Reign Of Possession: Dark Reign, #3

Prologue

Luciano

N ow that we’ve worked through the finances and business developments, we need to discuss Grazia, Marco Moretti, our capo, states.

I sit at the back of the room taking it all in. As the newest underboss, I have a lot on my plate. Mainly, cleaning up the previous underboss’s messes. Unruly men, lack of training, skimming off the family, shady deals with local drug dealers… I’ve spent the better part of the year instilling discipline and weeding out the troublemakers.

I’m up at five in the morning and don’t get home until late into the night. This has been my life, along with traditional Sunday visits to my mother and sister. We’re all the family we have left. Dad died years ago from cancer. My mother has never fully recovered from the loss of her husband, but goes through the motions for Cara. I loved my father; he taught me all I know, and when he was gone, I was lost and started acting out. Marco become like a father to me. Nero and I have been best friends since we started school.

Nero had my back, both in school and in La Famiglia. Nero’s the closest I’ll ever come to a biological brother. Marco even took me into their home in my teens because Mom was having trouble dealing with a teenage boy going off the rails. Marco, on the other hand, had no trouble calling me out on my shit. He got me back on track, taught me to believe in and trust myself.

I owe them. And this is why I have been able to keep my mouth shut about this conversation. It’s killing me. The topic of Grazia sticks in my throat. They’ve been looking for a suitable match for the past year. Grazia has been able to redirect, make an excuse, beg for more time. She bats her lashes at her father, and it works every single time.

When I lived with the Morettis, they treated me as their own. Grazia was like a sister to me. Somewhere along the line, I stopped thinking of her that way. I would see her in her school uniform, and I felt like a lech. I began avoiding her, and it got so bad, I threw myself into La Famiglia.

I thought it was the best thing to ever happen to me, until now. Nero has spoken to me about being his consiglieri when his father steps down. Marco put his stamp of approval on it, and because of that, I’m back here more often than I should be, because my need to possess Grazia hasn’t changed.

We need to make a decision. I’m getting tired of debating this. It’s on the agenda at every meeting we have. Nero’s exasperation is apparent.

Do you want your sister, your blood, to live a shit life because we chose the wrong man to care for her? Marco counters.

Of course not. We’re running out of excuses for all the men who have asked for her hand, Nero reminds him.

Right. We don’t leave this room until we make the decision. Marco then goes on to grab his notes. Vincenzo has approached me on behalf of his son, Matteo.

Good soldier. Solid man. Same age as Grazia, maybe a little young, but if that’s the only drawback, we can work with him on maturity, Nero says.

I should shut my mouth, but it has a mind of its own. A man is not a man if Daddy needs to plead his case.

True, Marco grumbles. Donato Foggio came to me a few months back and asked if Grazia has been spoken for. At the time, I told him that when she’s finished her last term, I would make a decision. He taps his pen on the desk, looking up at his son.

Smooth talker. I don’t have faith in his ability to lead. Is he trainable? Nero turns to ask me. Me. He’s asking me for my seal of approval on this. Could this get any worse?

He visits the casinos almost every weekend and the whorehouses daily, I tell them both.

Marco flips the page in his notebook, and my gut is churning. You know our men well. Is there anyone you would trust Grazia to?

A knock on the door grabs our attention. Grazia walks in with Marco’s afternoon espresso. The man loves his coffee. A silhouetted beauty glides across the room. She’s an angel on earth, taller than most of the girls in La Famiglia, but still a foot shorter than me. I swear, her hair is a warm brown with these strands of deep red, cascading over her shoulders. She has huge doe eyes and perfect pink bow lips. One look at her and I want to devour her.

She wouldn’t be smiling at her father if she knew he was deciding her fate today. I brought enough for you, Luciano. My name rolls off her tongue.

"Thanks, principessa." I smile at her. She hands me the espresso cup, kisses her father on the cheek, and exits just as quickly as she came.

As soon as the door shuts, I blurt, I’m the one who should marry Grazia.

And so it begins anew.

Chapter One

I Caved

Luciano

H ave you lost your fucking mind? Nero screams in my face. His hands grip my dark jacket. His eyes pierce mine. His face is red with fury, and I’ve seen that face often enough to know that you never want it directed at you.

Yet, here I am, poking a very dangerous bear. Whereas our capo, Marco Moretti, is standing behind his desk simply watching the scene unfold. I catch a glimpse over Nero’s shoulder and watch him come around the desk to stand with his back to it, leaning on it to sit on the edge.

Nero, stand down. The authoritative command from our capo stops Nero from ripping my head clean off my shoulders.

It takes Nero a moment, but he finally lets go of me and takes a step back. He veers toward his father. "He’s talking about Grazia. Our Grazia," he spews.

Step outside, my son. I need a moment with Luciano, Marco tells him. Nero looks disbelievingly at his father and is ready to say something more, but Marco gives him a stern look, and that shuts him up, at least for now. His teeth are clenched, his fists balled tight, and I can see that the last thing he wants to do is leave the room. However, he’s not yet the capo, and although he is Marco’s son, he’s still a soldier in La Famiglia. An important man in his own right, but he doesn’t have the final say, not yet.

I wait for the door to shut, much louder than normal, I might add, before approaching my capo. I won’t lower my eyes, I vow, in silence. Marco won’t respect or entrust his daughter to a man who cowers.

Sir— I begin.

Quiet, Marco interrupts, then takes a heavy breath before raising himself from the edge of the desk and straightening his shoulders. The man may be in his late fifties, but I don’t doubt his ability to knock me senseless. Yes, I could overpower him, but what purpose would that serve? I would never have Grazia then.

You have caused quite a stir with just a few words, Luciano. Why should I give you my daughter? She is a gentle soul, and you are a very hardened man. Do you have any idea how much chaos you caused in this moment? Nero was happy to end you just now. The only reason I halted your death was because your father was my best friend and consigliere, and you, my boy, have been a trusted friend to Nero. Marco moves across the room to sit by the fireplace in his rustic brown leather wingback chair. Explain yourself, he says, waving his hand in the air, gesturing for me to say my piece.

I know what Grazia means to you and your wife. I understand the close relationship she has with Nero and the deep-rooted friendship she shares with Felicia. I’ve fought this battle with myself over and over, sir. Every week, the topic of Grazia comes up. Every week, I hear the names of men who aren’t deserving of her. Men who are into hard kink, have a lust for rough sex, take an occasional hit of coke, and then I think of Grazia with one of those men and my blood boils. I near Marco’s chair and lower my voice. I would never disrespect Grazia. Or demean her in any way. You’ve treated me like a son, had me in your home, and raised me as you did Nero, and for that, I will be eternally grateful. I’ve seen Grazia grow into a beautiful woman who is cautious until she gets to know you, but once she does, she wears her heart on her sleeve. I know her. I’ve known her since she was three years old, and I would lay down my life for her.

There is more to marriage than respect, Luciano. We have customs. You need an heir to take your place one day. How do you go from sister to wife? Marco asks.

I may have treated her like a little sister when I lived here with you, but she isn’t my sister. I decide on another tactic. "I’ve clawed my way from the ground up in La Famiglia to earn my title. I challenge you to find any other man in this outfit who has more or equal loyalty to you and Nero. Who else could you trust Grazia with? Who else would ease her into a marriage she’s been avoiding for the last two years? I don’t give him the opportunity to respond. I would."

The room is quiet as Marco contemplates my words. He looks me over, and then I see the corner of his mouth tilt upward in a sly smirk. You know what happens if my daughter is harmed in any way, Luciano. I stand firm and nod once. Before I agree, you must make peace with Nero. He needs you by his side as his consigliere when he takes over, and we can’t have discord in our family. Marco stands and waves his hand to the closed door, motioning for me to open it.

Nero nearly barrels me over when he comes through. Obviously, he hasn’t cooled off yet.

I will leave you two alone. I don’t want blood on my carpet, Marco says as he heads out the same door Nero entered.

Nero is pacing like a caged tiger. What the fuck are you thinking? he shouts. I love you like a brother, you know that, but Grazia is my fucking sister.

He continues to come at me, so I decide to go with the truth. I love her, I state plainly.

What!?

I love her. When I left your home all those years ago, it wasn’t because I needed to find myself. I didn’t need to be alone. I did it because I was watching Grazia grow into a beautiful angel, and I couldn’t risk our friendship. I didn’t know the depths of what I’d been feeling until you and your father started discussing suitable matches for her, and I wanted to go out and slash the throats of every man your mentioned. I rake a hand through my hair. I don’t even know when it started.

Have you ever— Nero starts menacingly.

Fuck, no! I say. I would never disrespect Grazia, or your father, or especially you, my best friend. I didn’t even know I was going to say what I said earlier. It flew out of my mouth when you kept throwing out names of suitors. The thought of Grazia with Tommaso makes me want to hurl.

That draws a hint of a smile from Nero. He wouldn’t be my first choice either. He comes closer to me. Swear to me that what you are saying is true. You truly love Grazia.

On my father’s grave, I say solemnly. Nero knows the love and respect I had for my father. "I’ve been struggling with the idea of talking with you about it for a while, not wanting our brotherhood to suffer. My devotion to La Famiglia, to you and your father, is boundless. But I can’t help how I feel for Grazia. I pause and let out a breath. You know, deep down, you know I am the best choice for her."

Nero sits on the small sofa, elbows on his knees, and looks up at me. What if she doesn’t see you that way? Grazia has always seen you as her ‘other big brother.’ Nero reminds me of the salutation Grazia used to give whenever she entered the room and found me and Nero together. Hey, brother and other big brother, she would shout out as she skipped through the room. It started with a skip, then somewhere along the line, it became a sway of her hips. Her ballet shoes became sexy sandals, then one day, I knew I was in trouble.

Grazia knows she must marry. It is inevitable, and she has declared more than half the prospective grooms to be incompetent. With me, she knows she’ll be safe. I sit across from Nero. In the end, we can ask her. If she would rather be matched with another, then I must accept it. I have no intention of accepting it, although allowing Nero to believe Grazia has an out seems to calm him.

Dad and I will talk to her tonight, he says.

No, I think it should be me, I counter. A little time alone with Grazia, and I’m sure she’ll see the benefits of committing to me.

That’s not done.

"Jesus, Nero. I’ve been alone with Grazia many times. I have no intention of defiling your sister. You of all people know how stubborn she can get. I’m not asking to take her to a hotel room. We stay here, maybe take a walk on the grounds. I can feel her out. She’s comfortable with me. Do you think any of the others would take their time with Grazia? She’ll be a means to climb the Famiglia ladder. As beautiful as she is, those men want power. I have power. I don’t need to prove myself anymore. I’m an underboss, my district runs virtually flawlessly, and I presume I’m still the intended consigliere." Nero is coming around. The validity of my statements is true; in his gut, he knows that others see Grazia as a trophy.

"Fine. If Dad agrees, you