Vegas was nine days ago. I won the Qatar Grand Prix two days ago.
In that time, Bonafacio, on learning his grandson had received a one-race ban for causing an accident and that Stan Paul was out of commission for the rest of the season, had lost his mind. His soldiers had attempted to burn down one of our casinos, targeted three of our trucks and two strip clubs. We’dlost two runners and a lieutenant, and a few hostesses had been roughed up.
He’d stopped for all of two days when we snuffed out two of his lieutenants and sent one minus his left hand with a clear warning.
Stop. Or else.
El Topo’s response? He would quit his shenanigans if I called off the wedding and Maddelena returned home.
Asfuckingif.
The proverbial straw was Sofiya’s call to Maddelena last night. Their sister Jacinta had been yanked back home. And El Topo was laying vicious hands on the women in his household. My woman was going out of her mind, starting to toy with falling in line, attempting to placate El Topo.
He’d zeroed in on her one weakness – her siblings.
Sheets of ice fought with white-hot rage. The next words out of my mouth would either doom me in my family’s hearts or end the life of my future wife’s grandfather. There was no hiding from either.
‘Cesare.’ Orazio rarely used my name. When he did, he meant business.
I looked up. Three sets of eyes watched me. My father, brother and grandfather.
Orazio wanted my compliance but didn’t need my permission. This was happening with or without my consent.
A part of me was relieved. The other part braced for Maddelena’s heartache. No matter the fallout, I knew she’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. But here we were.
I sucked in a breath. Released it. ‘Sì.’
Orazio slammed his palm on the table to seal the mandate. ‘It is done.’
The date chosen was the day after our wedding day.
Bonafacio Mancinelli wouldn’t die at my hand because it turned out there were some lines my grandfather wouldn’t cross, one of them being having El Topo’s blood on my hands.
The burden of confessing the impending deed to Maddelena, however, he had no problem tossing on my shoulders.
30
CESARE
She knew something was up.
If nothing else, my bundling her into the chopper and flying her to Fallbrook straight after the arson attack on the casino clued her in.
Keeping her distracted with wedding planning and away from Orazio and Giacomo for the time being had become a full-time job.
But I was thrilled she fell in love with Fallbrook at first sight. She might be spending more time here than she’d anticipated if this thing with Bonafacio went sideways.
She’d been doing her best to hide her unhappiness at not being able to see her sisters. Narciso she’d called from my hospital room, and it’d been glorious listening to her ripping him a new one for the dangerous stunt he’d pulled.
Hell, I got hard watching her pace, worried, angry and raining down hell on my behalf. She would make a great mama bear when the time came. I couldn’t fucking wait.
Last night, I treated her to extra special fucking, not stopping until she was blissed out with a smile on her face.
Today I had another surprise in mind. It’d taken careful logistics orchestrating, which Rafa, Bibi and Fist excelled at, and the promise of blowing up shit, which the twins, the uncles and a bunch of trusted senior lieutenants were all too eager to helm.
When my five-minute heads-up text arrived, I went looking for her, navigating a sea of event-planner minions bearing giant vases of flowers that had some sentimental connection to the Old Country for Orazio. Another group were setting up extra lighting along a strip of red carpet that would form the receiving line in the foyer. After a five-minute search I gave up and wandered into the kitchen.
‘Where’s my wife?’ I asked the busy room at large.
