5
Dimitri
My driver pulled up to the curb outside the light pink stucco church. I rocked forward against the shoulder belt in the backseat. The contents of my stomach did a few somersaults at the same moment. For what felt like the hundredth time since I’d woken up, I plotted to kill my friend Ivan for ordering that second bottle of vodka.
Sure, after a few more shots from it, my troubles had vanished. But they’d all reappeared, bringing friends along when I’d opened my eyes to the harsh morning sun. My bride-to-be already held a poor opinion of me. Losing my lunch on her dress would be a hell of a way to start our marriage.
When the acrobatics routine in my stomach went into intermission, I pushed open the door and stepped out. The afternoon heat and humidity rushed to greet me. If I stayed out in it too long wearing my tuxedo, I’d be pouring sweat, so I blinked past my headache and headed towards the stairs to the door.
Opening the outer door, a cool air-conditioned breeze brushed away the overwhelming heat. After it closed behind me, I didn’t move, savoring the cold air. Maybe it was my Russian stock, but I didn’t think I’d have survived the heat of Miami if not for air conditioning.
As I waited, putting off moving through the inner doors and the moment the don’s carefully laid out plan truly became inevitable, the hinges on one of those doors screeched.
Mr. Rudolph, the Castello family’s attorney stood frozen in the doorway, like I’d caught him red-handed. He nodded and hurried inside, letting the door close behind him.
“Mr. Petrovich,” the gaunt man greeted me, bowing not just his head, but his shoulders, too, “may I be the first to congratulate you on your big day. I have some more papers for you to sign before the ceremony, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Last week, he’d offered me the briefest of nods when we’d first met. A week later and with me about to become his boss, it didn’t surprise me that his whole demeanor had changed. Men like Rudolph understood their positions and who signed their paychecks. Of course he toadied up to me now.
“By all means, I’m happy to look over the documents and sign them now,” I replied.
As I spoke, I glanced through the window in the inner door. As churches went, it was on the small side with only a dozen or so pews on either side of the central aisle. Besides the priest at the altar at the far end, not a single person occupied any of the pews.
“Miss Castello wanted an intimate ceremony,” the lawyer said, correctly anticipating my next question.
“There was no need to hire out an entire church then,” I grumbled, mostly to myself but the other man heard me, “I mean, I offered to do a quick justice of the peace ceremony at the courthouse. Hell, we could have forgotten about the whole thing and just signed the papers.”
“This was the church her parents got married in,” replied the lawyer. He shrugged and opened his briefcase. “Speaking of signing the papers, I have them right here.”
He slapped the marriage license on top of his briefcase and held it up in front of me, pen in his free hand. Olivia’s swooping handwriting already filled the first spouse signature line. Rudolph’s formal looking practiced signature occupied one of the witness boxes. The name Enrico Pirrello took up the other one.
“Enrico Pirrello is the don’s, I mean was the don’s consigliere,” the lawyer piped up, not so hopefully this time.
“I know who he is,” I snapped and glanced into the church again. “I just don’t see him in the nonexistent crowd inside.”
“He’s going to be walking Olivia down the aisle,” Rudolph answered.
Nodding at that, I grabbed the pen and signed my name on the second spouse line. When I offered him his pen back, Rudolph shook his head. He slipped the marriage license back into his briefcase and pulled out a file folder.
“Just one more signature,” he said, opening the folder. “Now, if you want you can have your own attorney look this over before you sign…”
He left those last words hanging, watching for my reaction. The deference he showed earlier, bowing and toadying, made a lot more sense now. It wasn’t just because I was going to be the new boss. He worried I’d have my own lawyers; planned to replace him or worse.
“You don’t need to worry Mr. Rudolph,” I said, pulling the document from his file folder and skimming it. “I have no plans to replace you. The don held you in a lot of confidence. There will be enough turnover with me in the big chair. I don’t plan on changing the family’s attorney. You can breathe easy.”
He didn’t need to know that I wasn’t exactly enthused with my current representation. Outside the Bratva, I’d lost access to our family’s attorney. With my current operations, I’d had to find alternatives. None had the skill of Mr. Rudolph.
“That’s good to hear, sir,” he replied, shoulders relaxing. “There’s nothing hiding in that document. It’s basically a prenup. Mr. Castello wanted to ensure that you don’t… set his daughter aside. If you do, your position within the family will be at an end.”
“And if Olivia, how did you put it? Set me aside?” I asked, still flipping through the document, searching for the clause that specified just that.
“While Florida is a no-fault divorce state, unless she could prove abandonment or cruelty on your part, she’d lose her stake in the organization, just as you would in the event of a divorce,” he answered and leaned over the document, tapping on the clause in question.
“Very good.” I nodded and flipped to the next page, skimming it. “The Don didn’t hire substandard people. I expect any contracts he had you draw up to be airtight just as I expect them to continue to be now that I’m in charge.”
“Of course, sir.” He nodded and a slight smile came to his lips. “I assume the Don told you about his expectation of children? There is a clause here that requires a pregnancy, or at least the attempt at one, within the first year.”
“I’m well aware that my position is that of a caretaker, the regent for my son with Olivia when he is able to take over the family,” I replied.
