LORENZO (37YRS)
I studied the two girls standing to my left. They were both trying not to smile. Since I entered the hotel conference room we’d chosen as a mutual meeting ground, they’d been casting furtive glances in my direction. A couple of feet away stood another younger girl with her mother. She was sixteen and D’Angelo’s youngest daughter while the other two were eighteen and twenty. I stared at the man sitting in front of me on the opposite side of the table. In a white suit and decorated like a gold buffoon, I gave up trying to figure out how many ounces of the precious metal the man carried on his obese body. Or, how in God’s name was he blessed with not one but five daughters. I almost grinned at the knowledge that they were fortunate they carried their mother’s beauty and looks.
Next to me, Remo nudged my arm then whispered, “have you decided which one you want?”
I scowled at him, warning him to quit being an asshole about me agreeing to Mother’s wishes to marry a D’Angelo just to keep the peace. We’d done away with the pleasantries ten minutes ago and now waited the discussion of the contract.
“It’s a simple agreement, Lorenzo,” D’Angelo waved at his two daughters to come closer. “You choose which of my lovely daughters you want, marry them and give me an heir.” He slid the written contract across the table toward me.
Mother held out a gold pen. “You’re doing the right thing,” she attempted to smile then quit, knowing I saw right through her façade.
“And you’ll remain in Italy, of course,” the older man said as I reached for the pen.
My fingers stopped mid-air and I felt Remo stiffen next to me. I looked at D’Angelo. “Not happening,” my response belied my inner rage to grab the pen and stick it in the man’s throat.
“What is not happening?” He frowned.
Straightening, I rested my linked fingers on the table and stared him in the eye, so he knew I wasn’t about to fuck around. “I agreed to this farce of a marriage only because you have my sister. I will marry your daughter, give you an heir and that’s as far as my agreement goes. Once we’re married, I will return to New York.”
The old man’s face grew darker with each word I uttered. His gaze shifted to my mother. “Che assurdità è questa,Sophia?” he asked, calling my decision nonsense. “I thought we agreed he will stay in Italy.”
“Make no mistake, D’Angelo, I am my mother’s son, but I am thirty-seven not eighteen. I abide by my own rules. Whatever agreement you have with her stays in place with a few minor adjustments,” I answered instead, my voice just as hard. “Push this agenda and you’ll force my hand. Trust me when I say this. Luca’s death was just the tip of the iceberg.”
“You dare to threaten me?” he roared, his stomach wobbling with the effort to stand.
I shot to my feet, Remo following just as quickly, his hand on his gun. Behind me the shuffle of quick feet told me I didn’t have to turn around to know Dario had taken care of D’Angelo’s men. I wasn’t interested in whose side Mothers soldiers would take, they knew me well enough not to interfere with my men or Remo.
“What is the meaning of this, Lorenzo,” Mother’s stern voice followed with her standing and gripping my arm.
I glared at her. “You agreed to this shitshow, so deal with it.”
It’d been a long time since I’d seen a crack in my mother’s stoic demeanor, something you’d only pick up if you knew the person she once was. Leveling me with a scowl that I knew would have repercussions later, not that I cared, she took her seat again.
I looked at D’Angelo. “You don’t have a son to take over the running of your businesses, so don’t cut off your nose to spite your face. Iwillmarry your daughter and Iwillreturn to New York.” Given I’d killed his only son, he wanted an heir of royal mafia blood hence the D’Angelo and Rossi mating. “You want help with your businesses, I’ll do it from there. If you don’t know me, then know one thing, I am a man of my word.” He seemed to breathe easier then and slowly lowered his large body back into the chair. “However.” I remained standing and caught Remo’s snigger under his breath. I smirked. He knew I was about to drop a larger bomb. D’Angelo stared at me, waiting. “I will marry her.” I pointed to his youngest daughter and gasps mixed with Italian curses flew around the room.
With his forearms resting on his thighs, Remo leaned over to hide his laughter. He hated my mother’s rule just as much as I did and me going against her wishes, probably had his belly rolling.
“She’s just a child,” D’Angelo bellowed not bothering to stand. I gathered the effort tired him.
It didn’t, however, stop my mother from flying to her feet. “Lorenzo, this is ridiculous.”
“You’re right, Mother, this whole contract is ridiculous but if you insist on fulfilling it, I will do it my way.” I turned to look at D’Angelo. “She will become my wife now and in two years when she is eighteen, she will bear my child. You will have your heir then.”
A lot could change in two years, and I didn’t give a fuck if it did. I glanced at his wife, who somehow didn’t seem as flustered as I would’ve expected. Perhaps she was the intelligent of the two parents and could see this going south quickly or there was some underlying reason. From where I stood, she seemed pleased and was consoling the other two daughters who weren’t happy with my decision.
“What will it be, D’Angelo?” I asked when the room had quietened to just a murmur.
He studied me for a moment then gestured for his youngest daughter to step forward. “I agree.”
“Before I sign, I’d like a word with her. Alone.”
I could hear the distinct gasps of surprise from all three daughters. Custom was none of the daughters in a mafioso household could entertain a man, even if he were her fiancé, without a family member present. I took my seat again and waited while the old man discussed my request with his family.
“Fuck, Renz, I knew you had a plan, I didn’t expect you’d want to break our mother’s heart,” Remo leaned in and scoffed in my ear.
My lips curled in a hint of a smile, but I didn’t reply. My silence said it all. I hated my mother and I’d do anything to go against her wishes. If she hadn’t learned I wasn’t one of her pet toys she entertained in her bedroom, she’d learn soon enough. I didn’t kiss feet, even if they belonged to royalty.
“Five minutes.” D’Angelo drew my attention.
