I reach for my wine glass and take a sip, letting the taste settle. “I’m sure the… investment opportunities made the decision easier.”
"Well, business is business,” he says with a knowing smile, reaching for his own wine. “But the honest truth is that it’s every father’s dream to see his little girl settle down and start a family of her own.”
I smirk behind my glass, wondering if this father’s dream extends to caring about the kind of man he’s willing to sell his daughter off to. “I see.”
And in truth, I do. I see more than he’s willing to admit out loud.
Giovanni Marino is new money—he built his company from nothing, clawed his way up from humble beginnings. He’s done well for himself, amassed considerable wealth. But moneycan only get you so far. He needs power, the kind that opens doors money cannot. The type of power that my family holds. The power I will possess once I officially become the don of the Rossi family. On his own, Giovanni lacks the tenacity and drive to reach the top of our world, so he needs the power my family holds.
But he has yet another weakness.
He has no sons.
Some may see it as an outdated view but it’s the reality of our world. A world where men hold all the power. My union with his daughter will provide him with the Rossi name and influence to complement his wealth and a guaranteed continuation of his family line through my sons, who will carry both bloodlines. In exchange, he’s paying a substantial dowry and agreeing to several lucrative investment deals that will benefit the Rossi family for years to come.
It's a win-win situation on both sides.
And his daughter gets the security my name provides. Once we marry, Sofia becomes mine and I am known to be very protective of my things. Very possessive.
“It pains me deeply to watch my precious Sofia go but I want to see all my daughters and nieces settled down with families of their own before I die," he says, waving at the other girls seated quietly at the table. I turn to study them. Six girls in total, four of them are his daughters and the other two, the twins, his nieces. They were all introduced earlier, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Sofia Marino long enough to notice them. Now, their heads are downcast—in a show of fear or respect, it's hard to tell—all their focus is on the food in front of them. I always thought a house filled with women would be loud, but it seems I was wrong.
“You’re not going to die,amore mio. Don’t say that!”his wife, Bianca, a woman with blood-red nails, says in an equally dramatic voice, reaching over and patting Giovanni’s hand. "Sofia and all our precious daughters will be happily settled down with babies before our time on this earth ends.”
“You’re right, of course,cara.”
I turn to look at Sofia, whose eyes have shifted to her parents. It seems that she, too, doesn’t buy the show they’re putting on. In all fairness, they're not putting much effort into selling it either. Something akin to sadness in those beautiful green eyes makes me want to reach out and touch her, pull her attention back to me, and assure her that not all arranged marriages are so cold… and performative.
Giovanni needed to marry into an established family when he came to New York—his money alone wasn’t enough. Bianca’s family needed a way into the U.S., connections they didn’t have. None of the influential families would marry their daughters to Giovanni—new money, no pedigree—so he settled for Bianca. A transaction, nothing more.
My own parents' marriage was arranged. A simple girl from southern Italy, brought in to marry a New York don’s son. And yet, theirs was a picture of a perfect marriage. My father took his vows seriously and was devoted to my mother for the twenty years they spent together. They both worked hard to cultivate their love. He lost her right after my sister was born, and he’s not been the same since. After her death, it took him another twenty years to move on, but not completely, no. He’s never forgotten her. I’ve found him talking to her picture when he thought he was alone.
Despite my father’s hopes, my life with Sofia will likely not be a marriage like theirs, but I’ll be damned if we turn into whatever dysfunction exists between her parents.
"Your daughter will be well cared for," I announce, lifting my glass in a toast. Sofia will become mine the second I slide that ring onto her finger and when that happens, no one—not even her father—will touch her. "I promise you that."
All heads turn to me, and Giovanni's laughter booms. "Well then, I would like to toast to that," he says, lifting his own glass and one sharp look has his daughters and nieces raising their own glasses and plastering on forced smiles. "To Sofia and Matteo,” he starts. “Alla vostra felicità!”
“To your happiness, indeed,” Bianca echoes with a smile, and if anyone notices the sheer horror that crosses my future bride's face, then they don't mention it. Instead, they all lift their glasses in a toast. “Salute!”
But I see it.
In the most beautiful eyes of the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, there is fear. The kind of fear I have seen in the eyes of men staring down the barrel of my gun, about to take their last breath. Not once have I felt the need to comfort those people. I felt nothing.
But it’s different with her. I want to reach out and touch her, assure her that I am not the man she clearly thinks I am, except I would be lying. I am exactly the devil everyone claims me to be.
But this beautiful little thing, my soon-to-be wife, has no reason to be scared of me. It irritates and amuses me in equal measures that she is.
If she knew, she’d realize how laughable her fear is; that a girl so sweet and naive already has considerable power over me. No, she doesn't know it yet, but Sofia Marino belongs to me as much as I belong to her.
Saluteindeed!
Chapter Three
Sofia
I’ve heard of runaway brides before, but I never thought that I would seriously consider becoming one. Perhaps my parents anticipated it, hence the reason the bridal suite is far from the emergency exit with two burly men guarding my door.
This is supposed to be the best day of my life, but instead, it feels like the start of a prison sentence, and the guards my parents posted outside aren’t helping ease my nerves either.
