The Dutiful Wife.

Chapter One

Ares

Two years ago

I inhaled the secondhand smoke swirling in the crowded room seeing the poker game with little interest. Bernardo Vero was testing my nerves. The fifty-four-year-old man was pushing his limits with me every time. My fingers touched my .45 tucked in my waistband ready to place a bullet between his eyes. His head tilted back exposing his sweaty double chin, letting out a deep laugh gambling money he did not have, inappropriately groping servers, and having a great night despite his losing hand.

For a man who is in debt with La Familia he sits here as if he's untouchable. Due to his history with pops, I spare him, but tonight he dies. Ain't that much grace in the world. Striding into the room fully the energy shifted when I took the back of his balding head and smashed it against the table. Moving my hand to tilt his head back I saw the fear and the minute realization hit his eyes

"Vero."

I have always considered myself a patient man when it came to getting what I wanted. I nodded towards Knox before walking out. I never cared for the poker room, but it was here long before I was. This was La Familias spot ever since pops started playing back there with Aunt Eris & his friends.

Damn, I missed the old man.

Sitting at the furthest booth in the diner I was not there for more than a minute before staring down at a plate of homemade mac and cheese, oxtail, greens, and yams. Which has my stomach growling reminding me that I have not had anything to eat all day.

"If your mama were here, she would turn you every which way but loose, forgetting to eat."

"You're not wrong" I stared up at my aunt Eris.

Eris was a short five two woman with wide hips, deep chocolate skin, and doe eyes that tricked men into thinking she was easy to manipulate. My grandparents named her after the goddess of discord and strife, and she has proven in her younger years why the name fits her well.

"Ares, no bloodshed tonight, last time I had to close for two weeks when you handled your business in the back."

I thought about it.

It would be more convenient for me to off Bernardo where he sat. But meeting aunt Eris glare I knew she was not going to budge; she never did after what I did that night.

"Thank you for the food" ending of our conversation. I would not kill him here, but he would die tonight, nonetheless.

She nodded understanding before attending to her other patrons.

Auntie Eris was born and raised in New York until her twin brother, my father, moved the family to Kingsfield, New Jersey many years ago expanding the syndicate's reach in the city. She named her diner after my late grandmother Millie. Even though to everyone else Eris looked soft & sweet; she is still the same person who taught me how to dismember anyone in less than fifteen minutes.

Now six years after my dad's death I still have no solid leads on who sent out the hit or who took his life. Six years of the underlying fear of losing mama forcing me to send her to Italy with my little brother Esai to keep them safe as I handle the situation.

Taking over the business at twenty-one was already a lot, but being young, black, and el capo posed different problems.

Insubordination, unloyalty, trouble, and loss.

Granddad built this empire when he was just eighteen. Then handed the empire over to my dad, Emil Bertelli and I'll be damned if another syndicate pushes us out.

No one on the East and South coast could handle the Family.

My Family

La Familia, Abbiati, Patino, Cassina, Sartori, and Bertelli.

My brothers for life.

My eyes scanned through the lively diner as I ate. A family of four having a late bite, a group of college students studying, and an old man reading the newspaper with a steaming cup of coffee Eris placed in front of him.

The chime sounded over the door bringing my attention to the newcomers.

Pushing the finished plate to the side. My eyes took in wild curls, hefty sets of breasts, gorgeous brown skin, wide hips, and a more than generous amount of ass that had me leaning in my seat interested.

She had a small child by the age of two on her hips as she leisurely looked around. Aunt Eris flew across the room instantly in front of her guiding her into a booth.

I stared at the back of her head taking in every strand of curly coils I could see.

She moved her gaze around the diner taking in everyone here until our eyes locked briefly. I took protruding shaped amber eyes as the right one sported a blackened bruise underneath. She tensed up at Eris' touch breaking our contact before relaxing again.

Knox came out from the back nodding his head my time here was up. I did not acknowledge her or the sleeping child on her chest. I kissed my aunt on her cheek and told her I will be back to visit.

Leaving out the diner Knox had the back door open for me to step out. "Vero?"

"Barn."

Knox was not the most talkative, but he got the job done each time. We were the same age and grew up together. Since his pops was an enforcer for mine, he became my right hand and one of my closest confidants. We have been stuck with each other since childhood. Fighting, training, even went to the same school up till college.

Even though I could not kill Bernardo where he sat at the poker room.

I would let him at least have his final meal.

~~~~~

"el serpes "

Knox adjusted his arm back and swung it full force against Bernardo's bruised right side. Hearing his screams did nothing to move me, it was always music to my ears hearing the agony of men fill the room. Bernardo was battered and bruised hanging on to life by a thread. He lost consciousness after the first hour of torture. I would say he was brave for lasting this long, but his ending is still the same.

"You’re lying." Before he passed my father made peace with the vipers. A small biker gang in Eastside, NJ whose leader Salvatore tried hard to get into the inner fold.

"I have no reason to lie, Capo, I promise." He reasoned with me. In his current position, he did not have a reason to lie. So, I tuck that information in for later.

"And your debt?" I ask, twisting the handle of the hunting knife between my fingers. His bill ran longer than the Po River in Italy; while I skimmed through the pages of Vero's family and businesses, I read the disgusting things he has done. The amount of money he accumulated, assaults he committed, bank account codes, all the information I needed was in here. I do not know why my father never cut him off; he was a waste of a man. Still waiting for a response from the old man, a photo slipped landing on the floor.

Reaching for it I analyzed the wild curls, deep dimpled smile, bright amber eyes, and a mini size perfect likeness to her on her hips with hazel eyes which had me eyeing the photo a beat too long making me frown.

Before he could lie about paying the money back, my knife was lodged in his throat without taking my eyes off her.

The last thing I heard as I sauntered out of the room with the photo in my suit pocket was Bernardo Vero choking to death.