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After the whole shitshow with Rita, I’d swore I’d never get involved with another woman again.
“You’re barely coping with looking after the kids,” Marco added, not letting this topic go.
Normally, I would do anything for my Capo, but when shit like this came up and people started interfering in my personal life, then I started to feel resentful.
Weariness suddenly consumed me. My role as an Underboss was demanding and left little time for child-rearing. Perhaps Marco was right? If the girl was my wife, she would have to submit to me and obey me.
“Maybe the girl wouldn’t be too bad as a wife,” I said thoughtfully. “She’s probably the way she is due to a lack of discipline from her parents. Her father didn’t even seem that angry with her for shooting at me—I mean, what the fuck?”
“There’s the wellbeing of the alliance to consider,” Marco carried on. The Fratellanza’s interests were mainly in the drug trade, laundering the dirty money through our legitimate businesses of hotels and clubs, the net result being that we had become extremely wealthy. “There’s always someone trying to muscle into our territory, and currently that someone is the Bratva, which means that our alliance with the Imperiosi is crucial because it will unite our organizations against our common enemy.”
We talked about this some more, although I still wasn’t entirely convinced. We returned to Napoleone to discuss the matter further, however, with the critical aim of preserving our fledgling alliance with the Imperiosi.
***
As we talked some more in the study about the possibility of a marriage union, Mrs. Veneti came in with a tray of coffee.
“She’s not old enough to marry,” I said. “She still wears her hair in pigtails.”
“They’re not pigtails,” the girl interrupted. “They’re French braids.” She continued standing at her father’s side. I wasn’t sure why she was still even here—this matter was between her father and the Fratellanza.
Her response riled me further. “The girl is completely out of control,” I gritted out. “No girl in my family would dare shoot a gun at a Made Man.”
Mrs. Veneti interrupted. “It was the shock—you know, of having a weapon aimed at her. She was staring down the barrel of a gun. Annunciata is the sweetest, most obedient girl you could ever meet—an absolute angel.”
The way her mother spoke, anyone would think that the girl spent all her spare time polishing a halo.
As Mrs. Veneti batted her fake eyelashes at me, I wondered if I had judged the girl too harshly. Ihadprobably scared her when I pulled my gun on her. If Mrs. Veneti was saying that her daughter was obedient, then I knew I could take her word for it—after all, I knew that Mrs. Veneti wouldn’t lie to me, especially not in the presence of her husband.
“She’s still a teenager,” I observed. The obvious age gap between us was a concern for me.
“Annunciata turned twenty last week,” announced her mother, as if one week made a world of difference.
“Papà, I don’t want to get married,” interjected the girl.
“Anni, dear, you’ve always known that you would have an arranged marriage,” Napoleone responded in a soothing voice. “It’s just come a little sooner than expected. You are of age now, and he will make a good husband.”
Why the fuck was he talking to her in such an appeasing tone, as if he were trying topersuadeher to marry me?
He should be commanding his daughter to do her duty, not pussyfooting around her sensitivities. No wonder she was so out of control—she was spoiled and her parents pandered to her whims.
“Is she good with children?” My tone was terse. “I have a four-year-old girl and a two-year-old boy who will need looking after.”
“Our daughter has a compassionate personality,” replied Mrs. Veneti. “Annunciata is the most nurturing person you’ll ever meet.”
I looked the girl over. With her blonde hair and eyes that sparkled like emeralds, she was pretty in her own way. I liked that she didn’t have that overtly flirtatious manner that many young girls from Mafia families adopted when they were looking to snare a husband, although I wasn’t sure I liked her feistiness.
She just needed someone to take control of her, I told myself. As my wife, she would no longer have time to waste on doing irresponsible things like shooting guns and wearing stupid dress-up costumes.
And Marco was right—I needed to remarry at some point so that my children would have a mother figure in their lives. And this was particularly important given how much the kids were currently struggling, especially Clara. If I needed to remarry, I might as well marry someone who looked vaguely attractive. “Very well. I will marry her.”
Everyone gave a sigh of relief. The marriage would avert a war breaking out between our organizations, and our alliance could continue intact.
“My daughter is going to be married!” shrieked Mrs. Veneti. “We should set the wedding date today.”
“There’s no rush for that, Mrs. Veneti—” I began.
“You’re part of the family now. You’re to call meMaVeneti—I insist!”
