Daughter of the Mafia's Consigliere

Unknown POV.

Taking the seat provided for me in front of the blindfolded man, I lit a cigarette and inhaled deeply before blowing out the smoke. In the corner of the dimly lit room, a steel barrel filled with ice-cold water waited patiently for the traitorous man who was not only blindfolded but also tied tightly to a chair.

"Carlo," I called calmly, and his head, which had been bowed low, snapped up immediately.

"B-Boss, is that you?" he stuttered, glancing around blindly.

I took another hit of my cigarette before replying, "You broke omertà, Carlo."

He sat up straighter and shook his head wildly. "No, boss, I didn't. I swear, I would never break omertà. I would rather die."

I chuckled lowly and saw him swallow. "But that's not what the pictures say. The ones showing you hanging around that female detective. I mean, I get that she's hot and all, but are you seriously willing to screw your family over just for a fine piece of ass?"

He swore under his breath. "Boss, I admit that I've been seeing her, but I swear to you, on my mother's life, that I never told her anything about the family."

"You swear on your mother's life?" I asked in surprise, unable to stop my mild amusement from reflecting in my voice.

He nodded quickly. "Yes, boss, I swear on her life."

I chuckled again and turned to my right-hand man, Enzo, who was leaning on the wall just a few feet away. "Did you hear that, Enzo? He swears on his DEAD mother's life."

Enzo's lips curled up in a dark smile. "I sure heard it, boss, and I can't help but feel bad for the poor dead woman to have a son like him."

I turned back fully to Carlo. "Why so surprised, Carlo? Did you really think we wouldn't look into your past even before you joined the family?"

"I-I..." he stammered pathetically, and I shook my head before looking up at the two men standing behind him.

"Dunk him in." I uttered, and Carlo gasped.

"No, wait! Boss! I'm sorry!" He cried, flailing as the two men quickly untied him and dragged him over to the steel barrel. With impeccable ease and strength, they lifted a still-protesting Carlo, holding him by his legs so he was hanging upside down before dunking his head into the ice-cold water. Carlo gurgled out incoherent words and muffled screams.

The two men lifted him out of the water, but he barely had enough time to suck in air before they dunked him again, resulting in another round of muffled screams. I focused on my cigarette, blocking out the sounds of his torture.

I heard the door to the room open and titled my head slightly towards the direction but not enough to actually see who it was that had walked in. It was not until I heard the familiar deep voice of my father calling my name, "Riccardo," that I quickly rose to my feet and turned to him.

He was standing by the door with his arms behind his back and was unsurprisingly accompanied by his own right-hand man, Stefan. I arched a brow but bowed slightly to show respect. From the corner of my eye, I saw Enzo do the same. The men torturing Carlo released him long enough to bow to my father too.

"Father," I greeted verbally. "To what do I owe this surprise visit?"

"Step outside; I need to talk to you about something important," he replied, and I glanced over my shoulder at Enzo, who had also been watching me.

"Alone," my father added when he saw the exchange. I nodded curtly.

"Alright." I turned to my men, who were now standing still, holding Carlo upright.

"Keep going until he passes out. I'll be back to deal with him later." I ordered before following my father out of the dimly lit room, as Stefan also stayed behind.

We went up the stairs and stepped into the main part of the house. I led him into my office before shutting the door and gesturing for him to sit.

"There'll be no need for that," he said, rejecting the chair, and I frowned slightly. "I'll try to be as quick as possible," he added before slipping his hand into the inner pocket of the fitted black suit he was wearing and pulling out an envelope. He held it out to me, and I hesitated before taking it. I pulled out the papers inside, and my confusion doubled at what stared up at me. It was a picture of a girl with the most beautiful big blue eyes I had ever seen. Long brown hair, olive skin, a V-shaped face, plump lips, and a nose that very much suited her face. She was breathtaking.

"Who is she?" I asked my father without looking up from those captivating eyes in the photo.

"Marianne Dupont Valentino, your future wife," he answered bluntly, and I looked up at him sharply.

"Pardon?" I blurted in shock, but he merely watched me with a bored look on his face, like he had just said the most normal thing in the world.

I scoffed in disbelief. "What do you mean by 'future wife'? I don't even know her. I've never met her."

"She's Giuseppe Valentino's only daughter," he replied, and I cocked my head. "Your former Consigliere?"

He nodded once. "Okay, but that still doesn't explain why you want me to marry her."

"Long before you and Marianne were born, Giuseppe and I made a promise to each other, more like a pact, that our children would get married when they came of age," he divulged.

"But Giuseppe is dead; you don't have to keep that promise," I argued, and he turned sharply to me with narrowed eyes.

"Of course, I do. It was a promise I made to a man who I considered my brother, and he reminded me of it on his deathbed. He begged me to make sure you married Marianne when the two of you came of age because he knew that we would protect her best from what's coming."

"And what exactly is coming?" I asked, and he answered sharply, "Capo Di Tutti season is what's coming."

I widened my eyes. Shit, I had totally forgotten about that...

"I'm assuming you know what that means," he continued as he slowly moved over to the large windows that overlooked the vast property of the house.

I nodded slowly, even though he couldn't see me. Capo Di Tutti season was always messy and filled with bloodshed. Giuseppe must have actually loved his daughter a lot to think that far ahead and secure her safety before he died.

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I sighed in defeat, knowing I had no choice but to marry the girl because, as much as I liked to be seen as cold, fearless, and ruthless to the people who worked under me, there was one person I was very much afraid of and didn't dare defy. And that person was Giovanni D'Onofrio, better known as my father.

The said man spoke up again without looking away from the window.

"You should be grateful for this opportunity. The girl is exquisite, but most of all, her mother is actually of French royal descent."

My entire body tensed, knowing where he was going with this. He finally turned away from the window to look straight atme. "Unlike you, who is the son of a lowly maid."

I inhaled sharply and looked away from him. It didn't matter how many times he said it; it always hurt. Always. But this time, I decided to fire back a retort, so I turned back to him. "Yes, but you were the one who got a lowly maid pregnant." Instead of getting offended like I hoped he would, he smirked faintly before slowly walking over to where I was standing, stopping right beside me. He lifted his large arm and placed it on my shoulder. He leaned in close to my ear. "That's because she was my whore." He whispered before giving my shoulder a quick squeeze and stepping away from me.

I clenched my palms into fists, glaring at the wall in front of me to hold back from giving in to the overwhelming urge to punch him in the face. How could he have zero respect for the woman who birthed his only son? Even his wife, my adopted mother, hadn't been able to give him a son for the twenty years they had been married before she died in a plane crash. I was his only son, the only heir to the family, and I had dedicated my entire life to preparing myself to be an heir that he would be proud of, but he never missed an opportunity to remind me that I was a nobody. That I was just a bastard birthed by a lowly maid, nothing more.

"The envelope contains more information about the girl. You can also run your own investigations if you like. The wedding will take place eight months from now, right before Capo Di Tutti season fully begins. I advise that you begin to make preparations," he uttered in a firm voice that left no argument before striding to the door.

I walked over to the couch in a corner of the room and sat on it, trying to regain my composure. I was feeling too many emotions at once: anger, hatred, frustration, and helplessness.

He opened the door and paused, turning to me again. "Now is the time to show me how grateful you are to me for saving you from the wretched life you would have had and giving you my last name."

And with those final, scarring words, he exited the room, leaving me alone in my personal turmoil.