Page 10 of Dark Breaker

“The negotiations were a smashing success,” he tells me, though the deadness in his voice makes me believe they were anything but.

“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did we settle this or not?”

“It’s settled.” Massimo is unable to meet my eyes, or Angela’s. “You’re to marry Fabio D’Alimonte in a month’s time.”

2

Fabio

I’m lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling. I can’t sleep. How can I, given what happened?

I’m stunned. Absolutely stunned. This wasn’t the outcome I was expecting. I’m going to lose the last of my freedom because of a mistake I made. I wish I could go back in time and change things. Delay my entrance to the gas station. Avoid turning into the grocery store.

Shit.

What am I worried about?

I don’t have to marry whoever my father tells me to.

I’m my own man.

He’s in prison. What can he do?

A whole lot, as I well know.

Still, just because I shot some low-level mafia dude doesn’t give my father the right to ruin my life. During our meeting, I put so many other options on the table. Firstly, to pay that Luciano dickwad three hundred thousand Euros for messing up his leg. From my own pocket. But his brother Massimo fucking refused! “On principal. Because it’s far too low.” Some people don’t know the value of money. I even suggested throwing in my Lamborghini, but he still said no. I planned to give it to him “as is,” with all the damage his sister caused. Would have been a quick way to get rid of it.

Next I offered to work with them for free for a few weeks, and help them grow their contacts among the D’Alimonte network, but this time Giovanni said no. He claimed his family had “enough contacts.” I’m not sure how that’s possible, though. You can never have too many contacts.

My father was the one who put forward the idea of marriage. I took Papa aside and tried to talk to him privately, but he insisted I’d made an enemy of a family I couldn’t afford to be enemies with.

“The Morettis are allied with the Amatos now,” he said. “Together, they form the most powerful mafia alliance in Italia. You will marry her. We need in on this alliance.” When I didn’t answer, he added: “It will be good for you. Someone to ground you. Besides, she’s not hard on the eyes.”

Well, I don’t give a shit how powerful they are, I’m not marrying the little she-demon.

Still, I suppose father is right about one thing: she’s not hard on the eyes—I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone more beautiful. And I don’t know anyone else who cuts their hair like that, either, growing out one side and shaving off the other entirely. It’s kind of sexy. And she dresses all in leather, hinting at a kinky side. But… she has this arrogance about her, and it ruins her beauty. She acts like she’s too good for me.

I saw it in her eyes when she met my gaze at the gas station, when she sniffed before looking away. She definitely thinks she’s better than me. That pissed me off so much that I followed her. I wanted to dominate her, possess her, show her the error of her ways. When I raced her and won, even though it was a hollow victory—it only proved that my car was better than her Vespa—I was ready to let it go. It was just bad luck that a cop car happened to be in the area.

When I passed the grocery store later, on a whim I turned in. I saw a Vespa that looked like hers, but I couldn’t be sure, since all Vespas essentially look alike. It was of the same color, though, so I decided to park beside her and wait. I wasn’t really sure what I planned. To seduce her, perhaps. To teach her she’s not too good for me at all, that I can have any woman I want, even her.Especiallyher.

I realized how silly I was behaving and almost vacated the lot, but then decided I might as well buy some groceries while I was there. Imagine my surprise when I returned to the lot to find out the she-demon had keyed my lambo! For no reason at all, except perhaps out of spite.

And now I have to marry her. I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. She’s going to have to be trained, there’s no doubt about that. Broken. In body and spirit. Everything. I’ll have to work slowly… turning her into my fucktoy, my private instrument of release, teaching her all the ways to please me best. It’s almost sweet revenge for her earlier behavior, except… I don’t want a lifetime of vengeance. Revenge is a dish best served in small portions: you only need a small helping to satisfy yourself, and then you can move on. But to wake up with her at my side every day, that could become a torture.

Variety is the spice of life. It’s why I’ve never grown attached to anyone, never fallen for anyone. I grow bored with women after sleeping with them two or three times. It’s just my nature. I’m not boyfriend material, and definitely not the marrying type.

So like I said, I’m not sure how this is supposed to work. I’m going to have to find a way out of it. My father has been ruling my life since before he went to prison. And now that he’s in prison, it’s almost gotten worse.

Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever have any true freedom. Oh sure, I run most of the day-to-day operations of our enterprise—both the legal and illegal sides—but my father is the one who makes all the big calls. Who we ally with, who we attack, who we bankrupt.

And apparently now, who I’ll marry.

I finally close my eyes and fall into a troubled sleep.

I dream about the she-demon from the gas station. Rosa Moretti. I’m pumping gas into one of my cars, minding my own business, when she pulls up on her Vespa.

She flashes me a smile. “Well hello, big boy.”