Vow to Me: A Mafia Arranged Marriage (The Romano Empire Book 1)

Chapter Six

As soon as I left the cabin, I called an urgent meeting with Dad, Marco and Enzo. So here I am, sat facing my father at his desk at eleven o’clock at night—my wedding night, no less. And to think I was worried about Izzy wanting to consummate the marriage tonight.

“If you’re here to complain about the marriage you’re too fucking late Luca, not sure if you noticed earlier today when you stood at the altar, but you’re already married,” my dad says sternly while giving me look that says he wants to throttle me.

Sighing, I decide to just lay it all out there. “Marcello Amate is our rat, his sons racked up a debt with Mu?oz and therefore in exchange for writing off their debt, Marcello has been giving the Colombians information on all our dealings and our whereabouts. Angelo is now dead. Marcello and Lucian are tied up in the basement of a cabin an hour”s drive from here.”

“How the fuck did you do all of this while also getting married? You left your wedding reception three hours ago! And how the fuck did you figure out it was the Amate’s?” he asks, dumbfounded.

I grind my jaw and explain how my pretty little wife isn’t so innocent after all. After she left the cabin, I interrogated Marcello into telling me exactly what he’d been telling Mu?oz, and also how he ended up in the basement. Turns out my wife has some skills, considering she took down all three of them, tied them up and managed to get them into the back of a fucking rental, before driving them to the cabin, dragging them down to the basement and tying them up. Without help.

When she first told me what she did I was convinced she had to have had help, turns out she did not. She even told them she’d kept them awake so that they knew she was alone, and that they’d been caught and taken down by a little woman. It’s a good tactic on her part, feeding into their views of misogyny, bet that hurt their fragile egos. She’s a fucking spitfire that one.

“So, what? You just killed Angelo in front of her? Please don’t tell me you ruined her wedding dress; she’ll likely tie you up in a basement like she did with them,” Marco says, making me realize I skimped out on that detail.

“Oh no, I forgot to mention that part. My sociopathic wife whipped a Glock out of a pocket in her wedding dress, shot him between the eyes and then insisted I call her Izzy before walking away as if the whole thing never happened,” I say dryly.

Once I’m finished, I’m left with Dad, Marco and Enzo all staring at me, slack jawed and fucking incredulous that my wildcat wife managed to hold three grown men hostage, and not only that, but find the rats we’ve been trying to find for the past three months, in a few days, no less and kill a man without any hesitation. The whole thing is surreal, absurd, it’s utterly fucking ridiculous.

Enzo is first to recover, breaking out into hysterical laughter, with tears streaming down his face while Marco snickers next to him, and my father just sighs and gazes up to the ceiling. I’m waiting to see his reaction the most, who the fuck knows how he’ll react, it could go one of a few ways.

Finally, he looks at me, right in the eye. “I’ll leave you boys to take care of them, and keep that woman close, Luca. Not because we shouldn’t trust her, but because we need to earn her trust. Having her on our side can only lead to good things. Oh, and be prepared, because you’re fucked, son,” he states with a smug grin.

“Prepared for what?”

“Be prepared to fall in love with her,” he says as if it’s obvious. “It won’t take long. You can only hope she ends up loving you in return.”

Well, fuck.

That was an unexpected turn of events. I half expected Dad to warn me to be careful, not to trust her, to keep an eye on her. Not fucking tell me to be prepared to fall in love. I don’t even fucking know what love feels like, I’m pretty sure I’m not capable of it, but I just give him a nod to appease him before turning around and walking my ass straight out the door, both my brothers hot on my heels.

I’m tired as fuck, and all I want to do is go home to bed, but Izzy’s now at my apartment, and who the fuck knows what she’s doing, and I really do not want to get into anything with her tonight. The woman is kind of scary, I get the feeling she’d happily chop my balls off and feed them to me if I pissed her off enough.

We decided to deal with the Amate’s tonight, figuring it would look better to our men if we dealt with the situation straight away, and me being the one to do it on my wedding night shows I’m not fucking around when it comes to the famiglia. So, we made a plan for me to deal with Marcello, and I left Lucian for my brothers to fight over. Marco, of course, was indifferent, choosing to let Enzo deal with him just to shut him up.

Before I left the cabin to meet my family, I instructed my men to move Marcello and Lucian to one of our warehouses in the city and to dispose of Angelo, which of course they did without hesitation, even though they must be wondering why, considering we kept a tight lid on the fact that we had a rat.

So here we are, in the middle of the warehouse, with both stronzos stung up to the metal barred wall, with thirty of our men standing on the sidelines. We invited some of our men so they can witness their deaths and get word around about what happens if you go against us, we can’t have them thinking they can double cross us and get away with it.

I’m going first, so I take a step towards Marcello.

“Was it worth it? You know you’re about to die, was it worth betraying your family?” I sneer. He stays still, his features set in stone, but I can see the flicker of fear in his eyes and like hell if I don’t thrive on it.

“I did what I did, Luca. Let’s just get this over with, surely you want to get home to your new puttana.”

Rage simmers up inside me, how fucking dare he call my wife a whore? But I give him a nod, and while he tries to stay nonchalant, I see his shoulders drop slightly in relief, probably thinking I’ll just shoot him to hurry this show up.

That’s not how this is gonna go, sorry man.

I chuckle and walk over to the workbench and look at my pretty little utensils, deciding what to use today. I see the pliers, shears, and a small mason jar. An idea flickers in my mind and excitement bubbles up in my veins.

After picking up what I need and handing it to Marco, I stroll over to Marcello and grab a blade from my ankle sheath before cutting his shirt open in one quick motion, making him audibly gulp.

You think you can betray us, then call my wife a whore?” I seethe, letting the rage show on my face.

“I-I’m sorry.” He sputters.

“No more fucking talking for you,” I snap and motion for Marco to pass me what I need.

With my hand on his jaw, keeping his mouth open, I grab his tongue with the pliers. He starts thrashing around but I keep a steady hold and using the shears I chop it off before motioning for Marco to open the mason jar.

I grin when he holds it out for me before dropping the tongue inside.

“Good.” I nod to myself. “Now to get started.” The sheer terror in his eyes, realizing I’m only just getting started and that I’m not at all going to keep this quick, sends a thrill through me.

Fuck, I love this shit.

I spend the next hour removing fingers, strategically slicing him open in places that won’t let him bleed out too soon and carving off pieces off his skin. All the while our men continue to watch, making sure they keep their expressions stoic.

Marco stands to my left with a look of boredom on his face while Enzo has spent the last hour barring his teeth at a crying Lucian like a wild dog, fucking maniac that he is. Marcello has passed out a couple of times, but Marco gave him a shot of adrenaline, ensuring he stays awake for what’s about to happen next.

Finally, we’re down to the last stages. I intentionally kept his chest and torso free from torture for my plan to work. Grabbing a small knife, I start carving off a strip of skin from his chest, the flesh I’m carving spans from just below his belly button up to his breastbone and is about an inch wide. After detaching the skin, I motion for Marco to pass me the mason jar again.

I wrap the skin around the top of the jar and tie it together.

“Uh, Luca, what the hell are you doing?” Marco asks in confusion, wondering why the hell I’m bothering putting his tongue in a jar in the first place, never mind using his skin as a bow to top it off when we already have our men here to showcase Marcellos”s demise.

“My wife is the reason he’s here, it’s only fair she gets something from her hard work. After all, I owe her a wedding gift, and that gift needed a pretty little bow,” I say with a grin and Enzo barks out a laugh as Marco cringes, probably imagining her reaction. I know she killed Angelo earlier without a second thought, but who the fuck knows how she’ll react to my gift. Ah well, fuck it.

I’m trying to show her I don’t see her as a princess like I implied earlier. Surely, she’ll appreciate that, right?

Once I finish admiring my handiwork, I step back up to Marcello and stare into his empty eyes. Seems he checked out a while ago and is barely hanging on.

“Let this be a lesson not to turn on us,” I announce to the room before taking my knife and slitting the bastard”s throat.

“Fucking finally, can I play with mine now?” Enzo whines and I give him a nod. That crazy bastard could be here all night playing with his newest toy, or he could be here five minutes after accidentally killing him.

I do a slow spin around the room, giving each man a don’t fuck with us look before picking up Izzy’s gift and strolling out the room.

I’ve had enough excitement for one day, I think I’ll give her it in the morning.