Arranged Mafia Marriage

Karma

I glance around to find Luca stalking over to Michael. What the hell? What is he doing here? Michael stiffens, his nostrils flare, and color suffuses his features. His shoulders seem to grow even bigger in size, stretching the material of the suit-jacket. He pivots, closes the distance to Luca, then smashes his fist into Luca’s face.

There’s an audible gasp from the congregants as blood spurts from Luca’s nose and drips to the floor. He staggers back, then straightens. He makes no move to defend himself as Michael plants his fist in his left shoulder, then his right, then slams it into his stomach. The breath whooshes out of him and he drops to his knees. He bunches his fists at his sides, bows his head almost in supplication as he waits…and waits.

Michael raises both of his fists as if to bring them down on him and I scream, “Stop!” I lunge forward and every bone in my body seems to protest. My head spins at the abuse I am subjecting my already battered body to, and I grab hold of Michael’s jacket. “Stop,” I pant, “please, don’t do this.”

There are more gasps from the mourners. Behind me, I sense Nonna and Michael’s father rising to their feet, but I ignore them.

“Get away from me, Karma,” he growls. “Get out of my way before I hurt you.”

“You said you’d never hurt me, Michael,” I hiss. “You promised you’d never allow anything to happen to me.”

His shoulders bunch. Thick waves of tension vibrate off of him and his muscles jump under his skin. His entire body tenses and I am sure he is going to shake me off and complete what he’d set out to do, but he pauses. One by one, he forces his muscles to unwind. He lowers his arms to his sides and I release the breath I’d not been aware I was holding.

“Karma,” Nonna calls out to me in a low voice. I turn to her and she glances at Michael, then back at me. She shakes her head. Something in her gaze reaches out to me. I can’t understand what she’s trying to tell me…but something inside me insists that I obey.

I release my hold on Michael and stumble. Michael pivots so quickly that he seems to blur. He grips my shoulder, holds on until I have regained my footing. He eases me back into my seat, then points a finger at me. “Stay,” he growls, before he stalks over to where his brother has risen to his feet.

The two men glare at each other. Luca’s features are pale but his gaze is clear. Defiance is evident in his stance, but his eyes reflect regret and hope and love… I swallow, turn to Michael, take in the hard set of his features.

He jerks his chin and Luca holds up his hands. “I am sorry,” he says in a voice low enough that only Michael and his family can hear. “I am truly sorry, brother.”

Michael blinks and his features twist as if he’s torn between forgiving him and hitting him again. Then he seems to compose himself.

“I forgive you,” he snaps, “but you will have to pay your dues, Luca. What you did can’t go unpunished.”

Luca draws himself up to his full height, “I would expect nothing less.”

Michael nods, “Then welcome back, fratello.”

Luca holds out his hand. Michael ignores it and winds his arm around his brother’s neck. Luca grips his shoulder and the two embrace.

A palpable murmur runs through those assembled as Michael claps Luca on his back. Luca does the same, then both step back.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

“I am so sorry,” Luca murmurs. “It was my mistake to go after something that belongs to you.”

“And mine that I never trusted you enough to let you in on our inner workings.” Michael steps back. “But let’s discuss that later.” They both turn to look at the open casket.

“Fuck,” Luca swears, “fuck, fuck, fuck.” He balls his fists at his sides, “I should have been here protecting our family. I failed you, brother, and for that, I will never forgive myself.”

Michael stays silent. The two stare at Xander’s body for a few seconds more. Then, Luca walks around and to the other side of the pew. He sits down next to Christian who glares at him before he looks away.

Michael walks toward the front of the church, then turns to face the audience. A frisson of fear runs through the gathered people who instantly fall quiet.

It’s unusual that he’d be the first to speak. I’d have thought the priest would read from the Bible, but he’s the Capo, so I guess Michael makes his own rules, even at a funeral.

He glances around the assembled people and silence envelops the space.

“Alessandro Donatello Domenico Sovrano was more than my brother. In many ways, he was my son. My flesh and blood. The child I brought up and protected and made sure he never went to bed unhappy. He was the most talented of us. He had the face and the heart and the temperament of an angel. He was the youngest, and yet, he was the thread that held our family together. Now that thread has snapped and it falls to me to avenge whoever took him from us.” Michael glances around the room.

I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know that he’s making eye contact with the different heads of the families who’ve gathered there. I imagine the leaders of rival clans are also there. At least, I think I saw Nikolai among them.

The silence stretches as Michael continues his silent assault on the audience. Someone coughs, someone else shuffles their feet, a baby cries and is shushed. The sound of someone sniffing reaches me. I glance over to the other side of the aisle, and find a girl clutching a handkerchief in her hand as she glances in the direction of the coffin. Her shoulders shudder, her features seem to crumple. She jumps to her feet and runs out. I spring up to go after her, but Nonna grips my arm and hauls me back.

“Leave her be; she needs time to come to terms with what has happened,” Nonna murmurs.

I sink back onto the seat, “Who is she? Did she know Xander well?”

“Her name is Theresa,” Nonna replies, “she is Alessandro’s childhood friend.”

Just then, a book drops to the floor with a thud that echoes around the room. I jump and Nonna places her hand on my leg. Her touch is reassuring. I glance toward the front where Michael hasn’t moved from his earlier stance. The silence stretches once again, a beat, then another.

“What is he doing?” I whisper. “Why isn’t he speaking?”

“He’s making sure he gets his message across to all those who are present, making sure they’ll take the message out to whoever was responsible for what happened.”

Nonna firms her lips. She pulls her hand away and I stare straight ahead.

Michael sweeps his gaze over the audience, then nods. “I will hunt down the murderer who was responsible for my brother’s death, and when I catch him… Not even God will be able to save him from what I have planned.”

Goosebumps pop on my skin. He returns to his seat and the priest takes his place to read from the Bible.

Two hours later, I glance around the living room of my husband’s home.