The Leader
13th!!**
reading and writing about sassy women who can save themselves
and alpha men with a heart of gold (sometimes). Yay to insta-lust,
nay to insta-love.
(ok, sometimes a LOT of steam) try one of my books!
GIO
Giovanni Detta stared at the gritty pictures of Gina, Jocelyn, and Mary Rossi:
his
selection of potential brides. He had less than a month to put a ring on one of
their fingers. None of the girls were on social media, so he only had a handful
of
pictures they had been able to find within their limited timeframe. Considering
the line of work their patriarch, Antonio Rossi, was in—laundering money for
the mob, amongst other things—it made sense to not have their pictures
plastered all over the internet.
“I still can’t believe you agreed to this,” his brother Vincent said, from the
couch on the other side of his desk.
Vince was a firm believer in variety being the spice of life. Co-owning an
adult club, where he shared women with his business partner, had made him
an
even worse player than the born womanizer he already was. Vince couldn’t
fathom the thought of being with one woman for the rest of your life. Or, per
Antonio Rossi’s demand, for at least two years, in Gio’s case. But that was the
deal. Stay married to one of the Rossi girls for that time, in exchange for Rossi
Enterprises; an asset that was crucial in their plan to avenge the murder of their
parents. Of course, with the way Rossi’s business was going, the old man
didn’t
have much choice but to entrust his legacy to Gio instead of a looming hostile
takeover, but Gio couldn’t take the chance that this deal might go awry. Rossi
might have come to him first, since he had been friends with his father, but in
the
end, business was business. If a better offer came along, he wouldn’t hesitate
to
pawn one of his granddaughters off to another man.
He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, well, I did. So, help me pick a bride so
we can move on.” Sharing his name with one of the Rossi girls was just a
means
to an end.
“I’m just saying, you’re only thirty, for Christ’s sake,” Vince continued.
“Far too young to get hitched to just one woman. You should be sowing your
oats for at least another decade.”
“Says the king of sowing his oats all over the West Coast,” Jackson
scoffed.
Vince flipped him off, earning a grin from their youngest brother, who sat
on the corner of the desk.
“I have four weeks, tops, before a hostile takeover.” Which was the reason
why he had to pick a bride in such a short timeframe. He looked at Jackson, the
smart one. The lawyer with a brain, who never forgot a thing. “Talk to me, Jax.”
Jackson leaned over the desk and pointed at the first picture. “Meet GinaRossi. Twenty-three. Currently working as an interior designer. Though,
working
might be a bit of an exaggeration. According to her tax returns, she only works
a
job or two a year. Spends most of her time spending Antonio’s money.”
He pointed to the second picture. The girl was wearing a leather jacket and
jeans. Half her face was obscured by a baseball cap. “This is Jocelyn.
Graduated
top of her class. She wrote a thesis on software programming and—”
“Not that one,” Gio said, discarding the picture. He needed a wife who
loved to spend her days shopping and visiting a salon. One that wouldn’t ask
any
questions and would leave him the fuck alone.
“Why not?” Jax smirked. “Don’t want a wife with brains?”
“What would she need a brain for?” Vince said with a wink.
“Damn, you two are misogynists. I already pity your brides.”
Vince snorted. “Don’t think I don’t know what that fancy word means,
Harvard boy. I happen to love women, not hate them, so that word doesn’t
apply
to me.”
“We already have an annoying brainiac in the family, Jax. You’re more
than enough.”
“Smart women are the worst,” Vince chimed in. “Also, the other two look
prettier.”
Jackson gave them a disgusted look and pointed at the last picture. “Which
brings us to the youngest, Mary. Twenty-year-old art major and, according to
what intel I’ve been able to gather so far, as sweet and innocent as her name.”
The girl was pretty, Gio had to admit, but looked like she might break after
one good fuck. Also, he didn’t do sweet; though, he knew looks could be
deceiving. His current mistress looked like an angel too, but was a devil in bed.
Just the way he liked it.
“What about the fourth granddaughter?” He had studied everyone with ties
to their parents. For the past years, that had been his sole focus. That, and
making sure his family stayed safe.
“Carmen is married, so I didn’t include a picture of her.”
“Married to whom?” Antonio Rossi wasn’t the kind of man to hand his
granddaughters over to just any man. From what he remembered, he had
practically raised his granddaughters on his own. Which meant that, as their
semi-father, Antonio got a say in which son-in-law was an asset to his family.
That explained why he’d come with this deal to Gio. He was lucky Gio had
been
eyeballing his company for a while; though, for different purposes than Rossi
suspected.
Jackson made a derisive sound. “The poor girl is married to Franco ‘The
Bull’ Caruso.”
“Fuck.” Vince shook his head. “If she’s married to that asshole, there’s
probably not much left of her anyway.”
Gio knew there was some bad blood between Vince and the Caruso heir.
His brother might not be a saint, far from it, but he didn’t abuse women. Franco
Caruso was known for his more sadistic tastes. Ever since half his family had
gotten locked up, it was said he took it out on his women. Some men just didn’t
want to face the reality that the glory days of the Italian mob were over. As with
any business model, you had to stay flexible, adjust your plans to what the
future
might bring. Nowadays, that was going legit; at least, on the outside. With
Franco’s father and brother murdered in jail, every day it became more
apparent
that he didn’t have what it took to lead what was left of the family business.
“Guess I can rule her out.”
“Which makes your choice easy,” Vince claimed.
If only it were that simple. Every decision he made had a purpose. Every
chess piece on the board served one as well. He wanted the one the old man
was
closest to, which he would discover tonight, during dinner. Every man had a
tell,
and so would Antonio Rossi.
“Which one is Antonio’s favorite?”
“I don’t think he has one,” Jackson said, scrutinizing the pictures. “Antonio
is pretty old-school, which probably means he prefers boys to girls as his heir.
He has two sons, Petro and Marco, and one daughter, Gabriella. Petro, the
oldest,
is dead. He’s also Carmen and Jocelyn’s father. The other son, Marco, left for
Europe after a hunting accident that blinded him in one eye. He’s a playboy,
living the good life somewhere in Monaco. His daughter, the mother of Mary
and Gina, lives in Southern France with her third husband. Antonio is desperate
for a strong male heir, someone with the brains and brawn to handle his vast
business that has taken a hit since the crisis. He could have just agreed to the
amount you offered him, but I guess he wanted to leave Rossi Enterprises to
his
flesh and blood.”
Antonio Rossi had been the one to introduce their mother to their father.
Obviously, his matchmaking days weren’t over.
As the oldest of four, Gio remembered their parents the best. Giacomo
Detta, enforcer to a crime syndicate, had been a beast when it came to his job,
but a traditional family man that had worshiped his wife. The second he
stepped
over the threshold of their house, the cold expression on his face disappeared
and
he became a doting husband. He’d told Gio once that agreeing to marry his
mother was the best decision he’d ever made. According to him, when he’d first
laid eyes on his future wife, he just knew. He was also convinced that every
man
worth his salt needed a strong woman. “Take care of your woman and she will
take care of you,” had been his father’s credo. Protect and provide. Two words
his father had lived by.
Sadly, however, he was dead now. No longer able to give him any life’s
advice. Their beautiful mother would never dance with her sons on their
wedding day. She would never hold a grandchild in her arms. No one had ever
claimed the hit on Giacomo Detta, which was odd. Killing the enforcer of a
crime boss was like cutting off his right arm. It was something to boast about, a
rite of passage in those circles. Which was the reason they had never believed
that their father had become a casualty in a family war. Especially not, since
the
same night, their mother was murdered as well.
Finding their parents’ murderer had always been their endgame. It had
taken them over a decade to find the one responsible, and years to gather the
means to make Oscar “The Knife” Bianchi pay. A year ago, Bianchi had been
untouchable. But no more. They had slowly been chipping away at the
bastard’s
assets until he was close to hitting rock bottom.
Marrying a Rossi girl and taking control of Rossi Enterprises was the final
step.
