"She'll adjust." I'm getting annoyed now. "Women in our world understand how this works. Tradition exists for a reason."
Paulie's still grinning. "Ah yes, tradition. That magical word that justifies everything."
I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove his opinions when someone announces that the ceremony is about to begin. Everyone starts moving toward the main room where the formal introductions will take place.
"Time to meet your future wife, boss." Paulie claps me on the shoulder. "Try not to screw it up."
"There's nothing to screw up." I follow the crowd. "I meet her, we do the ceremony, we start the forty days. It's all formality."
We file into the main sitting room. It's set up like a small theater, chairs arranged in rows facing a central area where the elder will officiate. Old Tony Greco is already there, ancient and dignified, ready to explain the Forty Days Tradition to everyone who already knows exactly what it entails.
My father catches my eye and nods toward the front. I make my way there, my crew following. This is my show now. Vincent Marcello might still be the Don, but this arrangement is mine. This expansion is mine.
The future is mine.
I take my position at the front, standing where I'm supposed to stand. The families are settling into their seats. Dominic Costa is in the front row, his wife beside him. Hisbrother, Tommaso, and various other Costa family members fill in around them.
Everyone's here.
Except her.
"Where's the bride?" Paulie whispers.
"Don't call her that." Not yet, anyway. "She'll be here."
"You seem confident for a guy who's never met her."
"I've seen her photo." And it was impressive. Dark hair, darker eyes, the kind of beauty that turns heads. "She's beautiful. That's half the battle."
"And the other half?"
"Making sure she understands her role." I cross my arms. "Which shouldn't be difficult. She's Dominic Costa's daughter. She knows how our world works."
Tony Greco clears his throat, calling for attention. The room quiets. He begins his speech about tradition, about family, about the sacred nature of the arrangement we're about to formalize.
I've heard this before. Different family, different arrangement, but the words are always the same. Tradition. Honor. Duty. The pillars of our world.
"The Forty Days Tradition," Tony intones, "is a time-honored practice. For forty days, the couple will spend time together. They will attend family functions. They will be seen in public as a united front. At the end of this period, the man will make his decision."
The man will make his decision. As it should be.
"If he chooses to proceed," Tony continues, "the marriage will take place immediately, and the families will be joined. If he chooses not to proceed, the arrangement is dissolved."
Which isn't going to happen. Why would I walk away from this opportunity? The Costa family controls major shipping routes, legitimate businesses that provide perfect cover for our operations, and connections throughout the city. Combining their empire with ours makes us one of the most powerful families in Italy.
All I have to do is go through the motions of dating Liana Costa for forty days.
"And now," Tony says, "we welcome the bride-to-be."
Everyone turns toward the entrance. I follow their gaze.
The room goes quiet. Waiting.
Then I see movement at the top of the stairs.
And Liana Costa appears.
The air shifts. Every eye in the room locks on her as she stands there, poised at the top of the staircase. The photos didn't do her justice. Not even close.
