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"Guess they never grew up, unlike you, Mika," Massimo smirks, "though I can't help but think that London’s polluted air got to you. Maybe that's why you decided to get married?"
"You may have a point, " Christian turns to Massimo. "Think we need to call the doctor to have him checked out?"
"Fuck off,testa di cazzo," I growl.
"Oooh," Christian mock shivers, "I am so afraid."
"I am your Capo, dumbass," I say mildly, "better show me some respect, or I’ll be asking for your pinky finger next."
"Sometimes," Luca sighs, "you sound like an actor from a bad Hollywood Mafia movie."
"I don’t watch movies."
"More’s the pity." He looks me up and down, "If you did, you’d know that your story has the makings of a chick flick."
"A chick flick?"
"A romantic comedy," he clarifies, "where the hero and the heroine meet and are attracted to each other, only to realize—"
"I know what a romantic comedy is," I say dryly.
"Do you now?" Christian pretends to do a double take. "Next you’ll be telling me that you are in love."
I laugh, "Good one." I smirk. "I see you’ve been polishing up your comedic skills."
"And you’re going to have to polish up your role as a husband."
"Only until I get an heir." I raise a shoulder.
"Surely, there are fringe benefits," Xander murmurs. "Who’s the lucky woman, by the way?"
"Someone none of you know."
"Fantastico." Christian rubs his hands, "Is she so beautiful that you don’t want us to meet her before the wedding?"
"Yes, she is, and no, that’s not the reason I don’t want you to meet her before the big day. It’s purely because she is currently unaware that’s the plan I have in store for her."
"So, you what, kidnapped her?" He fixes me with his shrewd gaze, "What else are you not telling us, Michael?"
"I am telling you everything you need to know at this stage."
"You know that, as your lawyer, I do need to know everything, if I am supposed to help you on this in the future.”
"And what makes you think I will be needing your help on this?"
He laughs, "You and I both know that almost everything you do needs my expert touch to steer it along at some point."
"Don’t remind me." I scowl.
"Not that I am not grateful for it."
"You better be." I glower at all three of my younger siblings, "It’s why I gave you three roles in which you didn’t have to get your hands dirty." Massimo’s my lawyer, Christian takes care of our finances, and Alessandro? He’s the artist among us. My youngest brother—he's younger than Christian by two minutes, has the softest heart, the face of a fallen angel, and the talent of a Renaissance artist.
The joke among us growing up had been that he should have been called Michaelangelo, not me—the oldest, the most cynical brother, on whom the responsibility falls to keep the family business going. One way or the other, though, all of us have our lives intertwined with the firm. Once you’re born into a Mafia family, really, there’s no way out, particularly for the males. Even if you are as prodigiously talented as Xander, who paints masterpieces... We use his growing fame in the art world to identify potential new targets we can kidnap and hold for ransom in return, not for money—that would be too crass—but for influence, power, and the ability to infiltrate governments and those in the higher echelons of power. It had long ago ceased to be about wealth. Our focus now is to build up our network, to ensure we have the means to influence governments and heads of organizations.
"And I, for one, am grateful that I don’t need to be directly involved with the day-to-day business," Massimo murmurs.
"Enough to back me up in what I am going to say next?”
