Obsessed with His Bride

by Hamel, B. B.

  I sat back down on the couch and turned the TV on, but couldn’t bring myself to actually watch it. After a few minutes of mindless staring at the screen, I heard the door open and someone step inside. I looked over the back of the couch, figuring it was Gino coming in for some sugar or something for his tea, but instead an older gentleman in a sweater and a button-down shirt came hobbling into the room, leaning on a cane.

  I stood up, surprised. The old man smiled at me. He had a wrinkled face, large nose, drooping earlobes, and short gray hair. His sweater vest and shirt looked nice and clean, but old and worn. His slacks were loose, and he was about my height, thought stooped with age.

  “Hello,” I say. “Ah, I’m sorry. Are you looking for Dante?”

  He smiled. “I might be. And who are you?”

  “Aida,” I said, coming around the couch.

  “Nice to meet you, Aida,” he said, but didn’t mention his name.

  “Dante isn’t here right now. Did you see the man out front? Gino? Do you know Gino?”

  He waved a hand. “I know Gino,” he said. “I’ve seen him around. He said you might offer me some tea if I came inside.”

  I frowned a little and my eyes flicked over to the hallway. But Gino was still outside, which I found strange. This man must be some local neighborhood guy, and Gino figured I could use a little company.

  “Of course,” I say, gesturing at the table. “Take a seat, I’ll make you some. Black tea? Milk or sugar?”

  “Black would be nice,” he said and sat with a sigh. “Just a splash of milk, please.”

  I reheated the water, poured it into a mug, and dropped the teabag in. I let it steep for a moment before adding some milk, stirring, and bringing it over on a small plate.

  “Thank you,” he said. “But a little tip for next time. Don’t reheat the old water. Fresh water is always the way to go.”

  I blushed a little. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

  “It’s okay,” he said and smiled again. He did have a charming, confident smile, like a gentle grandfather. “So, Aida, sit down. Tell me how you know Dante.”

  I took a seat across from him. “We met recently,” I said, trying to keep it vague. “He, ah, he knew my father. And I’m staying with him for a while now.”

  “Your father,” the man mused. “How did Dante know your father?”

  “Business,” I said.

  He nodded. “I see.”

  “And are you from around here?”

  “Something like that.” He took out his teabag and sipped his drink. He smiled and nodded. “Very nice, thank you for this.”

  “Of course.” I tilted my head at him as he leaned back in his chair. “Do you visit with Dante often?”

  “Not as often as I should,” he said. “Dante is very… independent. He doesn’t like having anyone underfoot.”

  I snorted. “That hasn’t been my experience.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

  “He likes to keep me close,” I said, although I wasn’t sure why I was telling this man about it. “Maybe a little too close.”

  The man laughed and seemed delighted. “That just means he likes you, my dear,” he said. “I’ll be honest and say, I’ve known Dante for some time, and I’ve never known him to keep a woman around for long.”

  I smiled a little. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

  “So consider yourself lucky.”

  “I suppose I will.” I leaned toward him. “I’m sorry, I just realized I never got your name.”

  “Luciano,” he said, and the name registered somewhere in my brain, but I couldn’t quite place it. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

  “How long have you known Dante?”

  “Years,” he said. “Years and years. I remember when he was a very young man.”

  “Really? What was he like?”

  “Oh, headstrong,” Luciano said and laughed. “Aggressive. Smart. Incredibly rude.”

  I grinned. “I can see all that.”

  “The rudeness he grew out of, for the most part. But everything else?” He gestured, waving a hand. “Not so much. But he’s loyal and good to his people. Have you asked Gino out there much about his boss?”

  “No,” I admitted. “Gino doesn’t seem like he wants to talk to me.”

  “Don’t take it personally. Gino never wants to talk to anyone.” Luciano laughed and sipped his tea. “Ask him about Dante sometime, though. Gino has an interesting story about his boss.”

  “I will.” I frowned at him and tilted my head. “How did you know that Gino worked for Dante?”

  Luciano smiled at me and shrugged. “Oh, just an educated guess, my dear.” He shifted in his seat and checked his watch. “I believe Dante is on his way as we speak, so if you want to ask any more about that man as a youth, you’d better ask now.”

  My frown deepened. That name was still bugging me, and the way he spoke about Gino and Dante like he knew all about their lives as Mafia men was starting to bug me. This man wasn’t what he appeared, but I didn’t understand who he was, or what he was doing in Dante’s house.

  But my curiosity got the better of me. “You said he hasn’t kept any women around. Does that mean he’s never had a girlfriend?”

  Luciano laughed and absently swirled his tea. “Not a girlfriend in the way you mean, no, although I suspect he’s had plenty of opportunities. Dante has been very popular for many years now.”

  “I wish I knew more to ask you,” I admitted. “Would you tell me a story from when he was younger? Something I can use against him.”

  Luciano grinned at me and leaned closer. “Something embarrassing then?”

  “If you wouldn’t mind. Nothing too bad, but he holds all the cards here… and it would be nice to have a little something to throw back at him.”

  Luciano gave me a long, appraising look. “Smart girl,” he said. “All right then. I have a story that I know he wouldn’t want me telling.”

  “I’m all ears.” I leaned closer and felt a little flutter in my heart.

  “When Dante was a boy, maybe fifteen years old, he decided that he wanted to be a tough guy. He was tough back then, don’t misunderstand me, but Dante believed he was something more than just a fifteen-year-old punk. So one day, he decided he was going to steal from the police station.”

  I laughed and shook my head. “No way.”

  “Yes, yes way. There’s a police station near Fairmount, right behind a Wawa, and it was his intention to rob that place.”

  “What was he thinking?”

  Luciano spread his hands. “Truth be told, I don’t know. He must have had some kind of plan, because he seemed so confident when he told me the story later. But at the time, I thought the fool boy was insane.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Apparently, he stood outside of the precinct until some police came out. As the door was closing, he slipped inside. How he even made it that far, I’ll never know, but he made it into the building and began to walk the halls. At first, nobody stopped him, probably assumed that he was someone else’s responsibility. He somehow found an unlocked office, stepped inside, and proceeded to take several pens and notebooks from the bottom drawer of the desk, all with official Philadelphia Police seals on them.”

  “You’re lying,” I said, laughing. “No way. That’s insane.”

  “It is. He says he made it about halfway out of the office before someone stopped him. He was arrested on the spot and the cops threw the book at him, I think out of embarrassment more than anything else. Well, word reached me that a young, interesting up-and-coming solider had been arrested for trying to rob a police precinct, and I couldn’t help but use some of my influence to get his sentence reduced. I paid his bail, got them to give him community service, and brought the boy into the fold after that.”

  I stared at Luciano for a long moment. “You… got his charges dropped?” I frowned a little. “And brought him into the fold?”

  The name was s
till swirling in my head as I stared at the man. He grinned at me ear to ear and sipped his tea as the front door opened. I heard three pairs of footsteps come stomping back into the room. Dante stormed in first followed by Steven and Gino. All three men looked anxious, and Dante immediately knelt down in front of Luciano and took the man’s hand into his own.

  “Don Leone,” he said. “I’m so sorry to make you wait. Gino told me you had arrived and I hurried here as fast as I could.”

  I gaped in horror as the truth hit me like a stone.

  Don Leone.

  I’d just been sitting and having tea with the head of the Leone Crime Family. Luciano Leone looked like any other old Italian man, and I’d simply assumed he was from the neighborhood, or maybe some childhood friend of Dante’s. It never occurred to me that he could’ve been the head of the family, but looking back, I should’ve seen something right away.

  “Nonsense,” Don Leone said. “I was just having tea with this nice young lady.”

  I gaped at them as Dante turned his head toward me. “You were on your best behavior, I hope.”

  “I… I was… I didn’t know he was…” I stared as Don Leone began to laugh and Dante frowned at me.

  “It’s okay,” Don Leone said. “There’s no way she could’ve recognized me, Dante.”

  “I hope she was polite regardless.”

  “Oh, she was. I told her the story about your little foray into burglary from when you were a boy.”

  Date winced. “You don’t need to always tell that story.”

  “But I love it so much, Dante. And to think you nearly got away with it.” Don Leone extracted his hands and patted Dante on the cheek. Dante grimaced and sat down at the table, nodding at Steven and Gino. The two men took positions at the edges of the room and Dante leaned toward Don Leone.

  I could see the tension in Dante clear as day. He was worried, and I’d bet anything that a visit from the Don of his family to his private home wasn’t a normal thing.

  “Don Leone, what can I do for you today?” Dante asked.

  Don Leone sighed and smiled like he wished they could go back to talking about the old days. “You know why I’m here,” he said.

  “I believe so, yes.”

  “Word has reached me about your meeting with Vlas.”

  “I hoped it would, sir.”

  Don Leone studied Dante and his face slowly fell from the kindly grandfather and transformed into something harder. In that moment, I saw the mobster hidden beneath the kindly exterior, and I realized why Don Leone was the head of the family. He was a chameleon, capable of shifting his shape and changing his true colors. One moment, he was gentle and laughing, and the next he was diamond hard and razor sharp, a force to be feared.

  “Vlas didn’t give you much choice in the matter, did he?” Don Leone said with a sigh.

  “He didn’t, sir,” Dante said.

  “I was told his demands were simple. He wanted the girl in recompense.” Don Leone’s eyes flashed to mine then back to Dante. “And yet here she is, still in your home.”

  “I wouldn’t give him anything,” Dante said. “I’ve given him enough. Any more would be weak.”

  “I agree,” Don Leone said. “And yet, you’re willing to kill over this girl?”

  Dante looked at me and I wished I could shrink away and disappear. The men were talking about me like I didn’t exist anymore, though Dante’s eyes on mine made a spark come to life in my chest.

  “I would,” he said. “I’ve come to value her, Don Leone.”

  “Ah,” Don Leone said, but didn’t look at me. “Value her. That’s an interesting choice of words. You wouldn’t say that you love her?”

  Dante tensed then shook his head. “She was my prize from her father. He used her as a bargaining chip to try and sway my hand.”

  “Didn’t work, did it?” Don Leone smiled and shook his head. “And so you refuse to do the same thing her father did, I suppose.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dante’s jaw tensed. “I have lines.”

  “I know all about your lines, Dante.” Don Leone shook his head and sipped his tea. He was silent for a long moment and I could sense the tension rolling off Dante in waves. I realized that he didn’t know how his boss would react to how the meeting went, and he was afraid that the Don would disapprove. I didn’t know what Dante could do if the Don told him to go back and give me to Vlas, and I didn’t want to think about it.

  “Very well,” Don Leone said at last. “I believe you did what was necessary. You gave Vlas the traitor thief and returned his money. You apologized and went to a meeting on his terms. And yet he demands more, which is unacceptable. I agree, giving in would be a show of weakness, and I will not have weakness from one of my best Capos.”

  “Yes, sir.” Dante inclined his head and his eyes were burning with an interesting passion and rage.

  Don Leone pushed his chair back. Dante helped the man stand, though I didn’t think he needed it. Don Leone looked at his Capo for a long moment before shaking his head. “I’ll approve of this war for now,” he said. “Do what you believe needs doing. I will deal with that fool Maksim. The old pig can’t allow his son to run wild, no matter what he might think, the boy doesn’t own this city.”

  “I agree, sir,” Dante said. “How should I handle it?”

  “As I said, however you see fit. Try not to kill Vlas, but if you have to use violence against some of his men, then so be it.”

  A strange look flashed across Dante’s face. It was half excitement, half anger. He wanted to hurt some of those bastards, but he clearly resented the Don stopping him from going after Vlas directly.

  “Thank you, sir,” he said.

  Don Leone patted Dante’s arm. He took up his cane and the two of them moved to the door. They reached the hallway before Don Leone paused and looked back at me.

  “It was lovely meeting you, dear,” he said. “I can see what Dante sees in you. Perhaps you’re worth a war, or perhaps not. I suppose time will tell.” He turned and began to walk again. Dante didn’t look to me, only moved along with his Don in silence.

  I sat back in my chair and stared at the table for a long moment without speaking. Steven walked past me and followed Dante and Don Leone outside. Gino lingered near the table then gave me a smile.

  “Sorry,” he said, his voice soft. “I should’ve warned you.”

  I smiled back and shook my head. “I should’ve figured it out.”

  “Don Leone doesn’t look like what you’d expect. But that man is something else. Don’t let him trick you.”

  I nodded a little and he nodded back before heading down the hall, following the others.

  I sat there for another moment before getting up, walking over to the abandoned teacup, and taking it over to the sink. I rinsed it, put it into the dishwasher, then stared at my hands.

  The idea that I could be worth going to war over…

  It made my heart beat hard in my chest.

  I didn’t want war. Nobody had to die on my account. My father already lost his life, and the idea that Dante might put himself or any of his men in danger for me made me want to vomit in my mouth. I hated the position they were putting me in, like I was some object they had to guard at all costs.

  But I didn’t know what else to do. Because in the end, Dante thought I was worth it, and I didn’t think I could change his mind.

  Or if I really wanted to.

  11

  Dante

  There was a light drizzle as I leaned back into the leather seat of my SUV. Steven sat behind the wheel, his gun in his lap, frowning down the block. Ryan and Biagio sat quietly in the back seat, not speaking with each other, just staring out the window.

  I watched water trickle past in the gutter, running over trash and half-chewed gum before disappearing down a storm drain. Nobody moved on the sidewalks, though the neon-colored signs of the bars on this block still glowed, despite it being past one in the morning. I could taste the storm and my blood pumpe
d excitement with each heavy beat of my heart.

  “They ready?” I asked Steven.

  He nodded. “Parked a half hour ago.”

  “Good.” I lifted my own weapon, a simple Glock, dependable and efficient. I checked the slide, made sure the magazine was full, and leaned against the window. “Shit night for it.”

  “Or a good night, depending on how you see it.”

  I grunted a little and shrugged. We were on some beat-up block in South Philly on the edge of my territory, just over the dividing line. There were crumbling, boarded-up houses on the left, brick fronts and gray concrete stoops leading to red doors. On the right were shops, some closed, but most full. There were a couple of restaurants, one Mexican place that was open late, one coffee joint that’d been closed for hours, and a few bars stretching down to the corner. Drunk college kids liked to come around here and wander from the Mexican place into one of the dives a few doors down, but it looked like nobody wanted to be out in the rain, which was a blessing in some ways.

  I watched the door of our target without a word. The sign read MAXI BAR in bright red neon, though the windows were papered over with black and a lone bouncer sat out in front of the door. He looked bored and kept checking his phone, like he didn’t expect much to happen. He hadn’t noticed us, not in the hour we’d been sitting in the car, just waiting.

  “Make the call,” I said.

  Steven nodded, picked up his phone. He tapped the screen and the phone rang. Someone answered on the other side. “We’re going,” he said then hung up.

  I watched out the window for a long moment until I saw a black truck parked at the far end of the block open up. Four men spilled out wearing dark jackets and hooded sweatshirts, their hoods pulled up. I looked at Steven and nodded.

  “Come on,” I grunted, and opened the door.

  The others followed. Steven first, then Ryan and Biagio. I took point, walking fast. I knew two more guys were in the alley behind the club, posted up there in case shit went bad.