Javier ~
"Fuck this traffic, man," Ivan muttered, already losing his patience. We had flown in from Miami to Vegas for the marriage deal. This union wasn't about love—it was about power and money.
The marriage was a calculated move. In exchange for consolidating our influence, we were getting access to the drug routes the Famiglia had blocked for the past eight years, halting our ability to expand our territory. In return, we had cut off their supply lines, making sure if we couldn't profit from them, no one else could either. After years of conflict, this was the closest we'd come to a truce.
This marriage was just a symbol of our union. Honestly, I was as thrilled about it as a cat is about a bath. I knew I had to marry eventually, especially since I would be stepping into the role of Capo soon. But for me, this wasn't about love—it was a business deal. Love was a foreign concept to me. I rarely liked people, so the idea of love seemed distant. The only love I understood was the bond between me and my brother, Ivan. Even though he drove me crazy half the time, I still cared for that bastard.
Neither of us had any meaningful relationship with our parents. In my early years, it was the caretakers who raised me, and eventually, I took control of my own life. I was the one who raised Ivan, shaping him into who he is today. The girl I'm supposed to marry is the same age as my brother. When the news of the marriage first came, I thought they were talking about Ivan. But, to my dismay, it was me. She's four years younger than I am.
"Couldn't you be a little patient for once? This isn't Miami, it's Vegas. Things don't work the way you want them to here," Victor shot back at my brother. He was the son of our head captain and one of the Cartels' top soldiers. A year older than me, Victor, like Ivan, thrived on the thrill of things rather than logic. He'd been like a brother to both of us, our bond formed since childhood. We were heading to the Torrini mansion, which was a long drive from the airport. Victor was behind the wheel, I sat in the passenger seat, and Ivan lounged in the back.
Father was in the car ahead with our consigliere, Yadiel. He had wanted me to sit with them, but I couldn't leave these two idiots alone in enemy territory. You never knew what they might come up with, and trusting them not to do something reckless was like trusting a shark to skip a meal—dangerously naive and bound to end badly. So, I couldn't take that risk. Finally, the traffic cleared, and Victor sped the car toward the mansion. I was sure Enrico had called my father a hundred times by now.
After ten minutes, we were far from the hustle of the main city, driving through a more serene, scheduled part with fewer people. The massive mansion finally came into view, its lights illuminating the lawn and the building itself. Father's car was already ahead of us. As we approached the gates, they opened, allowing us to enter the property. Several cars were already parked outside, a clear sign that the Famiglia members had arrived. In the center of the lawn stood a grand fountain, with two statues on either side, each pouring water from the large pots they held.
"Damn, its literally just a deal. What are these guys celebrating? Christmas?" Ivan grumbled again, his tone dripping with boredom. "I hope you don't speak up your mind once you are inside, we don't want another war," I shot back, my patiencewearing thin from his constant bickering. The guy always wanted things to work according to him. We all got out of our cars, I saw father and Yadiel walking towards us with a stoic expression. "You two better don't create any mess here or I'll be the first one to put a bullet in your head," father warned Victor and Ivan in a low tone. Victor nodded obediently and Ivan smirked in his annoying way that riled people up.
Father shot Ivan a sharp glare, but before he could speak further, Yadiel stepped in, preventing any unnecessary drama. "I think we should head inside. We're already quite late," he suggested. Father glanced at him, considering the advice, before turning and walking away. We all followed his lead. The main door swung open moments later, revealing Enrico standing there, his wife Neomi by his side. "Took you longer than expected," Enrico grumbled, his tone far from welcoming. "Vegas traffic. Can't help it," Father shot back in the same gruff tone.
I shook hands with him which he squeezed a little too tightly than necessary, had this not been for the deal I would have broke his hand. Next I took his wife's hand and kissed it, God that woman could literally break in a snap of my finger, she felt so weak like she hadn't eaten for days. She had put on about a dozen layers of makeup, but it couldn't hide the gauntness of her body, the way her frame seemed to shrink beneath her clothes. And then of course behind them stood their bastard of a son Antonio. He looked at me with eyes colder than ice, his stare sharp and calculating. I could see the muscle twitch in his jaw, a clear sign of the hatred he had for me, but he didn't say a word. He didn't have to. The animosity radiated off him like a suffocating fog. And I couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before one of us finally snapped. We firmly shook our hands and they invited us in.
The house was a masterpiece of glass and golden lights, and the event was being held in the ballroom. There weren't many people, just the important ones I vaguely recognized. And so, the evening began. I shook hands with several members of the Famiglia, engaging in small talk with each of them. "This is definitely the most boring party of my entire life," Ivan muttered under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. He wasn't wrong; even I was starting to feel the weight of the endless polite conversation. "I'm going to grab a drink before I have to endure another round of small talk," I told him, then made my way toward the bar.
As soon as I made my way to the bar, I saw Antonio already sitting on one of the stools. His presence was always hard to ignore, even though he wasn't saying anything. I chose a stool away from his, keeping a safe distance, though I knew it didn't matter much—Antonio wasn't one for casual conversation. He'd probably be content just brooding in silence. I wasn't here to talk anyway, so I ordered a glass of bourbon on the rocks, hoping the burn would settle the tension in my chest.
Antonio noticed me. His eyes flickered in my direction, but that was it. No greeting, no acknowledgment beyond the brief glance. That was the thing about him—always so cold, so controlled, like nothing ever got to him. But I knew better. He wasn't as invincible as he seemed.
I leaned back, swirling the ice in my glass and taking a long gulp, feeling the alcohol burn as it slid down my throat. I could feel the weight of tonight pressing on me, and it wasn't just the usual business; it was the fact that the Famiglia was handing their daughter over to the Cartels tonight. A deal sealed with blood, power, and a complete disregard for anything resembling love.
I couldn't blame them. This was business. This was how the world worked—how it always had. But there was something unsettling about it, something that gnawed at me every time I remembered why we were really here.
The men in the room were all Mafia. They were here for the same reason as me—to witness the exchange, to secure their own territories, to make sure no one got ahead. And behind all the cold smiles and fake pleasantries, there was always the underlying hunger. A hunger for power. A hunger for control. The kind that made the world like this—where daughters were used as pawns and loyalty was bought with promises of riches.
I glanced over at Antonio again, who hadn't moved an inch. His sharp jawline, the way his dark suit clung to his frame—it all screamed power. He wasn't just here for business; he was here because this was his world too. He understood the game, perhaps better than anyone else in the room. And yet, I couldn't shake the feeling that even he had a part of him that was... different. Maybe that was the danger of men like us—always too controlled on the surface, but beneath that, who knew what we were really capable of.
The glass in my hand felt heavier now, the weight of everything sinking in. My future was already decided for me. This marriage, this alliance—my marriage—was part of a deal, nothing more. I sat there for a while, gulping my drink and something suddenly striked my mind.
It was Antonio's agreement. How the hell did he even agree to marry his sister off to the enemy? One thing I knew about him was that he was a cunning asshole. He never did anything without an agenda, so there had to be something more to this deal than what met the eye. What was he really after? What game was he playing?
I couldn't afford to dwell on it now. I finished my drink and stood up, my mind racing. The party wasn't the place for these thoughts. I had to focus on what was in front of me, not the threads of deceit that might unravel beneath it all.
As I walked back toward the crowd, hoping to clear my mind, I saw my father talking to Basilio, deep in conversation. But before I could reach them, the door to the ballroom swung open, and silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket.
Enrico entered, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. And with him... his daughter. Giorgia.
The moment I saw her, I realized how fucking wrong I was for saying that she was just pretty. No, she was mesmerizing. Every detail of her looked even more stunning in real life. Porcelain skin that seemed to glow under the ballroom lights, lush pink lips that looked like they were meant to be kissed, and strands of black hair falling delicately over her face, framing it like a perfect painting.
"Looks like someone hit the jackpot," Victor murmured beside me, and I couldn't help but agree. It was clear that this marriage deal wasn't just about power—it was about her. She was more than just a pawn in this game; she was the jewel everyone was after.
They headed toward us, and the room seemed to hold its breath. "This is my daughter, Giorgia," Enrico introduced her to us, his chest puffed out with pride.
"You are really pretty, young lady," my father said, his voice smooth and polished as always.
"Thank you," she responded, her voice laced with honey and sugar, as if each word was carefully crafted to leave an impression. Damn, her voice was everything.
"And this is your soon-to-be husband, Javier," my father continued, motioning toward me.
She finally looked at me. I could see the effort it took for her not to. But her eyes met mine, and for a split second, everything else around us seemed to fade. There was no smile, no warmth, just an intensity that told me this was going to be far from simple.
Blue. Her eyes were the most striking shade of blue I had ever seen, big and filled with innocence and... fear. It didn't take long for me to recognize it—I'd seen that same fear in the eyes of many before. The kind of fear that made them fragile, vulnerable. What I wondered was how long that innocence would last before I ripped it away. How long would it take before the world turned her into something she couldn't even recognize?
I took her hand in mine, and it felt as delicate as a flower, fragile, like it could break under the slightest pressure. I kissed it, tasting the sweet bitterness of her beauty, knowing she was beautifully breakable.
Before I could think much more about it, Antonio appeared beside her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a possessive gesture. Anger flared through me, hotter than I'd anticipated. Even though he was her brother, I didn't like him touching her, didn't like the way he claimed her as if she were some prize.
It wasn't just Antonio. It was the way my father had complimented her, the way his eyes lingered a little too long on her, the way he saw her as something to be owned, something to be used. It was sickening, and I could feel my patience thinning with every passing second. No one was going to touch her the way I knew they wanted to. Not unless they were willing to pay the price.
No man was allowed to touch her except for me. It didn't matter if he was family or not. "I think you two should have a talk," father said and I saw Antonio straightening beside Giorgia, I actually liked it that this pissed him off. I extended my hand in front of Giorgia and after a moment of hesitation she accepted it. As soon as she got close to me, the scent of lilies wafted in my nose, I felt like burying my self in her. We walked out the ballroom, in a small living area beside it. Her dress was doing an amazing job to show her curves, her ass looked so fucking amazing. As I was taller than her I got a good view of her delicious breast valley, and my cock twitched in excitement.
I couldn't wait to devour her. She was just perfect in every fucking way. It was the first time I had seen her in real and she was already making me go crazy. I wanted her, every little part of her even if it was the dirtiest one I wanted it. I knew there was no stopping for me and no saving for her.