“Your place is by my side,learningto be a good leader, not throwing temper tantrums like a little boy. Perhaps giving you a wife was a mistake. The new responsibility has certainly gone to your head,” he snaps. “Maybe we should give her back, since she’s no use to us anyway. You can get married to a good Italian wife when the time is right.”
Hysterical laughter bubbles up from my chest at the ludicrousness of his suggestion.
My father, the one who all but forced this marriage down my throat, wants to send Sora back to her family now that I’ve taken everything she had to offer, now that I’ve seen the kind of family she would have to go back to, now that I know how impossible it would be for me to live without her.
Now he wants to change his mind.
“Now you want to let me have my way? Now that she’s been living in this house, sleeping in my bed for over amonth? You’re unbelievable. Here I was thinking you might someday want my opinion, but all you’re looking for is a good little soldier. Well, I’m sure you’ll be happy to hear I have no emotions, no ability to fall in love, that I’m willing to use my wife for whatever the family needs—after all, our marriage was only intended to putpuppet strings on the Tanaka family. Wasn’t it? So, what should I care if we send her back?” I’m breathing heavily by the end of my tirade, my chest heaving as I clench my hands into fists, using every last drop of self-restraint not to throw myself over my father’s desk to strangle him.
“That would be a start,” my father confirms, his smile failing to hide his thinly veiled malice.
“Well, you can forget it. I’m tired of dancing to your tune. You want to pretend emotions make us weak, connections leave us vulnerable, but the strength I see in Sora has shown me the truth of it all. With her, I could move mountains. You’re just a pathetic old man who’s going to die alone.” My voice is low now, but it holds no less punch, and I can see when the blow hits home.
My father’s head snaps back, his eyes narrowing as I turn to leave once more.
“That’s it. You’re done,” he says coldly. “If you think I won’t name Giovanni my heir instead, you’ve sorely overestimated your position, Leonardo.”
Hand on the doorknob, I look back over my shoulder. “Good. You should. I never wanted to be Don in the first place. It’s not an honor, it’s an obligation you, Father, forced on me. I’m sick of the fighting, the bloodshed, the conflict, and all for what? So I can rule over the underbelly of Chicago? It’s hardly a kingdom worth claiming.” I sneer, all my bitter resentments flooding to the surface as I finally speak my mind. “You know, Miko’s the lucky one for never earning your love—he doesn’t have to scrape and grovel pretending to be grateful for the shackles you keep on us.”
The don pales, the fury washing from his face as I call his bluff and throw down my winning hand. Because I’m ready to take my chances. I’m ready to walk away from this life and take Sora with me. If we run far enough and fast enough, I’m confident I can outrun whatever penance my father intends to extract from me.
“You think I’ll let you just walk away?” he threatens.
“No, but I can promise you that nothing you say will make me stay.”
With that, I jerk open the office door and storm out.
31
SORA
I wake to warmth enveloping me and hum contentedly. The soft blankets are tangled around my feet, sunlight bleeding through the curtains in gentle golden stripes across my pillow.
The scent of salt clings to the sheets, mingling with Leo’s familiar cypress and lemon cologne.
But as I reach out in search of him, I find the space beside me empty. I blink blearily, stretching an arm across his cool side of the bed. Rolling onto my back, I smile as I stare at the ceiling.
Last night replays in pieces—the quiet laughter as he carried me into the house wearing nothing but my robe, stumbling through the doors into his suite and barely getting them closed before he was taking me to bed, his fingers brushing across my skin as we stripped beneath the covers, his kiss that deepened, lingered, and set my soul on fire.
He took his time with me, as if to worship every inch of my body.
There was no distance, no cold formality—just him and me, like something real was finally beginning between us. I touch my lips, still able to feel the ghost of his mouth on mine.
For the first time since this marriage was arranged, I don’t feel like someone’s bargaining chip.
I feel wanted, chosen—not for politics, not for power, but for me.
Sitting up, I press a hand to my stomach.
My heartbeat quickens, but not with fear.
For the first time, excitement blossoms in my belly when I think about telling Leo.
Suddenly, our baby doesn’t feel like a consequence or a duty but a small, perfect sign of the unexpected love growing between us.
But before I say anything, I need to be sure everything’s okay.
The fall yesterday was a considerable one—the plunge into cold water and the panic that gripped my lungs as I struggled to reach the resurface.
