From Dust To Don: A forced Marriage, Enemies to Lovers Italian Mafia Novella (Lords of The Commission - New York) by Stephanie Amaral

Author:Stephanie Amaral [Amaral, Stephanie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-19T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 7

Giancarlo

I was drunk before 11 a.m. Drowning in both whiskey and a bitter possibility that had me gurgling the blood I drew from biting my tongue.

It had to be a strategy. A way to get me away from his princess.

“Leave the bottle,” I grunted at the bartender I’d forced out of bed to serve me a dose of numbness. “Have Pipo bring my brother here,” I ordered, before standing and grabbing his collar over the counter and bringing him a whisper away from my face. “No word to anyone else.”

The man nodded and scurried out back.

Half a bottle down, Toni sauntered into the place, his steps steady and self-assured. That had always been his way. If not for that fucker holding us down, he’d be the next in line to become Don of the Moretti famiglia. I could see that now. Toni deserved it, and more than any other member, he had the wit, brains and balls for it.

Bile rose to my mouth at the thought of the allegiance we pledged to the same fucker who murdered our parents. I tossed another glass of whiskey down my throat, forcing the acid back to where it belongs.

“Shit-faced before noon. That must be some kind of new record, Carlo.”

“Shut the fuck up and drink. You’re gonna need it.”

Toni furrowed his brows and took the glass I had filled for him, tipping it back and holding out on the questions I was sure flooded his brain.

“I married Elena Battaglia last night,” I blurted in a monotone as if it wasn’t a self detonating bomb.

“You did WHAT?” He shouted, not restraining his shock.

“That’s just the introduction,” I said, twirling the ring on my finger and feeling every bit like the piece of shit I am. “I went to meet my dearest father-in-law this morning, hoping to put a bullet through his skull or ruin his legacy by pissing all over his plans to keep the Battaglia name alive.”

“I’m guessing you did neither.”

“You know me too well, Brother.” I said, sarcasm dripping onto my words before tossing back another glass of whiskey.

“Am I supposed to guess what happened or are you gonna start talking?”

I kept my eyes trained on the tumbler in my hand, trying to find the right words in the booze that had done absolutely nothing to tame the beast inside me. There weren’t any. Every word swamping my brain was wrong. At least, that was what we’d been brainwashed to think.

“Don Battaglia said Moretti killed mom and dad.” I started without giving myself a chance to think it over anymore. “That our father was a Battaglia sottocapo infiltrating the enemy for tactical advantage. When Moretti found out, he burned the house down with them inside,” I explained, my thumb rotating my wedding ring on my finger again. “He knew things. About us. He let me walk away to confirm his words without turning me into a strainer.”

I dared a glance towards my brother. He gripped the counter and slowly sat down on the bench beside me as if his legs couldn’t hold him up anymore.

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