Death Do Us Part

III.

Domenico

     The sense of contentment I feel couldn't be undone by even the worst news right now. Satisfaction hums in my veins, pumping through my blood stream with each steady beat of my heart. I have no fear of the man sitting across from me, though i'm sure thats what his unwavering stare was supposed illicit in me. He wants me to be terrified of him, and it bothers him that i'm not.
     My future father in law and I don't speak a single word to one another. There's nothing left to say on my part. I brought him his traitor, laid him at his feet even, and I got what I wanted for the favor I so graciously bestowed upon the Castelluci family. If I had to guess the reason for Davide's silence, I'd say he's more preoccupied with trying to figure out how he never suspected Cliff of betraying him.
     I brush my knuckles across my mouth to hide a subtle smirk. I'd pay an ungodly amount of money to be in his head right now, to hear his inner monologue and all of the ways he is beating himself up. There isn't a doubt in my mind that he's positively stewing over the fact that I figured it out before he did, and nothing brings me more happiness.
     Hating The Castelluci's is ingrained in me, as well as all of the men I was raised with. Hell, even the women in my family, who are normally told to stay out of all the politics and business, have a natural hostility towards our rivals. Hating a Castelluci has become one of my basic needs for survival, right up there with food, breathing, and water.
     The decision to end the war was one that blindsided us all, but no one more than me. The second my father told me of his plan to finally make peace with Davide and join forces, I knew what was coming next. I ran from it for months, burying myself in work and denial like that would somehow change my fate.
     There is only one way to join two rival families in the eyes of the Cosa Nostra, so of course I knew what was coming when my father sat me down to give me the news, but that didn't make it any harder to digest. Outwardly, I handled the demand that I marry the youngest Castelluci daughter well, but internally, I was ready to burn the world to the ground.
     Control isn't a want for me, but a need, and when my choices are taken from me, I feel like an experiment rat trapped in a maze, ready to gnaw off its own leg due to madness. This is the worst punishment thats ever been thrust on me, and I did nothing to deserve it aside from being my fathers first born son.
     I can count on one hand the amount of times I've begged and pleaded for anything in my life. At eight, I begged my father not to put a bullet in my dogs head for peeing in the house. At thirteen, I begged him to stop beating my mother for talking back to him. At seventeen, I begged and cried on hands and knees for god to spare my mother's life and rid her of the cancer eating up her lifeline. That was the last time I cried, and certainly the last time I prayed to god for anything.
     No one will ever understand how hard it was for me to beg the one man whose made my life the most miserable not to force me into marriage, or how disgusted I felt with myself when I realized my pitiful pleading was all in vain. The decision was set in stone, and despite my insistence that the treaty could work around one of my cousins or younger brothers instead, my father wouldn't budge, maintaining that the only proposal Davide would accept had to come from his heir.
     I'd never resented my position as underboss more. Even now that I have had months to come to terms with it, the whole ordeal makes my blood boil, makes me curse the day I was born. Marrying a Castelluci is about as appealing to me as having all of my nails pulled off with pliers, as appealing as letting elevator doors close on my dick. I could think up thousands of torture scenarios and pain i'd rather endure.
     This victory tonight quelled some of the rage thats been simmering inside of me for weeks now. If i'm to be forcibly tied to this man and his daughter for life, I want three to be no doubt in his mind that the Zanotti's are just better than the Castelluci's on every level. We think better, we move smarter and more stealthily, and we are smarter, stronger, and more powerful than they could ever hope to be. I can't have them thinking they are on the same level as us just because they will be joining our ranks.
     The idea of being in charge of any of the thick skulled, incompetent members of Davide's bloodline nauseates and infuriates me. I've never fucking liked the way they operate. They are snakey and untrustworthy, and I don't trust any one of them as far as I can fucking throw them.
     Coming in first on the list of Castelluci's I despise is that piece of shit Santino. Even if our families weren't sworn enemies, I'd hate the dude. He's got a face that makes you want to clench your fist and swing, and lord knows how he feels he earned the right to the cocky way he carries himself. If I believed in god, I'd pray that he forgets to put the safety on when he's tucking his gun in his belt, and accidentally shoots himself.
     There's nothing that would bring me more pleasure than to pummel his face and make his ugly mug look worse than it already does. It's actually comical that he thinks himself attractive, and I can't imagine his sister is easy on the eyes either. That was part of my reasoning for demanding to see her tonight. Most of my cousins met her tonight before i got to, and as soon as all the texts started pouring in, I just knew they were fucking with me.
     You're a lucky man Cugino.
     She's a knockout cousin. Congratulations.
     Wifey is a dime piece Dom.
     And here I thought all of the Castelluci's looked like those inbred people from that horror movie about the eyes in the mountains or whatever.
     Dom, you don't even want your fiancee right? There's no reason to shoot me when I tell you I was bricked the fuck up when she shook my hand. Sorry buddy. This one is gonna give you a run for your money.
     My hands shook as each message poured in one right after the other, as I imagined them all laughing at my expense and having a field day. They did the same thing when flat Francesca started slipping love notes in my locker in high school. The nickname was cruel and uncalled for, however accurate it was. The poor thing was built like a ten year old boy, no tits to speak of, and an ass like a deflated balloon. Her facial features were mildly attractive, but I'd never been into blondes.
     She was sweet as sugar though, so I let her down easy, made up some story about a girlfriend who lived in Jersey that didn't exist. She took the rejection well, and was really understanding about the whole thing, which was good for me because I don't think I could have handled if she'd gotten emotional.
     These assholes are back to their same dumb antics. It's not enough for them to taunt me about the wedding they know I don't want. Now they have another button to press, because their reactions tell me that my fiancee to be is lacking in the looks department, the body department, or both. By how thick they are laying on the jokes, I'm gonna take a wild shot in the dark and say that it's both.
     Being shallow is not one of the qualities i'm proud to claim, but I am. I wouldn't say I have a type per-say, but there are obvious physical attributes I gravitate to, especially as a man who has never struggled to pick up women. Attraction is important to me, and why shouldn't it be? Its all you have go off of when first meeting someone, before you get to know all of the characteristics and personality that make up who they are.
     I did fully intend to bring Cliff to our twisted form of justice, but my intentions tonight were also to finally meet my fiancee alone. I didn't want to lay eyes on her for the first time in front of her family, or in front of mine at tonights engagement party.
     Davide finally opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, a quiet knock fills the room. He clears his throat and shuffles around his desk to open the office door. I make no room to turn around or stand as she enters behind me, calmly remaining in my seat.
     I can feel them standing behind me, staring at the back of my head, but I simply brush a spot of dust from kneeling in the driveway off of my black pants.
     "Davide would you mind leaving us for a few moments so we can speak privately." The old man makes a noise of disbelief in the back of his throat. I'm sure this is the first time he's been asked to leave his own office, and by the son of his enemy no less.
     He huffs impatiently as I turn my head just slightly to watch him move toward the door. "Ten minutes Domenico. I'll be timing you." I don't dignify that comment with a response.
     It isn't until the doors are fully closed and I can hear his footsteps retreating down the quiet hall that I finally stand. I hear an intake of breath behind me, and my own breath ceases to a halt when I finally turn around to find the most stunning pair of eyes I have ever fucking seen staring up at me.
     Captivating is an understatement. I'm trapped in them, whatever greeting I had meant to give drying up in my throat. Hazy blue like tropical water, almost turquoise, but shades lighter. She blinks a few times, delicate, wispy lashes fluttering and further sinking me into a catatonic state. There is just no way. Her eyes had to have been created in a lab, pre chosen and hand made to perfection.
     I have a habit of avoiding women's eyes because eye contact feels to intimate, and I don't care to see the hope that we will be something more swimming behind their pupils, but I could fucking stare into this women's eyes for eternity. I could study every fleck of green perfectly blending with blue.
     It isn't until she drags her eyes away from me to stare at the floor that the spell is broken, and I remember who she is, and have to take a step back and ask myself what the hell I'm doing staring into the eyes of Davide Castelluci's daughter like some awestruck fool. She shifts from foot to foot awkwardly, stealing small quick glances at me.
     "Domenico Zanotti," I push my hand out for hers, unsure of how else to greet her.
     "I know who you are, obviously," she says, narrowing her pretty eyes at my outstretched hand like it's covered in poison.
     "And you are?" I ask, ignoring her cold, moody response.
     "Giada," she answers simply, crossing her arms over her chest.
     "It's a pleasure to finally meet you Giada." I slowly take the rest of her in, and am shocked to find that my cousins were in fact not fucking with me. She is physical perfect wrapped in a petite 5'4 body.
     Flawless glowy skin, a straight dainty nose, plump pink lips, silky black hair, and a pretty slender neck that runs into a sweat suit set that is three sizes too big for her. I find myself wishing she was wearing something more form fitting so that I could see if her body matches her exquisite face.
     Her face twists in annoyance she can't mask as she scoffs. "Is it Domenico? Is it a pleasure to meet me?" My name coming out of her mouth sounds so fucking pretty, and I hate it. I hadn't anticipated her being so drop dead gorgeous, and this is throwing me for a loop.
     I had planned to come here cold and detached. I was going to offer her a brief explanation for my absence, and then leave whether she accepted what I had to say or not.
     "You didn't seem too eager to meet me earlier this week when you skipped out on the dinner my family put together for you. My Mama and Matilde cooked all day for that by the way," she lets me know, an unmistakable annoyed edge to her tone. "I thought it was incredibly rude of you not to at least call or text to let us know you wouldn't make it, but then you really outdid yourself tonight didn't you?"
     A humorless laugh follows a narrowed glare and she shakes her head at me. "What kind of a man doesn't show up to his own engagement party?"
     "The busy kind," I shrug.
     "Are  you kidding me?" Her mouth falls open, revealing rows of perfect white teeth. "You couldn't have set aside a couple hours of your evening? I call bullshit." My eyebrows shoot up in surprise at her choice of words.
     "It's not like those things aren't for the women anyway," I can't help but smirk. Giada Castelluci has a little attitude on her, one I was expecting even less than I was expecting her to be a ten out of ten knockout.
     "Thats a bridal shower!" She throws her hands up as if that fact should be so obvious to me. "The engagement party is to celebrate the engagement. Its literally in.the.name." She enunciates each word like shes explaining the concept to a child, and the amusement her attitude brought me starts to fade.
     "You couldn't pay me all the money in the world to care about the difference between a bridal shower and an engagement party. It's just shit women invented because they're bored and love to spend money."
     "I can't believe you just said that," her jaw drops further. "You have no idea how embarrassing that was to have to do that alone. The point of an engagement party is so we can get acquainted with each other's families. Do you even care how fucking awkward it was to have to make small talk with your side of the family, or how tense it was to balance my time between two groups of people who all hate each other?"
     "Does this point have an end?" My jaw locks on its own accord, my back molars grinding together.
     "Yeah it does," she tilts her head up defiantly and fresh rage simmers beneath my skin. "Everyone knows this marriage is a joke, and you're doing nothing to help quiet those rumors."
     "Maybe I don't care to quiet the rumors, did you ever consider that?"
     "So you want people to know that we are two complete strangers being stripped of our choice and forced into marriage."
     "Giada, don't be naive. We couldn't have fooled anyone if we tried," I attempt to reason with her, though I don't really know why i'm wasting my breath. "Everyone knew exactly what this was the moment the news broke. Two people from rival families don't just fall in love and end a twenty year long war. This isn't fucking Romeo and Juliet."
     "Well anyone who had any doubts before knows now don't they? You made sure of that." Her eyes begin to water and a small pang of guilt hits me in the chest. "Do we have to be so blatant about it?" She blinks away any moisture threatening to fall from her eyes, and i'm momentarily sidetracked by how pretty her and dark her eyelashes look, wet with her unshed tears.
     My hand twitches at my side before I shove it in my pocket to keep from reaching up and dabbing at the corners of her eyes with my thumbs. It's a strange impulse, one that I won't feed. I think it stems from guilt over making her cry. I hadn't meant to do that, and hadn't thought she was the crying type based on how boldly she had called me out on my shit.
     "What is it you want from me huh? Do you want us to hold hands and kiss in public and act like a happy couple all to appease others? I don't give a shit what people think."
    "Well I do," she snaps, all traces of her tears gone and replaced with palpable anger. "I care that people are laughing at us and making all sorts of assumptions. I care that your mens bitchy wives were at our engagement party talking shit about me when they've never even met me."
     Another hit to the chest I didn't want to feel, this time accompanied by fury. I don't have to like Giada or her family to care when people are speaking ill of them. Whether I like it or not, they are an extension of me now. People will think of the Castelluci's when they think of the Zanotti's. They can think whatever they want, but when they say that shit out loud, and my future fiancee overhears it, we've got a problem.
     Suddenly I feel sympathy for her. She didn't ask for this anymore than I did, and now she's been stood up by me twice in the same week. Just because I'm not exactly happy about this union, doesn't mean I have to treat her like shit.
     "Well I'm sorry about that. It wasn't my intention to embarrass you or leave you on your own to deal with that. I'll find a way to deal with my mens wives."
     "No, don't bother. It would be too much effort for you, and besides," she pauses, lowering her pretty eyes to the floor. I'm annoyed at how badly I want them back on me, how desperate I am to gaze into them, even when I don't really care for the person they are attached to. "I don't want you to do anything for me."
     "Be careful princess. You get exactly what you ask for." Any sympathy I felt starts to dissipate as I grasp that she is intent on arguing and being difficult. My apologies aren't what shes after. She wants to punish me.
     "Oh," she half scoffs, half laughs. "So if I ask you to actually show up for an event that pertains to both of us, next time you'll do it?" She raises an eyebrow but rages on before I can answer her. "Silly me. I didn't know that all I had to do was ask," she says sarcastically, her smile forced and a bit manic.
     "I could do without the fucking sarcasm, Giada." My voice is a low rumble in my chest as I struggle to maintain my cool.
     "And I could do without this fake excuse for an apology. You're not even sorry and it's pathetic considering you Zanotti's are always raving on and on about how important family is. I showed up for our families! Where the hell were you."
     I'm not in control of my actions as I get into her personal space and force her to back up into the double doors to her father's office. Her pupils dilate, swallowing up half of her blue green iris. She holds her breath but the fiery defiance remains in her eye.
     "Don't ever fucking insinuate that I don't care about my family. You know nothing about me or what I have to do to provide for the people closest to me. You wouldn't know the half of it because your'e a spoiled little brat who doesn't have a care or concern in the world that doesn't include spending daddy's money. Let's get something out of the way now wifey. I don't answer to you, but just for your fucking information, I showed up for our families in a way that counts more than some stupid engagement party. I got the guy that got your cousin and four others killed, and I beat the living shit out of him and tortured vital information out of him, and then I hand delivered him to your papa, like a wrapped up fucking present, so don't stand there and tell me I didn't show up for my family and yours."
     She swallows hard, refusing to make eye contact with me, which only pisses me off more, because if I have to go through the hassle of having my first fight with Giada before my ring is even on her finger, the least she could do is let me stare into those gorgeous pools of blue.
     "No one asked you to do that. What, do you want me to fall on my knees at your feet and thank you?"
     I want you to fall on your knees and do something for me pretty girl.
     I stare up at the ceiling and take a deep breath to compose myself, both from her aggravating words and my own inner monologue. How can I be thinking about her in that way when I also want to throttle her.
     I'm starting to wish she was unattractive or shapeless like I thought she was going to be. That would at least put an end less than honorable thoughts I'm having about her. I'm not actually attracted to her, not for real anyway. Her personality obviously leaves a lot to be desired, and we would have no real chemistry.
     I'm just a man, so I'm hard wired to be attracted to women that look like her. It's in my nature to want to take soft pretty girls and make them moan, whimper, and shake until i've had my fill of the sounds they make.
     "Yeah well maybe thats where we differ wifey. I don't have to be asked to do the things i'm supposed to. I know my place, and you should learn yours." The look she gives me could put me six feet under. Who does this girl think she is staring me down like that?
     It's not that I expected her to be a mute, pliant little submissive with no opinions, but I did expect her to be a bit more demure, and less free with her tongue. Most daughters of Mafia bosses lean towards the timid side. Years of growing up around Brutality and bloodshed will do that to you. Not all families hide their women away from the gore and the violence the way Zanotti's do.
     She's not making this easy for me though, and easy is what I need from her. I deal with too much shit on a day to day to add a nagging wife with a temper to the mix. This fake marriage will never work if both of us have short fuses and the need to have the last word.
     "Stop calling me wifey," she demands.
     "I'll call you whatever I want," I let her know.
     "Can I try out some nicknames for you?" She raises an eyebrow. Part of me is curious to hear what she'd come up with, but it's best to nip her smart attitude in the bud before it gets out of control.
     "Nothing you can't say in church, wifey," I half smirk at the way she frowns and scrunches up her adorable little nose.
     "You're insufferable."
     "You've got a lot of nerve talking to me like that babydoll." A blush creeps onto her cheeks, and she looks equally taken aback and offended. "I've shot men and watched the blood drain from their body for less."
     "I'm not scared of you Domenico."
     "You should be," I growl, getting so close to her face that my forehead is almost touching hers and I can feel the heat of her breath.
     "Well I'm not, and I'm not backing down from the fact that you should have been there tonight. It's unforgivable that you weren't."
     "So don't forgive me then Giada. I really couldn't give a shit. My point remains. I did what I did for your family and mine. If we are all to be connected, I can't have the weak links in your family endangering mine, so if I have to take matters into my own hands because your papa and your useless brother can't, believe me I will.
     I can feel the heat radiating off of her and it's somewhat intoxicating in a weird way. Do I like getting under her skin? I think I do. It feels like we've been in this room arguing for hours, but minutes at the same time. I don't know how many minutes of the ten we have left before her papa comes to send me away, and i'm caught between wanting more time with her, and wanting to get as far away as possible from her before I eat her alive.
     "So that's it then?"
     "That's it I confirm with a solid shake of my head. "I won't hear about this again, and I certainly won't extend an apology a second time when you hardly deserves the first. Don't bring it up again.
     She laughs bitterly and shakes her head.
     "Wow good to know where I stand with you. I'm glad we got that out of the way before the wedding."
     "I would never trick you into believing the dynamic between us would be any different."
     When she looks up at me again, those beautiful eyes hold unbridled hatred. I hear her father shuffling back down the hall, so I straighten out and move a few feet away from her.
     "Night wifey."
     "Goodnight Domenico" Before her dad even has the chance to tell us time is up, she spins away from me, pulls the door open, and walks away from me so quickly her hair would have whipped me in the face had I still been standing close.
    Her father stares after her, his face bewildered and confused. He gives me the thumbs up.
     "Did that go okay?" He asks, eliminating any doubt that he was hanging out outside the door listening to that just now.
     "Swimmingly," I answer blankly, striding past him into the dark hallway. "I'll be by tomorrow." He doesn't bid me a good night, nor do I him.