Vicious (3) (Patreon)

Author's note: Happy New Years! I hope you all had a great time with you families and get some rest! Happy reading!

word count 2.5K

The room buzzed with a low hum of whispered conversations as the weight of Arthur's will settled upon the gathered assembly. Harry, typically composed, found himself grappling with a surge of emotions that threatened to breach the surface. Outrage smoldered beneath his stoic exterior, fueled by the unexpected clause that dictated his marital fate.

"Enough!" Harry's voice sliced through the room, a thunderous command that silenced the discussions like a sudden clap of thunder. His eyes blazed with an intensity that mirrored the storm within him. "Everyone, leave. Except Mr. Reynolds."

The men, sensing the gravity of the situation, filed out of the room with a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. As the door closed behind them, leaving only Harry's most trusted friends and the family attorney, a charged silence hung in the air.

Harry paced the room, his frustration palpable. He turned to Mr. Reynolds, his jaw clenched. "Is there any way around this, any loophole we can exploit? There has to be something."

Mr. Reynolds, a seasoned attorney who had navigated the intricate legalities of the family for decades, met Harry's gaze with a mix of empathy and realism. "I've reviewed the will thoroughly, Harry. Your father's conditions are explicit. To inherit the leadership of the English Mafia, you must fulfill the marriage clause."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, his desperation bubbling to the surface. "There has to be another way. I can't just accept this. Why would he had wanted to force me into an arrange marriage? "

His closest men exchanged uneasy glances, aware of the weight of their boss's predicament. The air in the room grew heavy with the burden of tradition, obligation, and the tangled legacies that bound the family.

Mr. Reynolds spoke carefully, "I understand your frustration, Harry, but the legal avenues are limited. Your father's will is a binding document, and to contest it would invite unnecessary complications."

Harry, his frustration unabated, slammed his fist onto the desk. "I won’t marry. There has to be a way to negotiate”.

The room, bathed in the warm glow of dim lighting, served as an impromptu council chamber. Lex and Charlie, flanking Harry's side, exchanged glances laden with a shared history of camaraderie. The atmosphere was charged with an air of urgency as Harry, seated behind the mahogany desk, contemplated the weight of his father's will.

Alexander Turner or Lex, an imposing figure with an aura of controlled intensity, stood tall beside Harry. His sharp features and piercing green eyes bore witness to the challenges he had weathered over the years in the service of the Styles’ family. Born into a legacy of organized crime, Lex's loyalty was forged through shared experiences and a sense of duty that transcended familial ties.

On the other side of the desk, Charlie exuded a quiet confidence befitting his role as the financial mind of the English Mafia. Dressed in a meticulously tailored suit, he carried an air of sophistication that belied the shrewd calculations beneath the surface.

All three were young, but they were the new generations of the family. Alexander and Charles fathers had served Arthur until their last day. They had diligently trained their sons just like Arthur had shaped Harry into the man that he was.

The door closed behind Mr. Reynolds, leaving the trio alone in the room. Lex broke the tense silence, his voice a low rumble. "Harry, negotiating with Federico Castellano is a dangerous game. The man is not known for compromise, especially when it comes to matters of family and honor.”

Charlie, his gaze fixed on Harry, added, "And marrying Y/N Castellano might be the most pragmatic solution. It not only secures the alliance but also ensures a smoother transition of power. Your father knew the importance of alliances in our world.”

Harry, frustrated and conflicted, leaned back in his father's chair. "I won't be forced into a marriage, especially one that feels like a strategic move. I need a way out of this without sacrificing my autonomy."

Lex, his loyalty unwavering, stepped forward. "Harry, sometimes sacrifice is necessary. This whole shit thrives on alliances, and Castellano is not someone you want as an adversary."

Charlie nodded in agreement. "Your father foresaw the challenges ahead. Perhaps this marriage is a way to strengthen the bonds that hold the English Mafia together. It's about survival, Harry. The last thing you want is the Italian’s bagging on your door within the first month as the boss”.

Lex began, his eyes locking with Harry's. "Marrying Y/N doesn't mean you have to let it affect your personal life. You can keep that separate. It's just a strategic alliance on paper.”

Harry regarded Lex with a furrowed brow, unsure of the path his closest friend was suggesting.

Lex continued, "Think about it, Harry.  Marrying Y/N is a small price to pay for securing the future of the English Mafia. It doesn't mean you have to care for her or be faithful. It's just a marriage on paper, a symbol of unity."

Charlie, though quieter by nature, nodded in agreement. "He's right, Harry. It's about securing your positions and ensuring stability”.

Harry, caught between the legacy he inherited and the desire for autonomy, rubbed his temples. "It's not that simple. Marrying on paper might be one thing, but it's not just about appearances. It's about what that marriage represents, the expectations it carries."

Lex placed a firm hand on Harry's shoulder. “We're suggesting you play the game strategically, like your father did."

Harry, grappling with conflicting emotions, took a deep breath. Sacrifices had to be made.

The grandeur of the manor loomed ahead, its imposing facade a testament to the legacy of power that resided within its walls. The air was thick with anticipation as Y/N Castellano, accompanied by her father, Federico Castellano, approached the entrance. It had been five days since Arthur’s funeral. Harry had taken five days to digest the news before calling the Italians.

Y/N, a vision of sophistication and poise, carried herself with an air of quiet strength. Her hair cascaded in elegant waves around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with striking features. Her eyes, a deep shade, held a gaze that betrayed both intelligence and resilience. Dressed in a tasteful ensemble that accentuated her grace, she exuded a timeless beauty that mirrored the allure of the English aristocracy.

Federico, a seasoned figure in the world of organized crime, stood by his daughter's side with an air of stoicism. His graying hair and sharp features spoke of years spent navigating the intricate web of alliances and conflicts. The Castellano patriarch, clad in a tailored suit, bore the weight of responsibility with a demeanor that mirrored the unyielding nature of the Italian Mafia.

"Y/N," Federico's voice cut through the silence, cold and devoid of warmth. "This union is not a matter to be taken lightly. You will behave precisely as I expect, and failure is not an option."

Y/N, her eyes meeting her father's, felt a chill in the air as he continued, "You are a Castellano, and our reputation is paramount. If you fuck that reputation in any way, I will ensure the consequences are severe."

Federico's gaze bore into hers with an intensity that made her shudder. "Do you comprehend the gravity of this, Y/N? The Styles may seem like allies, but make no mistake, they will exploit any weakness."

He took a step closer, his tone lowering to a threatening whisper. "Should you embarrass the Castellano name, I won't hesitate to make an example of you. There are ways to deal with those who fail to uphold the family honor."

Y/N, her composure wavering under the weight of her father's words, managed a nod. Federico, unsatisfied with the gesture, continued with a more sinister edge to his voice, "I have spent a lifetime building our family's power. I will not tolerate your incompetence jeopardizing everything we've achieved."

He leaned in, his breath chilling against Y/N's ear as he uttered words that sent a shiver down her spine. "Remember, blood ties can be severed. Fail me, and you'll find out just how disposable family can be."

“Yes father” She simply responded, too scared to object.

As they were escorted into the manor, Harry awaited in a room adorned with opulent furnishings and subdued lighting. The air, charged with a delicate tension, carried the weight of unspoken expectations.

"Y/N, Mr. Castellano, welcome," Harry greeted with a nod, gesturing for them to take a seat.

Y/N's eyes flickered with a blend of curiosity and reserve as she took in the surroundings. Her father, a man of few words, inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"Thank you for having us, Styles," Federico replied, his voice carrying the authority of a seasoned leader.

Seated across from each other, the conversation turned to the logistics of the impending union. The delicate dance of negotiations unfolded, each party navigating the intricacies of a strategic alliance.

“I think it’s best to get this wedding out of the way. Don’t you think, Styles?” Federico asked as he reached out for the whiskey that he had been served. “I am sure that you want to claim your rightful place as the new boss”.

Harry found himself caught in a web of conflicting desires. On one hand, the prospect of the approaching wedding loomed, a duty to fulfill for the sake of family alliances. Yet, the allure of remaining single a bit longer tugged at him, whispering promises of freedom and unbridled pursuits.

There were things on his agenda, a few weeks of bachelorhood he wished to savor, experiences he yearned to indulge in before the weight of matrimony settled upon him. Harry knew well that once he tied the knot with Y/N, the whispers within the family would be relentless. The constraints of a committed relationship, especially with a woman like Y/N, hinted at the end of his carefree liaisons.

Observing her since her arrival, Harry noted a certain submissive demeanor in Y/N. Whenever her father intervened, her voice would fall silent, a quiet agreement to authority. In some strange way, Harry found himself drawn to this quality. The idea of having a partner who willingly yielded to his control aligned with his inclination for dominance.

"In a month," Harry finally responded, his eyes briefly glancing down at his watch. "It would give everyone enough time to prepare."

"I agree," Federico replied tersely, "If you'll excuse me, I need to use the restroom."

As Federico left the room, Y/N felt a weight lift from her shoulders. Her father's threats lingered in the air, but for the moment, she could breathe a bit more freely. She was acutely aware of his penchant for action, and the gravity of his warnings weighed heavily on her.

"I'm sorry about all of this," Y/N finally spoke, breaking the silence. "I'm sure the last thing you want is to get married to a complete stranger."

"Don't," Harry raised his hand, cutting her off before she could say anything more. "Let's get this straight from the beginning. We aren't friends, and we will never be. Let alone have any kind of relationship.”

Y/N, though taken aback, maintained a composed exterior. Although after a she had processed the words that had just come out of his mouth, she was ready to speak.

“Wow! You really are what they say.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. "And what is that?"

"A selfless asshole with no heart."

“Precisely” Harry's gaze hardened as he delivered a cold response, his tone devoid of emotion. “The only connection I'm open to having with you is purely for pleasure.”

"Pleasure?" Y/N giggled, a condescending smile playing on her lips. "You are more pathetic than I thought if you believe that I would just jump in bed with you.”

Harry was surprised. She wasn't as submissive as he had assumed; her demeanor was simply a façade, a reflection of her fear of her father. A flicker of intrigue crossed his eyes — a challenge that piqued his interest. It wasn't merely about breaking her; it was about unraveling the layers that shielded her true nature.

"Everyone breaks. It's just a matter of time, pet," he said confidently, a sinister edge to his words. "Once we are married, you are all mine, and I'll be able to do whatever I want with you." His voice carried a dark certainty, a proclamation of dominance that echoed in the tense space between them.

Federico eventually returned, and Y/N fell into a silent watchfulness. Her eyes, however, never left Harry's, a determination burning within them. She was resolute in her commitment to prove him wrong. Despite her willingness to be friends and genuinely get to know him, Harry's overwhelming ego had created an impenetrable barrier, leaving her disappointed.

Y/N had approached this arrangement with hope and openness, praying that her husband would be different from her father, that she could finally break free from the suffocating constraints of her family's expectations. She had wished for a chance at freedom, a life unburdened by the shadows of her past. However, Harry's demeanor shattered those hopes, leaving her grappling with the harsh reality of her circumstances. The prospect of marriage now loomed as a prison rather than a pathway to the liberation she had yearned for.

The sudden intrusion of the door swinging open shattered the fragile peace. A figure, disheveled and agitated, burst into the room, his eyes wide with urgency. The men gathered around the desk turned their attention to the unexpected visitor.

"Harry," the man stammered, breathless from the urgency of his news.

Harry's brows furrowed as he rose from his chair. "What's going on?"

The man took a moment to catch his breath and approached him before delivering the unsettling revelation in a hushed tone. "Someone's took your father’s body out of the grave. We caught the bastard before he could do anything to the body, and he's in the back room. You need to see this."

“I must take care of this” Harry, his jaw tight with restrained anger, nodded sharply. "Take me to him." Harry wasn’t going to apologize to the family. He had priorities and discussing where is wedding was going to take place wasn't one of them. Harry left Federico and Y/N to fend for themselves.

The group hurried through the corridors of the manor, the sense of foreboding growing with each step. The back room, usually reserved for private meetings, now harbored an unexpected intruder.

As they reached the room, the door swung open to reveal a figure, bound and battered. The man, with fear in his eyes, glanced up as Harry entered.

"What the hell is this?" Harry demanded, his voice a low growl.

The informant stepped forward, explaining, "We found him defacing the grave. Seems he's got some personal grudge against your father."

Harry's gaze bore into the intruder. "Who are you, and who sent you?”

The man, battered and broken, spat out a defiant response. "Fuck off”.

Harry smiled, savoring the reaction he had just elicited from the man. The flicker of fear in his eyes only fueled Harry's determination, validating his next course of action. In his mind, the man's response justified what he was about to do next. He wasn't merely seeking compliance; he intended to break him, to reduce him to a point where he would beg for the mercy of a swift end.

"Take him to the dungeon," Harry commanded, the words carrying an air of cold authority. The ominous directive hung in the air, a prelude to the torment that awaited the unfortunate man. As the guards moved forward to carry out the order, Harry's smile widened, fueled by the anticipation of the power he held over those who dared to challenge him.