Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
I had one rule to ensure the safety of my outfit. That she will never remarry. Granted, I plan to build my empire with heirs and die at an old age, but in my line of work, I’m a walking target at all times. I will not let my men and my Seattle reign be brought down. The only options in my absence are either my child or my wife’s brother. Yet the latter will never happen, not when I’m done. I haven't even told Giulio, my underboss, my plans for this marriage, and I intend to keep it that way until it’s time to put the pedal to the metal.
Tomorrow, I will meet her. And by the end of the week, she will be Mrs. Valiente, wife of the ruthless mafia boss, Nico Dante Valiente. Poor woman, she will never see it coming—what it means for me to be her husband and her my wife. She is a pawn, and there’s no guilt within me knowing this. I have no conscience. My dead father, God rest his soul, taught me to be a merciless leader, a man everyone quakes in the presence of. He always knew I would be his shadow and grow to be the best made man he trained me to be.
“What can I help you with?” I rev the engine.
“Listen, my daughter may have a little bit of snark to her, and as a man, I felt it was appropriate to come to you and let you know she can be easily—” He hesitates, and the skin around my green eyes tightens. Where is he going with this?“—placed back into submission with the right amount of force.”
Is he calling me to tell me not only does he beat my future bride, but that I must do the same? The nerve. The egotism. Who does he think he is to call and tell me this? And secondly, who is he to tell me how I will handle my own wife when she is disobedient to me?
Running one hand through my black hair, I shake my head, my tongue grazing my top teeth.
“Giuseppe, I mean this with the most disrespect one man can probably produce. If you ever touch my wife in that manner again or tell me I should, I won’t hesitate to show you the same treatment. This arrangement doesn’t keep you safe from my wrath if you fuck with anything that is mine,” I growl.
There is a moment of silence that follows, and I await his coming statement, ready to defend what needs to be.
“You’re right. I’m sorry. I would never want another man to tell me how to handle my wife. We will see you tomorrow, and we look forward to the joining of our families. Goodbye, Valiente.”
I grunt, annoyed, and end the call on my dashboard screen.
How fucking dare he? Now I know my wife is submissive and meek. A weak woman. Which I cannot have if she is to be mine. Men all over are looking for a way to get in, and if anyone or anything looks too afraid, they just might get in and use that weakness for their gain. The only thing that brings me hope is the fact that he said there’s a bit of snark to her. Which means there is a small flame I can maybe fan into something wilder, something stronger.
But what really pisses me the fuck off, another man simply trying to tell me what to do, that makes me see red.
Hardened and without mercy, I will not let anyone or anything break me down or boss me around. Ever.
Stepping off my private jet, I button my suit jacket and put my sunglasses on, blocking the mid-morning glare. Giulio stands beside me, scanning the area around us as the black SUV pulls up. He steps in front, opens the door, and gestures for me to enter. Sliding in, I pull out my phone and check the status back in Seattle.
“They found the shipment. I need to focus on today and some of the wedding shit. You handle the perpetrators. I want proof. Pictures. Names and burial coordinates,” I tell him, now moving on to look at the emails pertaining to my underground club, Dante’s. I run a sex club, very elite with a high price tag. My members are mostly from the outfit, but there are lots of Seattle businessmen who own gold memberships. Every night is completely booked solid, and the line to get in to the upstairs nightclub—a front to keep the men in uniforms away—is wrapped around the building. Not that it would matter, because I have a lot of them on my payroll.
I answer the emails, then peer out the window, waiting for Giulio to finish the call I asked him to make.