“And why would your father send you instead of, say, his Consigliere?” I ask her, assuming she would put two and two together as I have. Her brows furrow at my query.

“He is hoping I would ease over any arrangement that is made this evening as we have a common enemy that needs to be thwarted. The only way that can be done is through a negotiated marriage between our families. He has sent me out to do deals before, so I am not clueless at what needs to be done, Mr Dragonetti.” She answers confidently, and it makes me chuckle in amusement.

Ah, a spark. I like it.

I lean forward and thread my fingers together underneath my chin. Her flowery vanilla scent invaded my nose and assaulted my senses; a perfume I would clearly remember after tonight. “Very perceptive. Our marriage would need to be in the next six months after you turn 21.” I tell her and smirk as she almost chokes on her sip of red wine.

“Pardon me? Our marriage?” she asks with widened eyes, evidently confused at my statement.

Aldo Vincenzo sent his only daughter as a lamb to the slaughter, and she was none the wiser.

“Yes, Sienna, our marriage. The only way to drive out the Russians would be through an arranged marriage between you and me. Your father owns Chicago and has ties to the MCs on the coasts, I own New York and have ties to Las Vegas, including the Cartels. The Bratva would never survive if we had to merge as there would be no other families willing to come to an accord with them.” I explain to her as boredom laces my voice.

I watch as she takes all of this in and she purses her lips, clearly deep in thought and wondering what else those lips could do. Then she meets my eyes and I see that she has come to a resolution.

“Of course, I understand. We will get married in December and have all the infamous and bigger Mafia families join us. It will be known far and wide that the daughter of Aldo Vincenzo is betrothed to Dante Dragonetti, Capo de Capi of New York.” She says and takes the last sip of her wine, causing me to smile triumphantly. I get up from my seat and walk over to her, taking her hand in mine.

“When your father called me this week, he already offered you to me, Sienna. He sent you here to sweeten the deal and I must say that I am not disappointed; you will make a fine bride.” I say and kiss the back of her hand, seeing her face pale and shiver under my touch.

She nods at this and I turn around to leave, making sure I paid the bill. I might be a cold and heartless killer, but there’s a common courtesy when it comes to things like this, especially since she is now my betrothed.

As I walk out of the restaurant, I turn around to get a last glimpse of Sienna as she sits at the table, alone. She looked as if her world was crumbling down around her and wore a forlorn expression.

This made me smile; Sienna had no inclination of what she was in for as my bride.

It would be fun making Aldo’s only daughter bend to my will, especially after what he did to my first love; the woman I would have killed for, who I loved above all else.

Breaking Sienna would be his just reward.