Bound (The Devil’s Vow #2)

4. Mafia Alpha Zone

Chapter four

Mafia Alpha Zone

Gianni’s brothers filled the dining room with an easy, infectious energy.

To Gianni’s annoyance, Fabio was still at it, singing “Staying Alive” under his breath, accompanied by Isabella’s enthusiastic bobbing.

Corrado continued to demolish plates of food as if he hadn’t eaten in days, and Stefan occasionally rolled his eyes at his brothers’ antics, though I noticed a flicker of amusement beneath his stern demeanor.

It was chaotic, loud, and strangely endearing.

I took a sip of wine, settling deeper into my seat.

Gianni sat beside me, leaning back with a rare smile on his face, the kind that made him look softer—almost more human and less devil, if that were possible.

Then, he glanced over at Stefan, and his expression shifted to something more thoughtful. “Why didn’t you bring Nico with you? He now has an aunt.”

I raised my eyebrows, wondering who Nico was.

Stefan froze for half a second, and his fork hovered over his plate. The brief pause was so slight I might have missed it if I wasn’t watching him closely.

Then, he set the fork down, exhaling through his nose. “Nico’s in school right now. But. . .next time, I’ll bring him to meet your new wife.”

Gianni turned to me and beamed. “Nico just turned four. He’s the sweetest kid you’ll ever meet.”

My heart warmed at the thought. “I can’t wait to meet him.”

Stefan’s jaw tightened as he stared down at his food, as if the conversation were starting to tread into uneasy waters.

For a moment, silence settled over the table.

Even Fabio stopped singing, sensing the change in the air.

"What?” Gianni furrowed his brow. “Is Nico okay?”

Stefan nodded. “He is.”

“Then, why are you looking like that?”

Stefan sighed. “I’m thinking about putting him in boarding school. Something expensive and nice—”

Outraged, Gianni shifted to Italian. “What the hell? Nico needs his family. Don’t send him away.”

“Hey, fuck face.” Fabio hit Stefan’s shoulder. “If you need help, then say something. Don’t send my nephew off with strangers.”

“Eh. Calm down.” Stefan dragged a hand through his dark hair. The streaks of grey at his temples caught the light. “He’s fine. A good kid, strong for his age. But. . .”

Corrado put down his fork. “What?”

Stefan gripped the edge of the table like it was the only thing anchoring him in place. “He’s all I have left of her , so. . .I don’t want to ruin him.”

Gianni tilted his head to the side. “Ruin him how?”

“I’m not home like I should be in the evening. And my head is never there when I’m around him—”

“Then, bring him over here.” Gianni gestured around the dining table. “When it becomes too much, I’ll keep him.”

“Nico needs stability, Gianni. Not long hours running through a castle and playing space warriors with his extravagant uncle.”

“Space warriors is educational.” Gianni sneered. “How about this. You send my nephew off to some stupid school far away and we have a problem.”

Stefan glared.

I touched Gianni’s arm.

The sneer left Gianni’s face.

I swallowed and gave Stefan a sad smile. “Did you. . .lose his mother?”

The room grew heavier with unspoken grief.

Stefan’s gaze softened as he looked down at his plate again, and the lines on his face seemed more pronounced. “Three years ago. . .she was killed. I was going to. . .propose to her that evening but. . .”

The sorrow in those words settled over me like a storm cloud. I could feel the pain radiating off him, sharp and undeniable, as if he carried it in his bones.

“And uh. . .I am no longer. . .the man I used to be.” There was no softness in the way Stefan spoke—just the raw truth of a man who had lost everything. “I’m barely a father. My son deserves better. An environment with laughter and joy, not constant darkness.”

Gianni sat up in his chair. “You’ve done right by Nico. Francesca would be proud of you.”

There was an achingly long pause before Stefan nodded, yet his eyes never strayed from the forgotten food on his plate and his hands still gripped the edge of the table. “Thank you, Gianni."

I could only watch in stunned silence.

These were men who wore their hearts like armor and wielded their emotions like weapons, and yet here they were, breaking down walls for a little boy I hadn’t even met.

I cleared my throat. “I can help in anyway. Do you already have a nanny? She and I could split the time, or I could help her.”

“I still haven’t gotten a nanny. The butler and chef help me out a lot. I just. . .would feel weird with another woman walking around my mansion, but. . .maybe it’s time to get a nanny.”

“I can help you with that—get you a list of perfect candidates and even do a first round of interviews before bringing them to you.”

Gianni smiled. “There we go. Just get Nico a good nanny.”

Stefan sighed. “That wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

“None at all. And it would take me weeks so that could give you some time to get used to the idea.”

Stefan finally lifted his gaze from his plate to meet my eyes. His strong facade cracked for a split second, just long enough for me to see the gratitude and relief before he put on his armor again. “Thank you.”

“I lost my mother at a very young age so. . .I know how important it is for a kid to have someone around that loves them.”

Stefan picked up his fork and slowly began eating.

I couldn’t imagine the weight of his specific grief, the loneliness he must have felt raising a child without the love of his life helping.

And yet, here he was—stoic, dependable, a fortress of a man.

But I saw the cracks, the places where the pain had seeped through.

“Until you have the new nanny, I would love to spend time with Nico,” I said gently, hoping to shift the heaviness just a little. “Maybe I can take him to do something fun—give you a break.”

I smiled softly, meeting Stefan’s gaze. “Kids need joy, right?”

Stefan gave me a long look, as if he were trying to decide whether or not to trust me with the most precious thing in his life. Then, finally, he nodded and the tension in his shoulders seemed to loosen just a fraction. “Nico would like that. He doesn’t have a lot of. . .people around him.”

“Great. I would like to be one of his people,” I said sincerely, and I meant it.

The idea of bringing even a little light into that boy’s life—into Stefan’s life—felt important in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

Stefan gave me the smallest of smiles—just a flicker, gone almost as soon as it appeared.

But it was there, and that was enough.

Meanwhile, Gianni watched me with this approving spark in his eyes.

Fabio leaned back in his chair and grinned. “Look at that, Stefan. Our new sister is already trying to fix your grumpy ass. My only question. . .will she succeed?”

I smirked.

“If she can, then she’s a miracle worker.” Corrado snorted and returned to shoveling food into his mouth.

Stefan rolled his eyes, but the sadness in them had eased, just a little.

Gianni squeezed my hand under the table and kept his voice low. “Thank you, Queen.”

“You’re welcome.” I squeezed back, grateful for the warmth of his touch.

The rest of the meal shifted to lighter chatter—laughter and jabs, old stories of Gianni as a kid.

Then, eventually, the conversation took an edgier turn, shifting from lighthearted to serious.

Basically, the topic moved to business, specifically the ruling of Obsidian Bay.

I listened quietly as they spoke of drug exports and imports, snitches, and territorial disputes.

Apparently, each brother had a specific role in Gianni's intricate web of control, acting as his extra eyes and enforcers, as well as managing different sectors of the city.

Stefan, the oldest, was responsible for overseeing the docks, where the bulk of their imports and exports flowed in and out of Obsidian Bay, ensuring nothing got in or out without the family’s knowledge.

Stefan spoke about drug shipments coming in from South America, how the packages were hidden in legitimate cargo to avoid suspicion. There was even mention of which local officials were on the payroll and how certain bribes kept the law at bay.

Fabio reigned over the nightclubs and underground gambling businesses.

These places served as both a front for their operations and a means of gathering information. It was through his network of informants—bartenders, bouncers, and dancers—that Fabio kept tabs on the pulse of the city's underworld.

During the meal, Fabio mentioned a snitch who’d been getting too comfortable in one of their clubs, and from the way he talked, it was clear that the person was no longer alive.

I felt like Fabio was Gianni's true ear to the streets, always aware of who was whispering too much, who was getting too close to the truth, and who might need to be silenced.

Apparently, snitches didn’t last long in Obsidian Bay, not with Fabio keeping such a tight grip on the nightlife.

And then there was Corrado, who handled their security and enforcement. His responsibility was to ensure the family's control over their territories remained undisputed .

Any territorial disputes, whether from rival families or ambitious upstarts, were dealt with swiftly under Corrado’s watchful eye.

From what I gathered quickly, territorial disputes were always simmering under the surface in Obsidian Bay, especially with new gangs trying to make a name for themselves.

Corrado mentioned that he was preparing to have a talk with one particularly aggressive group that had been making waves on the eastern side of the city.

I could hear the menace in his voice as he assured Gianni that the issue would be resolved—permanently.

And then right after that, Corrado reported that two days ago he broke a man’s spine and neck with just his hands and then left him on his family’s doorstep to deal with the corpse.

Due to that, I bet that Corrado’s reputation alone kept most people in line.

Still, it shocked the shit out of me. He was the youngest, but the most ruthless when discussing death.

In fact, I thought back to something Gianni had said when we were battling over my being in the ballet.

“I can’t be there to protect you during every rehearsal and performance. But my baby brother, Corrado can. He’ll talk to your director, Melanique, and lay out some parameters.”

Tension gathered in my shoulders.

I would have to warn Melanique to truly listen to Corrado because although he was much younger than her, he was not one to be trifled with.

In fact, none of the Fortunato brothers were anything to play with.

Together, they ensured Gianni’s empire thrived.

And Gianni. . .well he was a different man during these talks.

The more I watched Gianni in action, the more I started to understand a crucial part of him that I hadn’t fully grasped before.

It wasn’t just his power, his wealth, or even his influence that had gotten him to the top—it was the way he embodied that power.

The way he easily slipped into a role that I could only describe as his Mafia Alpha Zone .

In that moment, seated at the head of the table, surrounded by his brothers, Gianni wasn’t just my husband.

He was the boss.

And it was noticeable, even the energy in the room shifted when the conversation turned serious.

It started with his posture.

Earlier, Gianni had been lounging casually beside me with his arm draped over the back of my chair.

When the business talks began, he straightened. His spine went rigid, his broad shoulders squared.

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on the table, steepling his fingers in front of him in a commanding way.

His face shifted, too.

The playful smirk that had danced across his lips moments earlier disappeared, replaced by a look of quiet intensity.

His jaw tightened, and the muscles in his face hardened.

Those green eyes that had softened while he spoke to his brothers and me earlier, now sharpened and narrowed into focus.

He wasn’t just looking at his brothers—he was assessing them and their words.

And the effect on his brothers was immediate.

Stefan, Fabio, and Corrado, who had all been relaxed and easygoing during our banter, straightened in their seats as well.

Their playful demeanor vanished, and their attention became laser-focused on Gianni.

It was clear that when Gianni slipped into this mode, there was no room for jokes, no room for distractions.

Everyone in that space knew it, and everyone fell into line.

But it was his voice that truly transformed.

Gone was the warmth, the teasing tone he used when he spoke to us.

Instead, his voice became low.

Measured.

Every word carried heavy weight.

And he didn’t need to shout or raise his voice to make a point either. There was something about the control in his tone that made it more powerful.

He didn’t just speak—he commanded.

When he gave orders or discussed strategy, there was no hesitation.

No uncertainty.

His words were firm.

Deliberate.

Leaving no room for doubt.

And it was all fascinating to watch because I realized that this was the Gianni I hadn’t yet seen in full.

The Mafia Alpha Zone Gianni.

It was easy to forget, in our private moments, just how dangerous he really was.

But here, in this space, surrounded by his brothers and immersed in the business of ruling Obsidian Bay, there was no mistaking it.

Don Gianni Fortunato was an epic king.

And while I might have been his queen, it was in these moments that I truly understood the depths of his power.

Again, I didn’t want to be one of those mafia wives that didn’t know what was happening around them. So, I sat quietly, watching his brothers and him, absorbing every detail.

I was new to all of this for now, but in the future I would want to be the sort of wife that consoled and listened to him when he had a lot to get off of his shoulders.

And I wanted to be the sort of wife that advised too, just in case I felt that Don Fortunato was getting out of control and causing more harm to Obsidian Bay than good.

As the conversation continued, a beautiful Black woman entered the room.

Who’s this?

The woman’s entrance was as smooth as a breeze through an open window, yet somehow, her presence altered the entire dynamic of the space.

She was around five-six, but she carried herself with a clear confidence that was so quiet it was louder than any swagger.

Her dark brown skin gleamed under the soft light, radiant and smooth, like polished mahogany.

Her light brown hair was a crown of tight, springy curls forming a short, perfectly shaped afro that framed her face effortlessly.

The small, wire-framed glasses perched on her nose only heightened her air of intelligence and precision.

She wore a white blouse tucked neatly into black slacks, paired with low-heeled black shoes—simple, professional, no nonsense.

Yet, she wore that simplicity like armor, exuding competence and composure with every step.

Gianni barely glanced her way before returning to his conversation with Corrado.

But Fabio. . .well. . .Fabio went still.

It was as if someone had flipped a switch inside him.

The slouched playboy who had spent the meal serenading Isabella with “Staying Alive,” suddenly straightened.

His carefree demeanor vanished like smoke in the wind.

Fast, he sat up, adjusted his shirt collar, and ran a hand through his cropped hair as if trying to tame it.

His dark, inked neck shifted as he tilted his head, and his gaze locked on her like a wolf spotting prey.

And I was utterly shocked.

Because my first impression of him was that he was the sort of man that could probably charm the clothes off someone with a wink and a crooked grin.

However, his usual arrogance from earlier wavered, replaced by something more intent.

Like he wanted her attention.

Badly.

And it was clear from the tight set of her jaw that she couldn’t care less.

“Gentlemen.” Her voice was low and calm, the type that commanded respect without having to raise a single decibel. She gave a brief nod toward Gianni and his brothers. “I apologize for interrupting, but you wanted a report.”

Gianni gave her a curt nod. “Thank you, Makayla. I did.”

Without even glancing at the rest of us, Makayla pulled a slim leather-bound notebook from under her arm and flipped it open.

She tapped her pen against the paper, making notes with swift efficiency. Her focus was razor-sharp, as though the entire world had narrowed down to the items on her list.

Meanwhile, Fabio sat across the table, fidgeting like a schoolboy with a crush. His foot tapped against the leg of the table, and every now and then, his fingers drummed restlessly on his plate.

"How is everything looking on our end?" Gianni asked.

“All in order,” she said without missing a beat. “The caterers will arrive at seven. Security measures have been double-checked. And the Six Families’ guest lists have been vetted thoroughly—everyone attending is clear. The event should be perfect.”

Gianni nodded. “Excellent.”

Fabio cleared his throat. “And who’s in charge of keeping me out of trouble at this event?”

Makayla finally glanced at him. “That would be your own responsibility, Mr. Fortunato. However, I told Jabari to make sure you’re properly handled.”

“Ha! Your brother?” Fabio grinned. “While he may be my best friend and head of my security, Jabari can’t control me.”

“We’ll see.” She returned her focus to her notebook, entirely unfazed by his charm.

“We will.” Fabio licked his lips. “Do you ever. . .I don’t know. . . smile?”

She didn’t even blink. “I smile when I am happy to see someone.”

“Ouch. Are you not happy to see me ?” Fabio clutched his chest as if she’d shot him through the heart. “You wound me.”

Unmoved, she scribbled another note in her book. “I imagine you’ll recover.”

Corrado stifled a laugh behind his hand, clearly enjoying his brother’s floundering.

Gianni sighed. “Fabio, are you done hassling her now?”

"Give me one more minute.” Fabio leaned forward, undeterred. “I bet you’re a blast at parties, huh?”

“As you already know, I don’t attend them,” she replied curtly, flipping a page in her notebook. “Too loud. Too messy. I would rather lounge on my couch with a good book.”

Fabio’s grin widened. “You know, you’re really good at playing hard to get.”

“I’m not playing anything, Mr. Fortunato.” Her tone was matter-of-fact, not unkind, just final.

I hid my smile behind the rim of my wine glass, watching Fabio try— and fail —to charm her.

There was something almost comical about it.

Fabio, the carefree, tattooed rogue who probably had women falling over themselves to get his attention, was utterly out of his depth with Makayla.

And yet, I could see it in his eyes that he was fascinated by her.

“Alright, alright,” Gianni interjected, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Leave Makayla alone, Fabio. She’s not interested in your nonsense.”

She turned back to Gianni as if the conversation with Fabio had already been erased from her mind. “I’ll follow up with you in a few hours, Don Fortunato. If there’s anything else you need before then, let me know.”

“Will do.”

“Mrs. Fortunato,” She directed her view my way and greeted me with a polite smile. “I’m Makayla, the head of management here at the castle. I was absent this morning for the formal staff greeting due to an emergency, but it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

I returned her smile. “It’s nice to meet you too, Makayla.”

She checked her watch. “I am also ready to give you the tour now.”

Gianni turned to me, brushing a hand lightly down my arm. “Makayla is also here to show you around the estate today.”

“Oh.”

“As the new Lady of the Castle, there are a few things you’ll need to get acquainted with. I want you to be in charge around here.”

“Alright.”

“Makayla will help you with the management of the grounds and staff.” And he remained in that Alpha Mafia Zone as he gave me my order. “Everything that happens here, all the day-to-day running of our estate, is under your control You’ll oversee the staff, the operations, and any events we hold. And if someone messes up to badly, kill them.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You’ll order your men to do it.” He gestured to the twins and other guards from last night as they suddenly entered the room.

What the fuck?

I got closer to him and lowered my voice. “Gianni, I’m not killing anyone.”

Fabio snickered. “I knew the Devil somehow married an angel. How will this work?”

Gianni frowned at him and then put his gaze back on me. “Don’t worry about the killing part. For now, Makayla will guide you through everything else.”

“Okay.” I leaned over and kissed Gianni softly, feeling the warmth of his lips against mine.

When I pulled back, I whispered, “I’ll see you later.”

His eyes darkened slightly, and that familiar possessive look crossed his face. “Make it soon, Queen.”

With that, I followed Makayla out of the dining room.

Vampire Queen to the Lady of the Castle. What else does life have in store for me?