Reign Of Pride (Dark Reign Book 1)

by A. G. Kirkham

  Honestly, Nero just infuriates me. He expects me to run around, asking his permission before having a conversation. Well, that’s not going to happen. I do agree with him that our private time together remains that way, but I’m not going to say that my husband says I can’t talk about something if I want to. That’s just ridiculous.

  It’s like he’s two separate people. Last night, he was careful with me. Patient. This morning, we did other stuff, really hot other stuff, I might add, but he was still tender with my inexperience. Then we get into the car and he becomes a totally different person.

  I understand that he is the next don. I get it. My father had drilled it into me as soon as our engagement was announced: “Learn to read him, Felicia, become the wife he needs by his side.” I get it. But does that mean that I am to be treated as anything less than his wife?

  No. That’s not what I signed on for. I am aware of my duties, my mother made this perfectly clear. That does not mean that I don’t get a say in our marriage. If he thinks this is the end to our discussion, he has another thing coming.

  We make our way through the door to find Gloria waiting for us, then she pulls me into an embrace.

  “Ciao, mia nuora,”

  “Good morning, Mrs. Moretti.” I walk into her open arms and kiss her on both cheeks.

  “Sweet girl, I think that you should call me Mamma at the very least,” she replies. It is customary to call our in-laws Mom and Dad as well as our own parents, and while I’m not comfortable with that, using the Italian word will work. She looks at Nero. “Buongiorno, mio figlio.” She offers her cheek. “A son kisses his mother when he enters.” Her eyes twinkle.

  “A mother lets him fully come into the room before insisting on her kiss,” Nero retorts with a gleam in his eyes, then bends down to kiss her.

  “The rest of the family is in the dining room for brunch. Sara has made your favorites. And I asked your mother what you like, Felicia, so we have that as well. Come.” My mother-in-law is a perfect hostess. Her classic elegance shines through, but so does her big heart for taking my preferences into consideration.

  As she leads us to the dining area, Nero places a hand on my lower back. I shiver—had I known what his touch could do to me, I don’t know that I would have had the patience to wait until our wedding night.

  My husband. This man is my husband. For the rest of my life, I will belong to him. And he to me.

  But… will he? Regardless of my virgin state last night, I’m no innocent. I know the ways of many men in La Famiglia… will Nero be like them and leave me to visit someone else?

  I take in the grand chandelier with thousands of decorative crystals in a magical pattern, reminding me of stars in the sky, with the sun shining in through the large windows. I bet it is even more beautiful in the evening when lit. Gloria certainly has a penchant for the finer things.

  My parents meet me at the entrance to the dining room. Mom scans me up and down then pulls me in for a tight hug.

  “Amore, please release my daughter so I can have a turn. It’s only been one day since she’s been away; anyone would think you haven’t seen her in years,” Dad says with a laugh.

  “Do not tease me, Mario. My baby is now married and has left our home,” she cries.

  “Yes, yes, Teresa, I know. But who will go shopping with you now?” Dad teases.

  I chuckle and extricate myself from Mom’s arms to give my father a hug. After which, Nero shakes Dad’s hand and they commence a conversation about an upcoming meeting. Emiliano takes advantage of this opportunity to slide his hand into mine. At twelve, he is certainly tall. He is also at the gawky stage where his legs are too long, while he tries to grow into his body. Emiliano has always been affectionate with me, but I can see that he has been instructed to hold himself in check as he is becoming a young man and he needs to assert his control as all the men in La Famiglia must. I wrap my arms around his waist and whisper, “I miss you so much, too. I’m going to ask Nero if you can visit me for a few days after we are settled in.”

  He squeezes me tight for a brief moment before letting go. The little boy I chased around the house is not a little boy any longer. He is growing into a man, my baby brother.

  “Let’s not keep them waiting, Felicia. I’m sure my father is dying for his breakfast frittata,” Nero says as he puts a hand under my elbow, leading me toward some amazing-smelling food.

  Don Moretti is waiting for us by the large windows in the room that illuminate a grand table covered with a variety of delicious options. Nero approaches his father, giving a slight nod, then releases me to embrace his father. Nero’s dad then turns to me and opens his arms. I walk into them.

  “I trust that the newlyweds are well.” He beams.

  “Yes, sir,” I answer.

  “Good, good. Then we can eat. I’m famished,” he chuckles.

  We take our places at the table. Mom sits next to me and chats non-stop about the wedding and the compliments she received, as gossip about who was wearing what, and who was dancing or not dancing with whomever, filters through the room. This is one thing I have detested in our way of life. I mean, who cares? If someone’s wearing a dress they like, what business is it of anyone’s? Yet, it seems like many of our older women take great pleasure in this.

  As the food is being passed around, I help myself to a few brie puffs, a sliver of frittata, and some fresh berries. I have been nervous since we were in the car and it seems that my appetite has not yet caught up to me. My new mother-in-law sees my near-empty plate and walks over to fill it with a croissant, bacon, smoked salmon, and cream cheese. I can’t possibly eat all of this. My stomach is full, and I’m already having a hard time eating what I’ve selected. I look at Nero beside me; he must have felt my gaze as he meets my eyes.

  “I can’t possibly eat all of this,” I say under my breath, getting Nero’s attention.

  “Eat what you can and leave the rest,” he placates.

  “It will be an insult if I don’t eat what your mother put on my plate,” I hiss.

  “She won’t even notice, Felicia,”

  “She will and she’ll hate me,”

  Nero looks me over and catches my hand under the table.

  “I will take care of you, dolce mio,” he whispers. He then proceeds to spear a slice of bacon and takes a bite. He does this throughout the meal while chatting up the aunts and uncles at the table until my plate is clean.

  After the meal, the men head to Don Moretti’s study to discuss business and I’m left with all the married women with Grazia by my side. My aunts and Nero’s too all seem to want to turn me into their Italian version of a Stepford wife, with all their “Nero would appreciate this” or “If I were you, I would do that’s”. Geez, what century are these women living in? To hear them talk, you’d think a woman shouldn’t be out of the kitchen except maybe to polish her man’s shoes.

  No way, this isn’t for me. I get tradition and all, but I can’t be what they’re asking me to be. I have to be me. I have to live my life. I am becoming more incensed by the second.

  Grazia must have sensed by impatience as she steps in right before I’m going to tell them to take their advice and shove it, which would have turned into a horrible situation. Nero would lose his mind if his new wife started an argument with the aunts.

  “Ladies I believe it’s my turn to spend some time with my new sister-in-law,” Grazia announces and leads me to her bedroom. I notice pictures on the walls as we ascend the staircase. Pictures of a baby Grazia and what I assume is little Nero. Goodness they were adorable little things. “Well, that was a chore.” She plops onto her bed.

  “They are relentless,” I sigh, relieved to have a few moments to gather my nerves before another assault that I’m sure will be about my wedding night.

  “Sit beside me.” She pats the duvet cover.

  “Thanks for saving me,” I say as I sink onto the bed.

  “I know how difficult it can be to be expected to think a certain
way, behave a certain way. I have the same expected of me. I’m lucky, though, since Father is the don, so many people are afraid to say things to me that will risk his anger. It’s also lonely sometimes,” she shares.

  “I can understand that. I’m glad you’re my family now, Grazia. I can use a friend and someone who knows Nero. He is very guarded and not very talkative,” I tell her.

  She laughs. “Nero has always had to be perfect since he’ll take over for Father. This means that there’s no room for mistakes, so saying he’s guarded is like calling tornado a little dangerous.” She takes my hand and looks into my eyes. “He’s a great man, Felicia. He has many responsibilities, and everyone is looking for a flaw or a chink in his armor so they can find fault with Father’s choice for a new don when the time comes. The pressure Nero deals with daily is undeniably huge. But Felicia, you may be the one to bring a smile to his face and create a home where he can be himself for a short time.”

  “Thank you. I want to be that for him,” I say sincerely. She loves her brother as I do mine. I can see that she is happy with my words. “I really don’t want to go back down there, though. You and I both know that the next topic will be the wedding night and I believe that some things should be private between a husband and wife. “

  “So, tell them that,” Grazia encourages.

  “I don’t want to insult them; I just want my privacy.”

  “Felicia, if you don’t want to talk about you and Nero, them stand up and tell them so. Nero will back you a hundred percent because he hates gossip. I can guarantee the men are grilling him as well, but he won’t give them anything,” she concludes.

  “All right, then. I guess it’s time to suck it up.” I rise to lead our way back to others.

  We make our way back downstairs. Zia Silvia, Amate’s wife and the don’s sister, approaches us as we hit the bottom stair. “Grazia, your mother is asking for your help in the kitchen. Not to worry, I’ll keep Felicia company until you get back.” She smiles and links her arm in mine, then leads me out through the patio doors. We take a seat on the bench in the middle of a beautiful garden filled with rosebushes and azaleas. The colors are beautiful, and I could sit here all day enjoying the scenery.

  “You were a beautiful bride,” says Zia Silvia.

  “Thank you.”

  “I hope that Nero didn’t keep you up too long after the banquet,” she says.

  This is a prelude to asking more intimate questions, so I decide to nip this in the bud immediately.

  “Zia Silvia, I hope you understand that I am a little shy to discuss my time with Nero. I don’t think he’ll appreciate me sharing intimate details.”

  “My wife is correct, Zia Silvia.”

  We both turn to see Nero removing his sunglasses as he walks across the grass to us. “Zia, Zio Amate is ready to leave. You may want to go find him.”

  Zia kisses my cheek politely then waltzes back through the patio doors in search of her husband.

  Nero takes the newly vacated seat. “I see they sent in the heavy artillery,” he laughs. “They figured you’d have a hard time fending off my nosy aunt. I’m proud of you, Felicia.”

  I smile at his praise. It feels good to know I’ve pleased him. Pride fills me. I am glad he found me. I hope it means we’re leaving.

  “Can we go now?” Hoping like mad that this gathering is over.

  “That’s why I’m here. We have a lot to discuss before I go back to work tomorrow.” Taking my hand, Nero takes us back to the house where we say our goodbyes.

  But Nero doesn’t head back to the condo. “Where are we going?” Could he be taking me somewhere special? A true honeymoon, even if it’s only for a night? Nero told me he wouldn’t be able to take me on a honeymoon for a few months. He is working on a family matter and needs to be available for his Father.

  “To our new home. I took you to the condo last night because it was closer to the banquet hall. We’ll still use the condo from time to time when I have meetings or events in that area, but we’ll be living in a house close by.”

  “I didn’t know you had a house. Then again, I didn’t know you had a condo,” I say surprised.

  “I think there’s a lot we have to learn about one another, Felicia. I bought the home when we became engaged. I had it modernized, however I am leaving you to decorate as I have no interest in that. I chose a place that would be beneficial for meetings with my father and within distance to your family,” Nero explains matter-of-factly.

  “I appreciate you taking my family into consideration, Nero. Thank you.” I am doing a happy dance that he was thinking of me when choosing our home.

  He tells me about how he came to buy the house during our drive. It’s another half hour before coming up on a ten-foot wrought iron gate. Four of Nero’s men stand guard.

  This is not a simple house; it’s a mansion surrounded by five acres of property from what Nero told me earlier. The place is surrounded by tall trees, a mix of oak and hemlock. We come up on the house itself. The front is designed with natural stone in an intricate mix of different shades of gray.

  My car door is opened by an older man in uniform, his face is smiling, and he has kind eyes. “Signora Moretti, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Hello.” I smile at him. “I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage. I don’t know your name.”

  Nero clasps him on the back. “Felicia, this is Enrico. He does everything there is to do around the house and gardens. His wife, Mariana, is our housekeeper and cook. They live in a cottage behind the main house. He is also one of the few men I trust implicitly.”

  “Your wife is beautiful, Nero.” Enrico extends his hand guiding us through the doorway.

  “That she is.” Nero pats him on the back. “Now, let’s get inside and I can show her the house.” We walk a few steps before Nero continues, “Enrico and Mariana are going back to Italy on a short vacation, so you’ll have time to get situated before they rejoin our household.”

  I step into an empty house. And I mean empty. No furniture at all. Our footsteps clink as we walk through the hallway on the slate tiles. Nero leads me through each room. The main floor has a massive kitchen, sitting room, dining room, an office, and multiple powder rooms. The upper floor has five bedrooms, each with their own ensuite. The master bedroom is the only room with some furniture: a king-sized bed and dresser.

  “I’ve had our clothes and your personal belongings sent here earlier today,” he tells me as he opens the closet to show me.

  “The house is empty,”

  “This is our home now, Felicia. It is your duty to make our house a home.” He opens his arms, emphasizing the lack of furniture.

  “I don’t know what you like. What if you hate what I choose?” I tug on my lower lip with my teeth.

  “I have faith that you’ll figure it out. After all, you chose a gift for me without knowing very much about me. Also, the furniture in this room will be moved after you choose a bedroom suite,” Nero informs me.

  “You don’t like this furniture?” I’m surprised. It’s really nice. Albeit manly, but I love the deep expresso color.

  “It was something my mother chose so I’d have a bed when I stayed here while they were renovating. It’s fine, but I’m sure you can choose something that suits us both.”

  “Okay, then I’ll start in this room. Or do you prefer I look for furniture for your office first?” I ask.

  “If you take care of the office first, then I can work from home more often,” he says with a smirk.

  “The office it is then.” I walk about the room, taking it all in.

  He grins and making him smile, makes me smile.

  “I’m having one of the men pick up dinner. How do you feel about Chinese food?” he asks.

  “I love it and I’m pretty hungry.” I am grateful that he thought about food.

  “That’s because you ate next to nothing earlier,” he reminds me.

  “I was too nervous with everyone watching me,�
� I confess.

  “Felicia, we will always be watched. This is our life and we must get used to the changes. It’s time for you to stop worrying what others think. The only people you need to worry about are me and my father.” His words ring true. This is my new normal. I am the wife of the future of La Famiglia.

  One day married and I am feeling the importance of creating a home for Nero and me. I want to see more of his smile. I love that he trusts me with decorating our home.

  Chapter Ten

  Mrs. Moretti-Day One

  Felicia

  I wake to an empty bed. The rumpled sheets and an indentation on the pillow next to mine reminds me of the passionate evening I had with Nero. He made my body sing. When we are together it feels perfect, like we were always meant to be with one another. His scent still lingers on the sheets.

  His man, Livio, had come in with two massive bags of Chinese food. His partner, Dario, had brought in paper plates, plastic cutlery, and all the necessities for dinner picnic. It was then when I wondered where we were going to eat. The place was empty, nothing, nada. After an unproductive search, I returned to the only room that had anything in it. I trudged up the stairs and opened the closet. An internally happy dance began when I spotted an extra blanket on the shelf. That will have to do, I decided and set the food on the blanket on the floor in front of the fireplace in the den. Nero had just watched me walk around, looking at me completely amused. When I’d finished and knelt on the blanket, I threw my hands out. “Voila!”

  Nero had laughed out loud and hard. I have never heard him laugh like that, and, right there and then, I vowed that I would make it my mission to hear that laugh daily.

  He hung his suit jacket on the doorknob then sat across from me. We ate Chinese food and he let me have the last dumpling. Nero asked about my favourite past times. I told him that I was an avid runner. I asked about the pictures on the wall in his parents’ home. I mentioned that I saw one of him and I thought he was a cute little guy.

  He snorted with laughter. What a beautiful sound, his laughing. “I don’t think I was ever referred to as cute, Felicia. Mischievous, headstrong, and curious were what they called me most. Except my father who thought I was a royal pain in his ass because I questioned everything.”