Page 14 of Unholy Union
“It’s good you have your head screwed on straight. Remember: don’t let her distract you. Even the greatest men have met their downfall when they started thinking with the wrong head.”
I release a short, dismissive laugh. I’ve moved on from fixing my bowtie to adjusting my cufflinks. “When have I ever been distracted by women? You’re thinking of Cassian.”
“Sabrina Corsini is a beautiful woman. As beautiful as your mother was. As beautiful ashermother was. Beautiful women are nice to look at. But they can also be the deadliest creatures on this earth. Not only that, she’s the daughter of the don. Rinaldo goes on and on about how pure and innocent she is. But make no mistake, even the most innocent mafia daughters are kittens with claws. Don’t underestimate her.”
They’re his parting words as he turns and walks out.
I offer no response. Mostly because… he’s right.
Sabrina Corsini is a kitten. And shedoeshave some claws.
I was given a sneak peek of them the other night at our engagement dinner. The prized princess daughter of Rinaldo Corsini sat perfectly prim and silent the whole night, then themoment I confronted her on the terrace, she was all fire and passion.
The look of determination burning in her gaze was damn sure enough to pique my interest. She glared at me with the kind of white-hot loathing you’d expect from your worst enemy.
And that is exactly what she is.
Sheismy enemy. My enemy, my wife.
I scoff in amusement as I stare in the mirror and fasten my cufflinks.
Cassian appears in the doorway, scrapping his knuckles against the frame. “Knock, knock. Here to remind you it’s not too late to flee the country, brother.”
He steps into the room, followed quickly by Lazaro Zanetti, my right-hand and enforcer. My younger brother’s all casual indifference, wearing his tux like he’s modeling for a Ralph Lauren advertisement, as he strolls inside and heads straight for the minibar. Lazaro’s the opposite—he’s silent and dutiful as he strides into the room and goes to the window, peering at the endless rows of cars arriving outside the cathedral.
I’ve known Lazaro since grade school. He was orphaned at a young age, growing up dirt poor in the system. But he’s always had guts, always had grit about him that I’ve respected. He’s the silent and stoic type, who creeps most people out as he lurks and keeps to the edges of each room. That’s part of what makes him such a good enforcer in my crew.
The other part being that the fucker easily clears 6’5” and is built like a weapon. He sports a dozen different scars in very visible places like his face, his neck, his arms. None of which he gives a shit about.
He lives for the bloodshed and violence our lifestyle gives him.
Cassian pops the bottle of champagne at the minibar and pours himself a generous glass. “Was that Papà I saw coming out this room? He looked chipper.”
“He came by to give a small reminder,” I say, turning away from the mirror.
“About what? Smile for your wedding photos?” He downs his first glass and immediately goes for seconds.
I stride over and reach for something harder—the decanter of bourbon that’s sitting right next to it.
“He wanted to remind me not to get distracted. This arrangement is to advance the Valentes and no one else.”
“You mean distracted by falling in love?” Cassian lets out a howl of laughter like I’ve told a joke. “Big brother, you’re a carbon copy of our father. Who has never loved anyone on this earth. Including us. And Mama.”
“Love means nothing,” I answer coldly, pouring a glass of bourbon over ice. “Loyalty and prosperity are what matter. We need to go into this aware of how we’ll use the new perks made available to us.”
Cassian keeps the champagne bottle as he wanders over to the sofa and throws himself down. Lazaro has finally looked away from the window, his attention drawn back to us.
I sip from my glass of bourbon and decide how best to present our plan moving forward. Papà and I have discussed it ad nauseam, but Cassian and Lazaro weren’t part of those discussions.
As far as they know—and everyone else except a select few others like Sergio De Rossi—the reason the Valentes agreed to this arranged marriage is to end the feud between our families. I’m marrying Sabrina Corsini to ensure a period of peace lies ahead for us all.
The real truth is, the Valentes have made this blood pact with the Corsinis for access to some of their resources.
Every mafia family has what’s known as their “front” business. The legal business they use to legitimize themselves and wash not-so-legal money through. Many families choose something that’s cash-heavy to make it easier for the money to disappear.
Some, like the Spanos, another one of the Five Families, open a chain of car washes. Others, like the Corsinis, opt for construction.
The Valentes have been in the business of international trade. Importing and exporting high-priced luxury goods under the company Valente Luxura. We have warehouses at international ports across the globe—everywhere from Hong Kong to Naples and Dubai.
