Arranged Mafia Marriage

Michael

“Goddamnit, missed again,” I straighten, then slam my cue against the edge of the billiards table. It promptly snaps in two. “Che cazzo!” I glower at the half-broken cue in my hand, then raise my hand to hurl it.

Seb steps aside. “Watch it, Mika,” he murmurs. “Your temper is getting the better of you.”

“There should be a rule that you cannot defeat the Capo at a game,” I lower my arm and glare at Massimo-the pezzo di merda who smirks at me from across the table.

“Giving up so easily, Padrone?”

“Vaffanculo!” I growl as I fling the broken half of the cue on the floor. It’s her fault that I am in this state. Every night I sleep next to her… No, not sleep. I lay awake next to her, breathing in her sweet scent, aware of her luscious curves next to me on the bed. And the little noises she makes sometimes in her sleep, or the way she sometimes turns over and snuggles into me. The first time that happened, I tried to move away-yeah, me, the man who never denies himself pussy, tried to put distance between himself and his wife… So, yeah, tell me again, how that happened?-and she simply followed me, insisting on cuddling into my side, as I lay there with a fast-thickening erection, that I had to jerk off to in the bathroom, trying not to make too much noise before leaving before dawn. And even after leaving and trying to get some work done in my study, the scent of her followed me. Images of her assailed me, as if determined to burn right into my brain.

Che cazzo! I am really losing it. I glare around at the faces of my brothers. “What?” I growl at Christian who’s staring at me over his knitting needles. What the- I do a double take. “Is that what I think it is?”

“You mean this?” He holds up the knitting needles, and nope, na-a-h I wasn’t imagining things. Stronzo actually does have a pair of-you heard that right-knitting needles, held between his fingers.

“What are you doing?” I snap.Original from NôvelDrama.Org.

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“I am not sure.” I rub my eyes, “Tell me you are not knitting.”

He glances down at the needles. “I am…not…knitting.” The clackity-clack of the needles fills the space.

“Shit, he’s actually knitting,” Massimo turns to gawk at him.

“Why the hell are you knitting?” Seb mutters from his position against the wall-he’s put a fair distance between us, I notice, bastardo.

“Maybe he’s trying to get in touch with his feminine side?” Xander offers.

“That’s the kind of shit we expect you to pull,” Adrian retorts, “But Christian? Naw.” He scratches his chin, “It must have something to do with a chick.”

“A chick?” Seb scoffs, “If that were the case, surely, he’d need to be using a completely different kind of needle?”

Adrian shoots him a sideways glance, “Was that a joke? Because I don’t get the joke.”

“You wouldn’t get the joke because you have no sense of humor.”

Adrian laughs, “So speaks the most serious of all the men in Sicily.”

“I’m not serious; you are serious.”

“I’m afraid, in this regard, I have to side with Adrian,” I state. “You are going to make a very effective Capo, but you could do with a little bit of loosening up.”

“Yeah, you take everything too seriously,” Christian drawls from his position in the armchair. Fucker is sprawled out, and with the reading glasses he has on… He resembles a more serious version of the brother I know.

“Not all of us can be happy-go-lucky and waste time trying to explore our feminine side or some such shit,” Seb growls. “Some of us have had to fight for everything that comes our way.”

“Here we go again,” Christian mutters, “like we haven’t already heard about how your being the half-brother means you always get the raw deal. When you know it’s not true. Not only did our mother embrace you as her own son, but she also worked herself to an early grave taking care of the both of you, in addition to her own five sons.”

“And look where that got her,” Seb pushes away from the wall. “Her own son, your own brother turns on his own flesh and blood and helps his Capo’s wife escape… Now, that’s something to make her turn in her grave, for sure.”

“Don’t talk about her that way.” Christian rises to his feet, still holding those goddamn knitting needles. He takes a step forward and the ball of yarn falls to the floor next to him.

“I ain’t telling a lie here and you know that,” Seb scoffs. “Ask fratellone, here, and he’ll only confirm it.”

“Don’t bring me into this, you guys,” I mutter. “Luca has his punishment coming to him, when I finally catch up with him. So, whatever this unresolved business is between the two of you, it’s up to you guys to sort it out.”

Christian glowers at Seb, “You’ve always had a chip on your shoulder about being the illegitimate bastard. Time you moved on from that, don’t you think?”

“Who are you calling a bastard?” Seb prowls toward Christian, who takes a step forward as the yarn winds around his ankle. He takes another step, stumbles, then rights himself. “Che cazzo!” He glares at the ball of yarn, “Why is it that the shit that seems so easy is the most difficult to master?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?” I ask.

“Are you sure you’re talking about the knitting, or is this about women?” Massimo arches an eyebrow.

“You mean ‘are you talking about one particular woman,’ right?” Xander inserts.

“Shut the fuck up.” Christian glares at Xander.

“You’re twisting yourself up in knots.” Seb smirks.

“No, I am not.” Christian scowls at Seb, “And what the fuck are you smirking at?”

“Me?” Seb’s grin widens, “I am not smirking.”

Christian throws up his fist, “You laughing at me, stronzo?”

“You talkin’ to me, stronzo?” Seb retorts.

“Vaffanculo, testa di cazzo.” Christian lunges forward. This time, he does actually trip on the yarn. He crashes down, just as Seb gets out of his way.

“Shit, you’re a mess,” Seb shakes his head. “Alas, poor Christian, he did mean well.”

Christian pushes up to his feet. He grabs his now crooked reading glasses and flings them on the table. “First, you quote Taxi Driver, then Shakespeare. Make up your mind, asshole.” He swipes out his fist; Seb ducks. Christian hurls his fist again. This time, Seb steps aside. Christian stumbles past him. Seb’s on him in a flash. He steps up behind Christian, wraps his arm around his neck, and yanks. Christian growls. He grips Seb’s arm, bends forward, heaves, and Seb goes flying over his shoulder. He lands on his back with a crash that seems to reverberate through the room. Christian rushes forward, only his foot slips on the damn ball of yarn again. He falls over and hits the ground next to Seb. The two lay there, chests having, breaths coming in pants.

I swallow my laughter, walk over to stand between them. “You guys done, yet?” I hold out both of my arms.

Christian grabs my left hand, and I pull him up. I stare down at Seb, who glowers at Christian. “This is not over yet,” he growls as he grabs my hand. I haul him to his feet, as well.

“You two need to sort out your shit before we meet the Kane Company. I can’t have bad blood between the two of you weakening our position.”

“I am not the one with issues; he’s the one with issues,” Christian glowers back.

“No bad blood here.” Seb shrugs. “Only a man pretending to be bad, when he’d rather be playing doctor with a certain… doctor.”

“Doctor, huh?” Just as I thought. I jerk my chin toward Christian, who glares at Seb.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you keep finding excuses to see the doctor. She’s something, eh? That figure, that fair skin, those tits…” Seb cups his palms below his chest, and Christian’s features harden.

His nostrils flare, and a growl rumbles up his chest. “Stop talking about her, you pezzo di merda.” He starts to dive toward Seb, only I slap my palm in Christian’s chest.

“Back off, you complete idiot. He’s trying to get under your skin.”

“Oh, he’s succeeding, all right.” Christian lunges forward, and this time, Massimo grabs him from behind.

“Shit, you’re pussywhipped. You haven’t even slept with her and you’re already protecting her honor?”

Christian struggles against Massimo’s hold. He manages to break free, but Adrian grips his other shoulder. “Chill the fuck down, stronzo,” he snaps. “Asshole’s simply trying to make a point.”

“I’ll make a point all right, with him.” Christian rolls his shoulders. His biceps bulge, he rolls his neck, and his shoulders seem to grow even more massive. He’s not the tallest nor the broadest of all of us. That honor belongs to Massimo. But Christian also never gets angry enough to lose his cool and fight, so guess this is a first, all around. He rushes forward, with both Massimo and Adrian still holding onto him, before Massimo throws his arm around Christian’s chest, and manages to halt him.

Seb laughs, “That all you got in you, you pathetic piece of-”

I turn and sink my fist in his face.

“What the fuck?” he roars as he stumbles back.

“Back the fuck off, Seb. Stop trying to bait him.” I turn on Christian, “And that goes for you too, Christian. Get a grip on your dick, or your emotions, or both.”

“You mean like you have?” Christian mumbles.

I freeze.

So does every other person in the room.

“Minchia,” Christian swears. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

I glare at him, and he holds my gaze, “No, seriously, fratellone. I didn’t mean it.”

“Sure, you did,” I glance around at the rest of them. “Is that what this is about? Is that why there’s unrest among you lot? You think I’ve lost control of my personal life; that’s why you bastards are picking fights with each other, as well?”

The guys look at each other, the expressions on their faces ranging from embarrassment to unease to discomfort.

“Che cazzo!” I growl, “This is about me, eh? You guys don’t trust me to figure out my own shit?”

“It’s not that, Mika,” Xander murmurs.

“Then how do you explain that your twin, who is normally as even-tempered as you, lost his cool today?”

“It’s to do with a woman,” Massimo offers.

“Bull-fucking-shit,” I snap. “You going to feed me that line, as well?” I scowl at Massimo, “You, who is the most straight-talking of all of us?”

Massimo’s face reddens. He glances away then back at me, “You’re right.” He adds, “It is about you… Partly.” He raises a shoulder, “Okay, it is definitely… Probably… only about you.” He releases Christian; so does Adrian. Christian straightens his collar, as Massimo steps back. “Look, Mika, you’ve just been a different man, is all. You’ve, uh, changed, since you met her.”

“Changed?” I scowl, “How have I changed?”

“For one, you’re wearing jeans,” Massimo points out.

I glance down at my clothes, then swear aloud. Fuck, if I am not wearing jeans. “What’s wrong with wearing jeans?” I glare at him, “You wear jeans. Hell, we all wear jeans.”

“But not you, Mika.” Adrian shuffles his feet, “You hate being dressed in anything except formal pants, and that too, only made by our family tailor.”

“These are stitched by our family tailor.” I glance around at their faces again. “Porca miseria. These aren’t stitched by our family tailor?”

Xander shakes his head, “Sadly not, fratellone. They’re off the shelf, Levi’s.”

I wince. How the hell had I gotten hold of them? How the hell do I even own a pair? “I had no idea…” my voice tapers off. “It’s only jeans.” I scowl at Xander, “It’s not like it’s the end of the world.”

“To quote you, fratellone,” he smirks, “wearing jeans is the end of the world.”

I glower at him and he raises his hands, “At least, that’s what you said not too long ago.”

“Merda,” I run my fingers through my hair, “I’ll fix it.” I scowl down at the offending garment I have on. “Still, it’s hardly a sign that I don’t have things under control.”

That’s when there’s a knock on the door. I frown. The staff knows not to disturb me when I am in here with my brothers. It’s a billiards room, but the rest of my team knows that this is where I discuss business. So, they wouldn’t disturb me, unless… I stiffen. My heart begins to race. I pivot, head for the door and pull it open. “Is she all right?”

Cassandra peeks behind me and her lips firm. I glance over my shoulder to find Adrian hovering behind me. I turn back to her, “Well,” I snap, “is she okay?”

Cassandra pulls her gaze back to my face. “She fainted.”