“So, naturally, you have to marry Matteo.” Maria threw her hands up – also not the biggest fan of Zach’s brother.
I gave an incredulous laugh. “As much as I hate admitting it, he’s right. If the Family’s money goes down, so does the Cartel’s.” I swallowed my pride. “Matteo and I… We’ll marry. For a year. Then… We’ll divorce.”
“What about the Cosa Nostra then? Won’t you have the same problem? Also, don’t they want an Italian husband for you?”
I ran an absent hand over my dress, smoothing it out. “No one will question me once I’m Underboss. My family and I will be too powerful. And as for Matteo not being Italian, they actually agreed on that. They think it’ll get them more leverage over the Cartel and drugs coming in.”
“Not a chance,” Zach spoke definitely.
“I know that.”
“So… I guess congratulations are in order?” Natalia raised a brow.
Trevor huffed. “More like condolences.”
Laughter started to ripple again, soft and uncertain. And slowly, the room loosened, returning to birthday energy. But I couldn’t join in. Not yet.
Because even as I stood there, surrounded by friends, the echo of Matteo’s voice lingered in my head.
And I knew this wasn’t the end of the fight – just the beginning.
Because whatever had happened between Matteo and I in Hawaii and Vegas…
It was all over now.
Chapter 18
Present
Long Island, New York City
“NO WAY. IT’S TOO SOON.”
“The longer we put it off, the weaker we look. We already told the others you two have been engaged for six months.”
I turned my head, death glaring at Gìovanni for even daring to speak after getting me into this mess.
“I’m not getting married in two days, Gìo!”
“Why not? This Sunday or the next, same shit.”
“Why are you being such a–”
“Alright. Alright. Both of you, calm down,” Dad cut in. “Francesca, you agreed to move forward with this. Therefore, I expect you to be cooperative and do everything in your power to pull this deal through.”
Taking a deep breath, I decided to keep my mouth shut.
“Now…” Dad clasped his hands on the dark wood desk between us, behind him the view of the city from my family’s penthouse. “How about we ask the groom what he thinks?”
I glared into the side of Matteo’s face. Why did he have to be so… So…
When he turned to look at me, I focused my eyes back on the oak desk in front of us.
He’d flown in from Miami one week ago.
But he didn’t bother to call me.
Not before or after our little spectacle at Zach’s birthday.
