CHAPTER TWO
Lorenzo's POV
The tension in the room was discernible as the six families of The Four gathered around the grand mahogany table in my mansion. The air was filled with the scent of expensive perfumes and cigars. The undying tension of power was present, making the room loudly silent. Andrew, a seasoned member of The Four broke the silence first.
"Lorenzo, we respect you and acknowledge everything you've done for us, but we need to trust you more," he said, his eyes looking directly into mine.
"Yes, Lorenzo," Moretti added. "We need you to get yourself another bride," he said, leaning forward.
The words hung in the air, heavy with implication. Getting a bride wasn't the issue; it was the reputation that preceded me. Who would willingly marry the most feared mafia lord, known for the dark rumor that he kills his brides on their wedding night?
"You already heard what happened to my brides on our wedding night; how could I possibly get married again?" I said calmly, my voice laced with frustration.
"That's a decision we have agreed on, Lorenzo. If after seven days you don't have a bride, we will be forced to vote against you," Christaino, who I thought was an ally, added. His tone betrayed emotions.
"You don't have the right to decide whether or not I get married," I said, anger flaring in me.
I have fought all my life to get to the position I am in. I'm the first Mafia lord to come from nothing, not even from a noble family, to lead The Four. The previous leaders all came from a powerful mafia family, but for me, I had to crawl my way up here. So how could they possibly dictate my life for me?
"We have already concluded, Lorenzo; we give you seven days to make your decision. You can't stand against five of us." Moretti added, his voice firm, leaving no room for argument.
He was right; no matter how strong I was, I couldn't fight against five powerful mafia lords. Even if I could, I didn't want to start a war within the group.
"Alright then, a bride it is," I said, forcing a smile. I stood up, signaling the end of the meeting.
As I walked away, the weight of anger fell on my shoulders.
The night air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling through the leaves as I stood on the rooftop, the city lights sprawling beneath me like a sea of stars. I took a slow sip of my wine, savoring the rich, dark flavor that lingered on my tongue. The weight of my thoughts pressed heavily on my mind.
Up here, the world feels both vast and intimate. It's a place where power and tranquility coexist, where one can survey their domain and contemplate the next move in the quiet of the night.
Going through the stress of another wedding was hard for me. I had just lost a bride a few weeks ago; how could I possibly get married again? I thought as I slowly sipped my wine.
Rumors are already everywhere; some call me Cannibal, others say I use my brides for shooting sprees, and some say I kill them to gain power.
For the first time in a long while, my whole being was filled with emotions I can't explain.
"Boss, we are ready to leave." A voice interrupted my thoughts. It was Marcus, my associate.
Without turning, I replied, "I need you to inform Damian to meet me immediately." My voice laced with authority. I gently took another sip from my glass.
"Okay, Boss," he said, his tone depicting respect as he hurriedly exited the rooftop.
I turned slowly, my gaze following his retreating figure. The moonlight cast sharp shadows across my face, highlighting the cold determination in my eyes. The night was far from over, and in this world, every move was a calculated risk. But that was the life I had chosen, and I would see it through to the end.
Soon, I heard a soft footstep behind me, the subtle shift in air as Damian approached.
"You sent for me, Boss," he said as he stood a few meters away from where I was.
"Yes, I did, Damian," I replied, slowly turning to face him.
"Any news on my bride's death?" I asked as he took a few steps closer to where he stood.
"No Boss," he replied, "we lost the hitman this morning."
"What do you mean you lost him?" I asked, slamming my fist on the table, causing the glass of wine to ripple.
"You told me he was responding to treatment yesterday; what happened?" I asked furiously.
"He lost a lot of blood from the gunshot, and the doctors tried their hardest, but he couldn't make it out of the coma." He replied, nervous.
I took a slow, deliberate sip of wine. My eyes were burning with rage as I thought of my next move.
"This is the third time this is happening, Damian. The third fucking time, Damian. I need you to find the bastards behind this," my voice gentle but yet filled with rage.
"Okay, Boss," Damian nods.
Slowly I turned back to the view of the rooftop, the glass of wine still in my hands as I thought of what to do.
"The Four has asked for another bride," I said as Damian, who was already leaving, turned in shock.
"I don't know what will happen to my next bride, but if anything happens to her, I will make sure your entire generation is wiped out from the face of the earth." I threatened.
Damian has always been my most trusted confidant. He wasn't just my right-hand man; he was the keeper of my secrets, the guardian of my personal life, and the one who knew everything about me that others didn't. His loyalty was beyond question, and his knowledge of my affairs was unparalleled.
Threatening him felt like a betrayal of our bond, but the stakes were too high to ignore. I needed him to be on high alert on my wedding night. The memory of my last wedding night still lingered in my head, fresh, and I knew they would come for my next bride. The enemy was relentless, and this time, I couldn't afford any mistakes.
As I looked into Damian's eyes, I saw a flicker of understanding. He knew the gravity of the situation, and despite the harshness of my words, he remained steadfast. His dedication to protecting what mattered most to me was unwavering, and for that I was grateful. But I couldn't let my guard down, not even for a moment. The safety of my bride depended on it.
"Yes, boss," he said as he stormed out.
Now where do I get another bride? This question echoed in my head as I sat on the chair, looking at the view from the rooftop.