|Zaviero|

"HAVE YOU SEEN the news, sir?"

"If it's not business, it has no business with me." My tone is dry as I stare at New York's sunrise, its splendid rays, a beautiful shade that tints the clouds orange.

"I'll take that as a no," my personal assistant hesitates then clears his throat and replies, "It's about you, sir."

"Now, Antonio, you know very well that the tabloid publishes fake news about me everyday," Wrenching my eyes away from the window, I glance at my watch, impatient to get going and it reflects in my voice, "Vai avanti, I don't have the patience for this."

"I'm sorry, sir, I'll just get on with it then." The rustle of flipped papers meets my ears. "According to Il Tempo Italiano, your mother told the press you were getting married in a month. To a Miss Elena Giordano."

Cazzo! I curse my mother and fiance to hell and back, but I don't say the word aloud, reeling in that stoic control I am infamous for at my workplace. Pretending to be unfazed, I ask, "Anything else important?"

There's no sound from my phone's speaker until a tiny voice urges, "Sir, will you not respond to the press or at least, deny the claims?"

"Anything else, Antonio?" This time, there is a hard edge in my tone.

He notices because his next words proceed in a nervous stammer, "E-e-ehm... okay..." then, "Si, sir, si. Back to business. Things are not exactly looking good back here. Because your company's stocks are high, sir, some investors are already pulling out. Even Mr. Diamante, the man who wanted to fund the charity gala for Lovelace Orphanage has canceled his offer. He gave no reason why. Also, Mr. Field's assistant called again. She wants you to schedule a meeting with him."

Cazzo! Cazzo! Cazzo! Irate, my fingers curl around the phone at the disturbing news. "Vedo. I'm a busy man and that meeting won't be happening anytime soon. As for the company's problems, forward the files to me. I'll see to them today."

"Alright, sir. Will do, sir."

"Good. And, Antonio?

"Yes sir?"

"No more disturbance on your part. I will not be receiving any more calls until evening." Abruptly, I click off, not giving him the time to mention anything else.

Inserting the phone inside my inner pocket, I veer towards the mirror to fix up my attire. Cold, bleary silver eyes, rooted in a stoic face, gaze back at me. I'm still in my black suit, unable to sleep at the prospect of finally meeting my bride.

For a brief second, I consider changing out of the rumpled, blood stained shirt and wear a freshly ironed one but I don't have time. Besides, I admonish myself, I am not here to impress Kaira. The earlier she sees me for who I am, the better for her.

Deftly, I remove the suit and tuck my tie securely, hiding the necklace she'd gifted me years ago, behind it. As I do this, I recall how my family company, De Santis Sea Transport Corporation, has been going downhill recently. Too many things happening all at once. The guns. The stocks. Mr. Diamante pulling out. It all seems connected. Someone out there is messing with my business: both official and unofficial.

Not for long though.

Pressing my lips into a grim line, I take one last glance at the mirror, already pinning a mental reminder to ask Caelian whether the guns have been found yet. Then, I leave the suite, heading for Kaira. She'd been meant to stay inside my room, but on second thoughts, my men had placed her inside a guest room, one that wasn't so heavily weaponized like mine.

As I walk closer, anticipation fizzes in my veins, sharp and heady. Kidnapping Kaira wasn't part of my plan. Di niente! I had been in the club to oversee a shady importation, when my eyes locked on her curvy body. Like a thirsty man starving in the desert, I'd drunk in her beautiful features and my plans had changed, escpecially seeing the fool dancing along with her. No one was touching what was mine.

Now, I halt at the locked entrance, heart pounding fast. This is it. The long awaited day is here. No more waiting in the shadows for her, always watching but never touching what is mine.

Sucking in a deep breath, I unlock the door and push it open.

There's no one inside.

I stare at the empty room, a frown etched between my brows. Dov'è lei?

Immediately, I dial Aldo's number on my phone. "Where is she?!"

He picks up on the first ring. "We couldn't find her, Don, but there's another lady we captured with the exact description you gave us. We found her and a man at the crime scene so we took them in. They are in detention now."

"Cazzo!" My blood runs hot, rage tightening my voice into a snarl, "Take me to her right now!"

Aldo shows up straight away and directs me towards a secluded part of my mansion: the place where I keep unwanted guests.

"Wait outside," I order coldly, once we stand outside the room. Rage coils underneath my skin, piping hot. I might hate Kaira but this environment isn't fit for the woman I intend to marry.

Aldo steps aside. "Yes, Don. Before you go in, may I ask what are we to do with the other guy?"

I don't look at him, my jaw screaming from how hard I clench it. "Kill him once he has been questioned for anything he knows."

"Si, Don."

The second my shoe steps inside the room, a white Air Jordan darts towards me. Years of dodging my mother's slippers has honed my instincts so I duck in time, the shoe whizzing past my head.

"Heartless beasts! Take that!" Another Air Jordan flies in my direction. Again, I shift to the side.

"Merda! Woman, stop throwing your shoes at me!" I growl but the tall woman clad in jeans and tank top, is too busy raging.

"And this too!" Was that a pillow or a crumpled bed sheet in her hands? I don't have time to second guess, only a chance to save my head.

"Mio Dio! I said stop—"

"Idiots! I'll have you know that my parents own half of New York and won't stop searching for me." Her face is lowered, her fingers making contact with the bedside lamp. "Take this as well, anumanu!"

"No! Don't–" But the lamp is already hurtling through the air at breakneck speed. Again, I dodge quickly, the object smashing onto the wall behind me, and splintering into chunky pieces.

"You bastards may have me in your clutches but I won't die without a fight!" She hasn't raised her head yet and it's obvious that despite hearing my voice, she still doesn't recognize me. The fact threads a burning stitch in my heart.

Taking quick strides, I head in her direction, fists balled. I have to act fast before this hellbent woman destroys my property.

Before she can grab the tiny mirror situated next to the mini wardrobe, I yank her hands away and pull her forward. The faint scent of lavender teases my nostrils. Lush and inviting.

"Asshole! Get your dirty, stinking hands off me!" She struggles, raising her knees upright to target my groin. Just as she kicks them up, I lock my arms around hers, her soft chest falling against mine.

In a soft tone that belies the fierce emotions raging through me, I advise, "The harder you struggle, the longer I get to hold you."

"Too bad because I'm pretty sure your hands aren't made of steel. They will get tired!" Kaira yells loudly, upper body flailing wild to escape my tight hold.

Suppressing a tiny smile at her determination, I say, "May the best man or woman win then."

"Jerk!"

For the next few minutes, she pushes, jostles and does everything devious she can to gain freedom. Through this all, I maintain my rigid stance, caging her.

With a huge sigh, Kaira finally admits defeat by slumping forward against my shirt. A low voice devoid of any anger and frustration like before, reaches my ears, "Whoever paid you to do this is heartless. I'm sleep deprived and tired. My entire body hurts and I just want to go home. Is it too much to ask?"

Silence reigns. When I say or do nothing, her almost bare shoulders quake gently, weak whimpers filling the quiet room. Is she sobbing?

For some weird reason, the realization that it's my fault she's sobbing, leaves a bitter taste in my mouth and I raise her chin up. The second I do, it feels like someone just kicked me in the gut. A bruise the size of my fist, paints her right jaw, red.

Assolutamente no, cazzo! Cradling her cheeks gently in my palms, I fire questions at her, "Who did this to you?! Who hurt you, Kaira?! Tell me!"

Teary, brown eyes widen in realization and a whisper so soft escapes her plump lips, "Z?"

Z? The sound of my shortened name through her lips fills me with acute nostalgia. I shut my eyes, memories of our childhood flashing through my mind in rapid succession.

Her, ruffling my hair every chance she got. Me, teaching her how to play the grand piano she'd always admired. Us linking hands, laughing as we wreaked havoc during our escapades while in Nigeria. Our. . . I blink my eyes open, halting those thoughts.

Kaira's gaze is still roving over my facial features, recognition pooling in their chocolate depths as she asks again, "Z? Is it really you?"

"Sì, Kaira. Sono davvero io. . ." I let my voice trail off, angry at myself for being sorely affected. I only speak Italian when I am nervous, angry, excited or conversing with Italian investors. Speaking it, especially in front of the woman who betrayed me, irks me badly and I snap, "Yes, it's really me, Kaira! Now, tell me, who hu–"

"Christ, of course, it's you. Only one person I know speaks fast Italian when he's angry or nervous." The tears are gone and she smiles, immune to my rash response. Again, I am entranced by how her entire face glows up like the sun. "When you entered the room and I heard you speak, I thought it was you but I realized, there was no way. I mean, being kidnapped and all, maybe my imagination was being too active. But it's you, Z! It's really you in the flesh, right in front of me!"

Excitement punctuates her sentences as she lifts a hand to my face. Slowly, like I could disappear if she doesn't savor this moment, she traces her fingers over my cheeks, brows and eyes.

"Your eyes, Z." Her lilting voice is soft, same as the fingers that caress me. "Do they still see colors when you play?"

I only nod, turned to stone, watching her study my features. Even though I want to rebel and fling her arms away, another stupid part of me doesn't want to break the spell. Rather, I grab the opportunity to also see how my ex-best friend has fared through the years.

The years were kind, my little Kai-Kai is all grown up. She is still as beautiful as when I first met her. Ethereal. The only difference is, unlike the childish roundness of her teen age, her face is more mature. Naturally arched brows slants in wistfulness as she drags her knuckles down my skin. . .

"Who would have known I would be crying in your arms again? Yet, here we are." It's almost like she's talking to herself so I don't intervene. I just continue piecing the memories of a young Kaira with this older one touching me.

I'd pulled many strings, kept tabs on her for years. Met her many times, with her being unaware. But never up this close. If I had, I would not be so enthralled by the silky, dewy nature of her own skin, sepia. Brown and inked with golden undertones. Then, her long, black lashes, which frame her high cheekbones, and the beauty spot by the corner of her lovely, moist lips. Lips that beg me to lower my head and kiss—

"Your mouth, so soft yet firm. . ." She traces the outline of my lips with a thumb. Instantly, unwanted desire sparks beneath my skin, attuned to her touch. Fuck! Not now!

I clear my throat. "Kaira. . ."

She jerks her hand off immediately, and tucks a black loc behind her ear, abashed. "I'm sorry. You caught me off guard, Z. It's been nine, no, ten years since we last. . ." Suddenly she stops talking as her gaze narrows. "What the fuck am I doing?! They got you too, didn't they?!"

She doesn't give me a chance to reply. Her eyes flit down to my stained shirt and back at me, worry swimming in her expression."Is that blood I see? Oh my God, are you wounded? Fuck, and I was here looking at you like we're not in danger. When will you learn to be serious, Kaira?" She hits her forehead in self-beration and before I can even begin to explain, she starts to drag me towards the door.

Speechless, I force my legs to move, stunned. This woman who didn't even reach to my shoulders, was chirping and worried for me? How could she be the same person I'd carved in my memory and yet, different? Where was the girl who'd made my heart bleed?

Unaware of where my mind is headed, Kaira rattles on, "I needed someone to rescue me but I didn't say they should bleed to death while doing it. You're lucky I'm a medicine student, Z, so don't worry. I'll clean the blood off and bandage you properly. We just need to escape. But first, we have to rescue that idiot, Greg if we can. Which reminds me, Greg and I saw these kidnappers kill someone and they can come in any moment now to kill us."

Abruptly, she pauses and cocks her head at me. Confusion shines in her stare. "Wait, how did they get you too? And how did they know we know each other?"

It's laughable that she believes I am here to rescue her. Before I can reply, the door creaks open. Kaira stiffens and surreptitiously leans into me. A feeling I don't recognize erupts in my chest and I wind my arm around her tiny waist.

Aldo pops his head in. "Is everything alright, Don?"

"Don?" Kaira's glare drills into my skull but I ignore it and focus on Aldo who observes us with a surprised gaze.

"No. Nothing is alright." I fix him with a dark glower and revert to Italian, "Questa è la donna che volevo portassi qui, ma hai sbagliato tutto e le hai fatto del male."

The big man bows his neck in remorse. "Mi dispiace profondamente, Don. Non succederà più."

Kaira's glare drills even deeper. "Z, what are you guys saying? Punch him in the face so we can escape."

Overlooking her statement, I gently brush my thumb against her cheeks, almost sure that the tattoos on my fingers will leave a dark stain on her untainted skin. "Who was the bastardo that hit her?"

"Lorenzo. He brought her in."

I nod grimly and force my sight away from her face. Gazing at the red mark fills me with red hot anger. If there's anyone to bruise her, it should have been me, during the height of our passion. "He will pay with his blood. Take him down and gather the men. I think it's time to teach everyone a little lesson."

Aldo nods to leave but I halt him, ice creeping in my command. "Also, this will be the very last time you come inside whenever you're not ordered to."

"Intenso, Don." My trusted aide inclines his head and leaves, the door shutting with a click.

"What's going on, Z? Why am I here? What are you doing here? That man, who was he? I don't understand." A deep vee forms between her brows, her captivating eyes willing me to make her understand.

I look down at her, fury making my voice deceptively soft. "I see you're still as inquisitive as ever, Kaira. But fret not, you will know everything soon enough. I too am unpredictable as ever."

***

I see the music once I hear it.

Hues of red, orange and black curls and swirls around the legs of the ten men standing before me as Symphony no. 5 drifts from the speaker. A tradition passed down from my father; killing traitors as classical music plays in the background.

We are in the soundproof basement of my New York mansion. Luminous rays from the bulb are trained on everyone, with me standing next to the edge of the table and Kaira sitting. Her perplexed face is riveted in my direction, the bruise on her jaw so prominent, volts of rage charges down my spine. Just like the red notes I see drifting in the air.

I shift my focus away from the colors as the song plays, and rest it on my men. In a quiet but authoritative voice, I speak, "One of you dared to lay a hand on my woman."

Kaira gasps at the word my, while the well trained men that serve me merely look on, expressions stoic. Lorenzo, who stands aside, looks askance, as if trying to understand why he is in isolation.

"And today, I will show you all what happens to those who break the rule. Aldo."

"Si, Don?" He emerges from the group of smartly dressed thugs in suits.

"What is our slogan?"

"Veniamo. Noi lottiamo. Conquistiamo. Il sangue è il nostro colore. Il peccato, la nostra ombra. Giustizia, nostro fratello. Per la famiglia, daremo la caccia, uccideremo e proteggeremo finché non sarà esaurita l'ultima goccia del nostro sangue. Ma nonostante tutto questo, una donna non verrà mai danneggiata."

As he declares the words with soulful conviction, I state the English translation in my mind, "We come. We fight. We conquer. Blood is our color. Sin, our shadow. Justice, our brother. For the family, we shall hunt, kill and protect till the very last drop of our blood drains out. But through this all, our women shall never be harmed."

It is an ageless pledge that has been echoed through time immemorial. Sacred. Right from when the De Santis dynasty were anointed kings of the jungle centuries ago.

"Repeat it again," I instruct.

Aldo does and all is silent until I call, "Lorenzo."

A tall, muscular man dressed in a similar black suit, like all his colleagues answers, "Si, Don?"

"You know quello della famiglia pledge by heart, right?"

"Si, Don."

"Good. Do you believe you have kept to the pledge?" Outwardly, my expression is the epitome of neutrality while inwards, I wrestle to confine the animal prowling at the edge of my unraveling sanity.

He shakes his buzz cut head. "Yes, Don."

"Vedo. Say it."

He recites the words, his tone shaky when he gets to the last part. Good, he's catching on.

"In your last sentence, you said, our women shall never be touched, right?"

Nervous, his throat bobs, squinting eyes darting towards Kaira and back at me. "Yes, Don."

"But you raised your hands at her, no?" My voice is as soft as butter, masking the true intention I have for him.

Lorenzo licks his thin lips, swallows then answers, "It was not intentional, Don. She and the other guy were at the scene of the crime. When I saw she wanted to escape, I had to—"

"Hit her on the face," I complete the sentence for him and cock a sardonic brow. "Now, Lorenzo, you say you're familiar with the vows of la famiglia but you still broke one of its core rules. Leaving a woman unharmed."

"Don. . ."

I raise an uninterested palm. "On your knees."

He hesitates. A very huge mistake on his part.

Nodding my head at Aldo, I instruct him to act. Immediately, he directs painful kicks on Lorenzo's legs. The tall man flies down and his body collapse in an undignified heap on the ground.

I crook a finger at Bernardo, another one of my henchmen. He moves forward to assist Aldo in holding down a struggling Lorenzo.

Dun dun dun dun. Ludwig Van Beethoven plays his heart out while red skirts around Lorenzo like a lover, the sinister urge to kill flowing in my veins.

Eager to heed that urge, I grab one of the daggers laid out on the table. "Lorenzo. Lorenzo. Lorenzo. Quante volte ti ho chiamato?"

"Three times, Don." His head lolls, his chest falling and rising slowly. Terror pollutes the air.

"Right." I stalk closer, twirling the knife. Light glints off the blade. "Humour me, Lorenzo and tell me what we do to those who break the rules?"

His voice is a dreadful whisper, "They die."

I nod in acquiescence. "Do you think you deserve to die?"

"No." He shakes his head, sweat beading on forehead. This time, he is the color blue, stinking of fear. "No, Don, I am sorry. Please. . ."

"Not another word from you." I turn to the emotionless men standing a few feet away. "Seguaci della famiglia De Santis, do you think he deserves to die?"

"Yes, Don," they chorus in montones.

"Why?"

"He broke the rules. He's a traitor..." One by one, they each give their reasons. Assuming an outsider was watching, they would believe these men who'd sworn fealty to me, had no sense of compassion but this is how they, including me, were all trained. To never question the will of the leader.

I shoot Lorenzo a Cheshire cat smile. Satisfied and chilling. "Lorenzo, you hear them, don't you? They say you deserve to die and I agree. But I will ask for the opinion of one last person."

Circling to my future wife, I ask, "Kaira. Do you agree with my men?"

She bobs her head frantically. No. "Z, you're scaring me. What are you doing?"

"Answer the damn question, woman!" I bark and thump a fist on the table, my cool splintering into cracks. "Does he deserve death?!"

Her upper body jerks backwards, a horrified expression present on her features. "No, he doesn't deserve to die."

Scowling, I slant down to her seated position and place the blunt edge of the blade on her wounded jaw. She shivers.

In a silky voice that betrays my lust for blood, I taunt, "But, darling, it hurts, doesn't it?"

The vein by her throat pulses fast. She's scared. "Yes."

"I thought as much. Aldo, shoot him."

The cocking of a gun rents the air.

"No, wait!" Kaira dashes up, the chair falling to the ground. She rushes to my position and grasps my free hand. "Please, Z, don't kill him!"

I raise the knife at Aldo. He lowers the gun.

"Then why spare him?" I tip her trembling chin up and stroke the mark ruining her flesh. "Surely you see the error of his ways. He put his stinking hands on you and for that, his penalty is death. And death without torture is a merciful punishment, if I say so myself."

"No, that's a ruthless way of looking at what he did. Lorenzo," She points at him, her brown eyes gleaming with tears, "was merely doing his job so Z, I beg of you, please don't do this. Don't kill him."

Why was she even fighting for someone who had hurt her? I cock my head to the side and pin a curious gaze at her. Of all the people that the music rests on, only hers is tinged white. A symbolism for the purity that shines from her very pores.

My lips curl in a cynical twist at the thought. "There's always a price for everything, including life. Men pay millions for power and knowledge. And a wiser one would kill to know even your silliest thoughts." I pause then, "Kaira, if I do as you say, what do I stand to gain in return?"

She strengthens her spine and looks straight into my eyes, voice resolute. "Whatever you ask of me, Z. Just don't have his blood on your hands. Please."

For a moment, I am frozen, beguiled by the glimmer of her watery gaze. Bewitching yet pleading and I find a tiny part of my frozen heart thawing at that guileless look.

"I will not kill him then." My voice comes out softer than I intend them to as hope flares in her eyes. Quick, I let my fingers fall away from her velvety skin and whirl around. Meeting her stare had proved too much for me and I have to physically shrug the feeling away before I prowl towards Lorenzo, who has a gun aimed at his head.

He still owes me a pound of flesh.

Without uttering a sound, I arch and strike the dagger down. Lorenzo screams in anguish as his finger is severed, blood spurting out of a reddish stump.

"No! Z! You gave me your word!" Kaira yells. I don't need to crane my neck to see her struggling against the men holding her captive.

"I did but I never said anything about not hurting him."

That is the last sentence I speak for the next two minutes. In a blood haze, so potent, it consumes me, I cut off all his fingers on his right hand and proceed to the other. As I do so, Lorenzo jerks and shakes, roaring continuously. He and Kaira's howls, mingles with the notes floating around.

Crescendo. The music surrounds me, feeding my vision with rage. It's like a brother, welcoming me with open arms and I accept. Its violent mixture of orange, red and black hues envelopes me, a consuming fire set to destroy whatever stood in its way. The symphony of death.

Decresendo. I slice his last pinkie off and the colors fade into the air, receding as the song ends. It is finished.

I wipe the blood that drips off my knife with a cloth torn from his shirt. Then I let both objects clatter to the floor littered with bleeding body parts. "Lorenzo is, henceforth, no longer part of la famiglia. He has already lost a needed requirement. Take him out."

Two men drag Lorenzo's unconscious body out, blood from his knuckles leaving a trail.

Then, I signal to the remaining men to leave, including those who'd offered a temporary prison for Kaira. Once they disappear, Kaira rushes towards me.

Tears glisten in her eyes as she grabs me by the collar. "I trusted you to do the right thing but you cut off his fingers!" She blanches at the sight of the blood stuck to my wrist and withdraws her touch as if disgusted. "You cut off his fucking fingers as I watched. Without any care. No sympathy. Just you slicing it off like it's damn sausages. Who are you? Where is my Z?!"

"That was your first mistake, trusting me. You should have never trusted me Kaira, not now, not ev. . ." I growl but she interrupts, her locs swaying in disbelief, "Don't! Don't you dare say my name like you didn't just mutilate someone right in front of me."

A polished nail is pinned at me, quivering with all the strength of her fury. "You know, I thought for a second that I was wrong and what happened in our past was all a huge misunderstanding. But now, I see how delusional I was. And I don't know what changed in you during all those years but the truth remains plain as day! You're still that same monster I knew you as, Zaviero De Santis!"

You're still that same monster I knew you as, Zaviero De Santis!

Once that sentence leaves her lips, my heart squeezes onto itself, and I suddenly wish to hurt her just as she has.

Shifting close until there's hardly any space between us, I cup her cheeks and wipe the tears off her cheeks with a blood stained finger. She yanks her face away but I grip her cheeks tighter, driving my thumb deeper into her smooth flesh.

Ice pours from her stare, chilling and glacial as I force her to hold my gaze. But I don't care, vengeance and ruin sings to me so I lower my lips to her ear and whisper eleven words that will change her life forever, "And you, cara mia, are the future bride of a monster."

Kaira whips her head back, mouth rounded in an o, the blood drained out of her face. "Your what?!"

A/N: Looking at me publishing on a school day!!! Yay, a month and 22 days, I published another chapter! I did it! Thank God! Also, sorry for not publishing since. Hopefully, I'll be more consistent this time around.

Guys, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter! The dynamics, tension and drive between Kaira and Zaviero had me in my FEELINGSSSS! I cannot wait to write the next chapter, even though I don't know how it's going to be. But I trust in God and myself!!

Also, people! Zaviero is not your ordinary Italian mafia Don. Mhmm. He has a disorder, synesthesia and can see colors whenever he hears music! Amazing isn't it?!

Anyways, what dyu think of Zaviero? I'm so eager to know so please leave your comments in the section to let me know what you thought!

Love, Nita.

P.s: These translations were obtained from Google as I cannot speak Italian. Hence, if anyone who can speak it, sees any mistake in the structure of any Italian sentences, please let me know, xoxo.

Translations:

Vai avanti- Get on with it.
Si- Yes.
Vedo- I see.
Di niente!- Not at all.
Dov'è lei?- Where is she?
Assolutamente no, cazzo!- No fucking way!
Questa è la donna che volevo portassi qui, ma hai sbagliato tutto e le hai fatto del male.- This is the woman I wanted you to bring in but you messed it up and got her hurt.
Mi dispiace profondamente, Don. Non succederà più. - I am deeply sorry, boss. It will not happen again.
Mi spiace per il disguido.- Sorry for the mix up.
Intenso.- Understood.
Quante volte ti ho chiamato?- How many times did I call you?