PoV Riccardo
I swirled the amber liquid in my glass, the bourbon a familiar comfort. Mario’s words echoed in my mind, as they always did. “You have to find a woman, Riccardo. You need an heir.”
A grimace tightened my lips. The last attempt at domesticity had ended with a scorched-earth policy, a brutal necessity to protect the family. I wasn’t the same man I’d been then, not anymore. The weight of the empire felt heavier with each passing year.
My gaze swept across the office, a monument to generations of power. The mahogany furniture, polished to a deep luster, held the scent of old money and quiet ambition. The desk, a Chippendale pedestal from the nineteen twenties, was the heart of it all. I’d sat at this very spot as a boy, captivated by its intricate carvings. Now, even in the dim morning light, it exerted a strange pull, a silent testament to the lineage of men who had ruled from this room.
The serpentine top, inlaid with green tooled leather, was a testament to the craftsman's skill. Drawers lined the frieze, each concealing a key, each lock a silent promise of security. Convenient for a man like me, I admitted with a wry smile.
Behind the desk stood a mahogany breakfront bookcase, its stepped cornice reaching towards the high ceiling. Sixteen original shelves held volumes of law, finance, and history. But the real treasure lay hidden within the lower section – two secret drawers, knowledge passed down from father to son. My father had told me about them when I inherited the empire. As a child, I'd imagined gold and jewels. But the reality was far more valuable. Words on paper, contracts and ledgers, were the true currency of power.
I shook my head, taking another sip of bourbon. The initial boldness gave way to notes of oak, honey, and caramel, a warm, sinful finish that demanded another glass. The bottle was almost empty. I glanced at the long case clock in the corner. Nearly seven in the morning. Another sleepless night. Sleep had become a luxury I could no longer afford, not since she’d been gone.
A sigh escaped my lips. Why did life have to be so…difficult? Mario was right. I needed an heir. But the women I’d met—the ones who weren’t terrified, disgusted, or simply after my money—were few and far between. And usually, it was all three.
*Cazzo!*
I needed another drink. I walked to the mahogany cocktail cabinet, opened a bottle of Scotch, and poured a generous measure. Back at the desk, I sat, watching the amber liquid swirl in my glass. How many women had my father and grandfather seduced on this very surface? The thought was both sickening and strangely…familiar. They’d been legendary womanizers, while I simply wanted a wife. A loving wife. But somehow, I always ended up with the wrong ones.
My father had married the wrong woman, but compensated with mistresses. My grandfather, however, had found a woman who cherished him, despite his excesses.
“Shouldn’t you sleep a bit?”
The voice was calm, measured. I looked up to see Mario standing before me, rested and ready to face the day. My gaze returned to the clock. Eight o’clock. Great. Another wasted morning.
“Perhaps I should. Depends on our schedule today.” I slowly lowered my glass.
“You wanted to keep an eye on Metcalfe Park,” he reminded me.
The rumors had been circulating for weeks—women and children abducted, sold at auction. I didn’t care about the women, not particularly. But the children…the innocent little ones, torn from their families, desperate for protection. The thought ignited a cold fury within me. I despised the organizations that trafficked kids, and I wanted to handle this personally, not delegate it to my men.
“Well, I guess it’s time to take a nap then. But don’t hesitate to wake me if something comes up.” Mario nodded, his expression unreadable. He wouldn’t disturb me unless absolutely necessary. He’d always been a fatherly figure, and lately, his focus had shifted to my health—and finding me a wife. I sighed. I knew I’d have to give in eventually. My family was dying for grandchildren, and I was running out of time.
“Are you going to sleep at your desk, or pass out on the carpet?”
The taunting tone made me look up. Mario was still standing there, an eyebrow raised in amusement. If he wasn’t my consigliere, I’d have thrown him out on his ear. I growled, rising to my feet, feeling the alcohol burn in my veins. Hopefully, it would help me drift off for a few hours. Insomnia was a bitch.
*Like your ex,* my subconscious mind chimed in.
“Oh, shut it,” I muttered, climbing the stairs to the third floor. Carefully, I reached my room and collapsed onto the bed, not bothering to undress. What was the point? For whom would I bother?
I buried my head in the pillow, and thankfully, sleep came quickly.
“What?”
I stood frozen, staring into crystal blue eyes. My fiancée. She had confessed something a moment ago.
“I said, I am taking the pill because I will not ruin this gorgeous body of mine to become your breeding bitch.” She let her hands travel seductively across her ample breasts, down to her curvaceous hips.
“You know as much as I do, that you cannot resist my body.” An alluring smile appeared on her face, forcing me to focus on her mouth. On those pink, full lips which had wrapped around my cock just hours earlier.
“We had this discussion before. When we are getting married, you WILL give birth to my children. I do not solely want an heir; I wish for a bunch of kids.” Like all Italian men in my family.
“For that reason, I might not be the right woman for you.” She pouted her lips, then licked them fast. My cock twitched in my pants at the gesture. Realization hit me hard. She was trying to manipulate me. I had to stop it, before it went further. Before I obeyed her, instead of the other way around.
“Go to your room. You will bear my children. End of discussion.”
She left my office, her hips swaying. Leaving me doubting her feelings for me. She reminded me greatly of my mother.
“You have to get rid of her, *il mio padrino*.” My consigliere’s voice brought me back to reality. Repeating his words in my mind, I knew he was right.
An irritating noise interrupted my dream, leaving me panting in the dark. I grabbed the source of the noise, threw it against the wall. The loud bang was followed by my door being forced open. Two of my men stood in the doorway, guns ready to sacrifice themselves for me. Mario squeezed past them, looked at the mess I created, and sighed.
“Guess you’ll need a new alarm clock. Again.”