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I wasn't a good man. Not by society standards, and certainly not by the bare minimum. When people heard my name—Enzo Santini—it wrought fear and respect.
I did horrible, violent things, all in the name of power, all because I was the Capo of the Los Angeles Italian crime syndicate known as The Family.
The mafia.
But because of my status, the next step for me should’ve been to get a wife and produce heirs. It's what the men in my world did to secure even more power, to be stronger. But I’d never had the need to do what was expected of me. And listening to others had never been who or what I was. It was one of the reasons I was as powerful as I was.
But the first time I saw Bianca Alfonso, the gorgeous and curvy secretary for Seeking Curves—the matchmaking company The Family had a business hand in—I knew one thing for certain.
She’d be mine.
I’d never wanted anyone or anything as much as I did Bianca. And if I were a man who experienced fear, my bone-deep need to claim her would have scared the hell out of me.
Bianca didn’t know it yet, but I’d make her mine, and not just for one night.
Because I wanted her as my wife and the mother of my children.
ChapterOne
Enzo
“You need a woman in your life. And children, lots of heirs.”
My mother’s words were like a broken record every time I came over for Sunday dinner.
“Do I?” I reached across the table and grabbed the bottle of red wine, poured myself a generous amount, then leaned back and stared at my younger brother, Paolo. Of course the little asshole had a smirk on his face but refused to look me in the eye. “Maybe you should urge Paolo to get with someone, Ma.” I took a hearty sip from the wine glass and heard my mother scoff.
“As Capo, you need a wife and heir. You know this.” She grabbed her own glass and took a long sip.
My mother was the only person who dared speak to me in such a way.
My name, Enzo Santini, had enough power behind it to invoke fear just by hearing it.
Everyone else was too fucking afraid I’d slit their throat when they slept. They’d be wrong, of course. I’d slit it while they were awake and I stared into their eyes.
“Besides, your brother is too young.”
Paolo made a sound of disagreement. But I had to agree with her. At only seventeen, he barely knew his dick from his balls, let alone how to be a husband.
“Besides, you know he has to focus on learning the family business. He needs to work on building his name up within the families before he settles down.”
Family business.
That’s what everyone in our circle called what we did.Whowe were.
Everyone else had a few different names for us. The mafia. Cosa Nostra. The mob. Then there were a handful of other terms the media and rumors had come up with over the centuries. But they all meant the same thing, and they were all true.
But we just called ourselves The Family when we were together. Because that’s what we were—blood relatives or not, we were all connected and forever would be until we died.
Being born into a traditional Sicilian family, being brought up in the world of a crime syndicate, meant I was expected to be a certain way, be a certain person.
And after my father was killed a decade ago, I had to grow up even faster… be the head of the household, the man who took care of things and provided for his family.
And it shaped me into the man I was today.
