How the hell did that happen? What was the story behind it?
A top position like that had too much power to just be easily given. The Capo dei Capi held the final say in all matters, from business dealings to territorial disputes and even life-or-death decisions within the organization.
Full dominion over all the families.
Ultimate control.
I gazed around.
Yes. It’s him now.
There was even the way the room itself seemed to respond to him. The soft murmur of conversation, the gentle clinking of cutlery. It all took on a respectful hush whenever Gianni spoke as if not one person wanted to miss his words.
Yes. This is the eye of the storm. I just have to figure out the best way to survive in this marriage.
I gazed down at my bandaged palm where the priest had cut me.
The sharp pang of the wound had dulled to a soft throb,
Bound by blood.
I thought back to the moment when the doctor had tried to cover Gianni’s cut with a bandage, only for Gianni to refuse. He had insisted, with an intensity that made my heart race. “No. I want to see the mark of my bond with my wife all night. In fact, I hope this cut never heals.”
The simple poetry of his statement had resonated in a way I hadn’t expected.
I’m going to make the best of this.
I’d been around the Italian Mob enough to know that to survive with a man like him, it required more than just adapting to his chaos—one needed to understand the nature of the storm itself.
Recognize the patterns of power and influence that defined him.
Learn to read the signs of his favor and discontent, while finding ways to navigate the turbulent waters of his control.
We’ll see if I can truly do this.
Minutes into the reception, guests began coming over carrying gifts wrapped in the finest materials—from sleek velvet to glossy silk.
I assessed each guest and was shocked how I’d easily slipped right back into this life, easily figuring out whether the guest was a made man, high-ranking associate, soldier, or a distant ally.
Many of theCaporegimesrushed forward first with gifts. This position typically meant theCapowas a made man.
They stood a little closer to Gianni, and when he spoke, they listened like every word was law. They responded too, bringing up family business stuff—street management, complaints about another crew.
This wasn’t the behavior of a soldier.
Their suits were tailored to perfection, but less flashy than Gianni’s tuxedo—smart, clean, and practical, as if they were ready for a meeting or a murder at any moment.
And Gianni listened to them when they talked, which definitely pointed to their higher status.
Soldatoscame up to us too.
For me, soldiers had always been the easiest to spot. They never sat in the front row of any event. They almost always hovered around the edges of the room like bodyguards, scanning every corner, every movement.
Tonight, they were dressed well enough for a wedding, but their clothes weren’t as polished as the Capos ranked above them. Here, there were more rough edges, visible scars, and tons of tattoos peeking out from under their cuffs.
They didn’t smile much, if at all.
They were the enforcers—the muscle.
