Blackmailed to the Altar (Caputo Crime Family #2)

23. Chapter Twenty-Three

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

R iccardo

I stared out the window of my office, the morning sun casting a harsh light on the city below. I didn’t give a damn about the view; my mind was fixed on one thing: Mya. My firecracker. The woman who occupied my every thought, whose defiance and fire only made me want to consume her more. I was done waiting, done with her constant hesitation, and her weak excuses. She was mine, and it was time the world knew it. Of all the things for my counterpart to forget. Maybe I’d been intervening too often. He had been foggy every time I allowed his consciousness back in control.

I whipped out my phone and contacted our family priest. It was too short of notice to get the Vatican, but he could marry us in a larger ceremony. “Marcello, why aren’t you at the family villa with the marriage license yet?”

“Hello to you too, cousin,” Marcello greeted. “These things take time. Who’s the lucky lady?”

Everyone was related to the Brotherhood, but Marcello was family through and through. “Fuck the time, get it done as soon as possible, and her name is Dr. Mya Rivers,” I crooned. I couldn’t wait for her to be my wife.

“Wait, isn’t that the shrink Silas wanted to hire?”

I frowned at the phone. “How did you even know about that?”

Marcello growled, “I know everything.”

He wasn’t wrong. Even though he was the family’s priest, he knew far more information than he should. I didn’t know what his sources were, but he’d helped me in many dicey situations, and, for that, I was happy.

“I’ll owe you a favor.”

He chuckled, though there was an edge to it. The kind of edge that said he knew what I was, and what I did, but he’d never judge me for it, not to my face anyway. He’d long since accepted that the Caputo family paid his bills, kept his church afloat, and ensured his safety. His moral compass was only as steady as the bribes we lined his pockets with.

“Say less. I’ll be there in fifteen.” I hung up with Marcello.

It was time to claim my bride. I called several different stores, and found everything my little firecracker needed at those stores. Designer shoes, a decent hair stylist, and a makeup guru, were all in place to get her ready for the next step in her life with me.

I eagerly contacted my tailor, paying extra for him to meet me at the villa. Not that he wouldn’t from my status alone, but I wanted to make sure he knew I appreciated his sacrifice.

I grabbed my jacket, shrugging it on as I strode out of the office. My men scattered at the sight of me, knowing better than to stand in my way when I was in a mood like this. They’d seen the look in my eyes; the glint of possessive madness that had only grown stronger since Mya came into my life.

“Sir.” Vito, my underboss, stormed up to me, the only man willing to approach me right now.

“What is it?” I noticed he was shaking.

“The doctor called.”

It was like a bomb went off in the back of my head. I didn’t care for Amelia, but if she were dead from the long term coma she was in, I wasn’t sure what kind of feelings I would have.

“Come with me.” I motioned him to follow me, and we went into an empty office in the opposite wing of Mya.

Once the door was closed behind him, I waited for the full update.

“She’s circling the drain, was the latest report.” Vito ripped the bandaid off.

I sank into the closest chair, my entire body going haywire. I knew she’d been hooked up to machines for too long, but her overbearing family refused to let me make decisions for her.

Now, she wasn’t doing well. What was I supposed to do with this information? I waited for grief to take over me, but I felt nothing. Maybe it was because she wasn’t dead yet. I might feel it later.

Once I felt like myself again, I stood up, slowly releasing the feelings that had overcome me. I placed them in a tight container in the back of my mind. When she died, I would have to deal with the full Albanian force. They blamed me for her getting injured in the house fire, however, the entire incident was due to Amelia’s bad choices.

I grew up fast as fuck, after losing everyone in one fell swoop, right on the cusp of shipping my baby brother to a country he didn’t know a soul from.

Gathering my strength, I ordered Vito. “Make sure no one else finds out about this. Keep an eye on the situation, and give me the updates as soon as possible.”

Vito nodded gravely and set off to take care of my task. I wouldn’t have anything overshadowing my wedding day, but I did think I needed to prepare for war. The Albanians would either send a hitman after me, or they would come here themselves, and try to kill me. It would be a hard fight, but it would be best if I were prepared for it.

I headed out of that wing just as security notified me that my tailor was waiting downstairs in the foyer.

I had one of the servants show him to my room, and I headed there to get fitted for my tux. When that went off without a hitch, I got dressed and went back to business.

My bride would take a little longer to get ready.

Father Marcello arrived, wearing his holy robes, and I greeted him at the door. We shook hands, and I grinned.

“Everything in order?” I had to look up at Marcello; he was a huge man.

“As it’s going to be. What about the bride?”

I chuckled as we walked outside, around the property to the vineyard. In the clearing before it, my people were working fast to set up an outdoor, woodsy, mystical wedding experience.

Or at least that was what the wedding planner said, when I spoke to her on the phone. She was barking orders, and sending people in ten different directions. I stayed out of her way with Marcello.

We both leaned against a tree, watching the hustle and bustle of the wedding being prepared, while sharing a whisky flask between us.

“Why are you really marrying her?” Father Marcello blurted, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

“She’s different.” I entertained his question.

“So, love then?”

I scoffed. “Love isn’t accurate enough of a description. Her genius set my blood aflame. I can’t stop thinking about her. Obsession would be more precise.”

Father Marcello spat out some of his drink as he laughed. “I wouldn’t understand the word myself. She’s just a slip of a thing.”

I growled, “Watch how you speak about my wife.”

He held up his hands in front of him, a little off balance because he had the flask in one. He took a swig. “I meant no offense. I was just asking what makes her so special.”

I congratulated myself on my restraint. “She’s the light in the darkness, and when something is so bright, you want to hold on tight to it. No matter the cost.”

I could see he still didn’t understand me. but that was his loss. Maybe one day he would lock eyes with the woman that would knock him off his feet. I looked at his six-foot-four frame. When he fell, the Earth was going to move for sure.

Vito came out and stood on the sidelines. When I locked eyes on him, and he nodded, I knew it was taken care of. The Albanians weren’t going to sneak up on me. Once I locked down my bride, I would tell the men to prepare for war.

Father Marcello and I straightened up, as the few guests I invited trickled in. This was a small affair. My bride-to-be came stomping down the aisle, pure hatred flashing in her eyes.

I knew she would remember our deal, but I’d hoped that she would let go and be happy with me today. I sighed, maybe it would be better if I allowed her the softness of Sebastian.

I wanted her to look back on this day, and tell our children she was happy, if only a little. I closed my eyes and searched in the back of my mind. He slumbered, so I poked at him until he peeked an eye open, then I relinquished control back to him.

Fucking Sebastian.