3

RODRIGO

LATER THAT DAY …

I was a calm man. A patient one. Till someone fucking pissed me off. When that happened, any human brave enough to be around me was taking their life in their hands.

My footsteps leaving the elevator and stalking towards my corner office echoed throughout the top floor, resounding my anger at my Boston headquarters.

While I marched through the building, the rest of the office went quiet. Tension hung high in the air tighter than any guitar string. Calls dropped. Typing stopped. Conversations paused. A man came out of an adjoining office and immediately backtracked out of sight upon seeing me.

Coward.

I was a man to be feared on any day. Anyone who only met me for a second was a fool not to know that. Some said my all-seeing gaze was equal to being caught under a laser beam, my grip one of metal. Others would say on days like today, when my mood was as black as the devil's coat, it was much worse. It was better not to see me at all, for a second could cost your life.

If any other man made these threats, they might be taken figuratively. Any other man. Anyone who knew me through my multimillion-dollar, private, investment banking business feared me with a touch of jealousy. I had already achieved international success at the age of twenty-seven. After all, a man so young did not get to where he was by playing nice. I had the ability to crush anyone financially.

But for the ones who were aware of my position in Cosa Nostra, finances were the least of their troubles. They had everything to lose if they were to meet me under the wrong circumstances. Being appointed as consigliere at the young age of thirty spoke volumes. The rumours paving my path spoke of respect earned from the don, of sublime control, of master manipulation… rumours that had gained in volume over the past four years.

You take a man’s Cosa Nostra heritage and add to it intelligence and savvy business sense, you end up with a booming business. Both in the day and in the night. A success which should have made me a satisfied man.

It didn’t.

I marched into my office and slammed the door shut. Let them all hide. Sooner or later, one would have to creep out. Like a cat waiting for the mice, I waited. The urge to put a hole through someone's goddamn head weighed heavier on me today than on any other day.

I strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows with my hands taut in my pockets. The view that I paid millions for couldn’t penetrate my eyes today. The frustration running inside me had no end. My troubles were dark today. I held my sharp body tight because I knew if I let go, I might do something I would regret. Like, put my fucking wife in a box. But I couldn’t. My hands were bound. Besides, I never hurt a woman. That was one of my own rules. It was just that sometimes a man was tempted to break his own rules.

Was I ever actually happy with Yuli? If I was, I couldn’t pinpoint when that would have been. Was I happy when I made the deal with Vladimir to tie our clans together? His idea of forging a partnership together by marriage to his daughter had made perfect sense. What better way to seal the deal for a high-testosterone relationship between the Bratva and the Cosa Nostra than through marriage? So, of course, I went along with it. Even when the words of my dying papa floated in my mind, I paid no heed to them. Arranged marriages were nothing new in Cosa Nostra. I didn’t care for love, anyway. My father’s dreams were a fucking joke. How could I replicate something I had never seen?

Was I happy in the first days, weeks, and months of our marriage? I was sexually satisfied. I could fault Yuli for many things. Many, many things. But not being able to work a man wasn’t one of them.

That was also the only way she knew how to satisfy me. She was short-tempered and spoilt. Frankly, what else could I have expected when she was the only daughter of a mob leader? She was rude to all my people and her own. She was neither interested in being a wife nor a daughter. As it turned out, being a mother wasn’t on her wish list either. Most of these I would have overlooked to keep peace. There was much more at stake than just our marriage, and patience was a virtue I was most familiar with. After all, I had all the practice I could gain with my mother and her conniving ways.

Still, it was a trait that trembled like the skyscrapers in a tornado when I discovered her drug addiction. It got the blood in my veins boiling that I hadn’t discovered this until much later on in our marriage. I should have sniffed that out before I signed the damn contract.

Everything spun out of control after that. Her betrayal, infidelity. It was like Yuli let all control go the moment I knew her secrets. Still, I wouldn’t have divorced her. I didn’t care about her indiscretions, but it was what it was. If she wanted to catch syphilis by catching too many dicks, it was certainly no business of mine. There were no divorces in the Cosa Nostra. Only death. Even that was not an option when your wife was the only daughter of the Russian mob, and your marriage was a contract keeping two clans on the same side. I resigned myself to my situation.

She took my resolve and rattled it like a flag in a storm when I found out she was pregnant. I didn’t believe in prayers, but that day I prayed to sweet Jesus. Don’t let that baby be mine. I guess Jesus didn’t have time for me. The DNA results punctured my nerves far worse than any gunshot wound could. There was no way I was allowing any baby of mine to dwell in a drug-induced womb. The effort I had to put in during her pregnancy was a testament to my patience. Tying her to a bed and keeping her fed was the only way I could stop her from drugging herself and my child.

No. I didn’t think I was ever happy with Yuli.

Happiness only arrived with the birth of my princess. That beautiful smile, that finger gripping mine. I knew I would sacrifice anything for my baby girl. I would have stayed in that marriage. For Carla. Except that the bitch had to go and do the unthinkable.

My private mobile rang and drilled into my thoughts. Only a few knew this number, so I knew who it was.

“Vladimir,” I answered on a video call. I needed to see his face for this conversation.

“Rodrigo, my son.” My father-in-law’s heavy-built face spread beyond my phone screen.

“You heard?” I discreetly decreased the volume on my phone. I didn’t need my eardrums trilling from the loud boom in his voice.

“My men informed me. I heard you got her back. How is she doing?”

“How do you think she is?” I sat down and placed the phone on my desk. Agitation coiled inside me. “Thank fuck she’s a baby and doesn’t realise her mother just abandoned her in a laundromat. Of all places. I must have done something right to have people all over looking out for us. What if the Mexicans picked Carla up?” There was a fury inside me that I tried hard to restrain. I was in danger of rattling the diplomacy I was known for.

“God forbid,” Vladimir hissed, crossing himself.

I envied the man. He had his god to rest his worries on. This morning, the earth slipped under me, even though I was standing on fucking concrete. I never wanted to feel like I did when I realised Carla was missing.

“You bet. I have exercised a lot of patience with your daughter. But she has pushed me too far now.” I watched the other man’s face, but he was as good at hiding his emotions as I was. “I have filed for a divorce.”

Vladimir took a puff of his cigar and disappeared under a cloud of smoke. When he reappeared, all sixty-five years of his age clung to his face. “I understand. I’ve already spoken about this matter with my family. If she’s not welcome in your home, she’s not welcome in mine. Her mother and I stand behind this decision. We support our son and our granddaughter.”

“Your sons might disagree.”

“They won’t.” His facial muscles turned firm and adamant. “I have already spoken to them about this. You need not worry about this, Rodrigo.”

“You understand I will ask for full custody of Carla?” I pushed.

“Of course.”

I leaned back in my chair, a burden lifting off my chest. “Thank you, Vladimir. I appreciate this.”

“No. We are sorry. It was truly not our intention to let this union fail. We overlooked her drug addiction and to what extent she will go to feed her and her lover with it. We’re sorry we put you through this.”

There was no pleasure to be taken from a defeated man. A tickle of pity rumbled inside me. How would I feel if I one day had to make this decision about Carla? The stress of this morning alone had added an extra layer of silver to my hair, I was sure. “Let bygones be bygones, Vladimir. We will start afresh. But without a union of marriage.”

I had had to do some sweet talking to Massimo. Four years ago, Chase had sent me here for my notorious diplomatic skills to tie bounds with rival mobs and to start whitewashing the Cosa Nostra business here. It was a necessity more needed than fresh air with the Boston PD pushing in. I put those skills to good use today to save face. Without a doubt, Chase’s support helped dim the bitter taste. I would have to fucking kill Chase before he dropped me off his good graces.

“We are enemies in our homelands,” Vladimir stated, probing to figure out how far I would go with this. Will I start a war over this?

No one was worth a war.

“We are not in our homelands, Vladimir. Here we have each other's back. You have nothing to worry about. I have resolved the situation with Chase.”

“Good. Does Massimo know?”

“As Capo here, I can hardly not tell him. He’s not happy. Besides, he can’t override Chase. If the don has agreed to move past it, he has to as well. He knows as well that the situation was not under control before. Now it is, at least with our clans. It took a marriage for us to realise we didn’t need one to solidify our bond.”

“We just needed you. In four years, you have changed so much. We are all grateful. Your father would be proud, my boy.”

I sure hoped so because I was going to bring something new to our family. Disgrace with a divorce.

“We will get the paperwork arranged quietly. No need to bring our families any disgrace,” Vladimir said as if he was privy to my thoughts.

“I couldn’t agree more. Doubt Yuli is going to put up a fight.”

This morning’s events had left me so shaken, fucking emotions had taken over. That was a mistake. Emotions got in the way of everything. Now, it was time to get back into action. I rang in my assistant.

Isabella knocked on my door and came in. Petite, with an hourglass figure, she had been by my side for more years than I could recount. Being part of my team that came over from Sicily four years ago, she knew both sides of my business. She was professional. She never addressed me by my first name, which only a few had the privilege of using. She was also a hurricane of efficiency, which is what I needed most days, but especially today.

“Get online with the best agencies for nannies. I want a reliable person. I should have done this ages ago.”

“Of course, Signor Corleone. Nothing but the best for Carla.” She sat down to note my requirements. “Do we have time, though? Finding someone good will take some time. Rosybell is fine to look after Carla until then?”

“Rosybell is incredible with her. I should have left her in charge instead of trusting Yuli.”

“How could she have done that when she is recovering from her knee replacement? Babies are tough and heavy to take care of, especially at Rosybell ’s age.”

“I never hear her complain. I need a Rosybell , but younger.”

“Any other requirements?”

What does one want from a nanny? I didn’t know shit about this. “Young, good physical condition to run behind Carla… trustworthy…”

“Do you want a live-in nanny?”

I frowned. I didn’t even want a stranger in the house, let alone at night. “No. She can go home after Carla goes to bed, or Rosybell can take over the night duties.”

“On it.” Isabella stood up, book in hand.

Finding a younger Rosybell would be like looking for an innocent man in Cosa Nostra. Rosybell was officially my housekeeper. Unofficially? She was more of a mother to me than my own. Which reminded me…

“Isabella,” I called out just as she was about to close the door.

“Yes, Signor Corleone?”

“Get my mother on the phone. I need to inform her before someone else does.”

“Of course.”

Fucking a man would be more enjoyable than this. Hell was about to let loose when my mother found out. She would warrant this as a necessity to visit for a few months from Italy. She wouldn’t be bothered about Carla being dumped in a laundromat. But me getting divorced…. yeah, that would be a problem. A problem for which she would have a fucking solution, I was sure.