As much as I care for them, I can’t argue the fact. “Perhaps each of your children are blessed with their own strengths.”
“My children reflect how a man’s strength wanes with age, from blessings to weakness and curses, the wages of my many sins. My first born was strong and cunning like me. You were followed by two more strong boys, though unruly. Then came the girls… and Giulia.”
My rage explodes as understanding dawns. “Your daughters arenota sign of weakness. Giulia’s deafness is not a fucking curse for your sins. How can you-”
“Argue with me when you have children of your own,” he says, raising his hand. It takes every ounce of self-control I possess not to rage at him. “I am weak, Carlo, and my health has not recovered. Soon, you must rule, and it’s better to rule over a Trio at peace with itself if possible. You must marry, and you will need heirs. May they be strong like you.”
May they be sons, he means.
“I have raised no objection to your suggested match with the Donnelly girl.”
“No, you have not.”
“But as I am your Don and your father and no one may listen to our conversation now, I would like for you to explain it. Why her? What possible advantage could there be in such a match?”
Because I am bewitched.
If I voice that reason aloud, he might tell me to pull over so he can shoot me on the side of the road. I can’t begin to explain to him my reasons for wanting Francesca – how I want to protect her, vex her, and make her laugh. His strategic mind views marriages like mergers. He’d never accept anything less from me. He will expect logic. Hell, I expect more logic from myself than Francesca evokes.
“She is a De Luca by blood. She's close to Alessio’s wife. It may help improve our bond with Vegas. Considering she helped Sofia escape, I believe it’s wise to keep an eye on her. In time, Sofia may grow tired of living on the run and reach out to her beloved cousin. But most of all, I'm certain her brother will reach out to her again while Francesca’s father still breathes freely somewhere when he should’ve been drowned in a bucket of piss three years ago. We will have our revenge at last."
I harbor no real hatred of Ronan even if his plan to whisk Sofia away made us look foolish. But I have wanted to kill Brian Donnelly from the moment I saw her black eye the day Beppe was captured.
“You think you may find a way to lure the brother and perhaps her father out of hiding by marrying her?” my father asks, his cold eyes flashing with keen interest.
“It’s what I expect. I will have Francesca in New York under my protection. We’ll ensure Boston and our contacts in the Bureau know it. Hiding out grows very dull as time passes, I imagine.”
My father gives me a small smile. He’s pleased with my answer. Nothing stands in my way now.
***
Nothing stands in my way except the bride herself, that is.
Two weeks later, Alessio comes to New York with Francesca for a hasty family dinner. Her mother has joined them, but Enzo was not invited. Whether or not he mourns his son and brother, I don’t want him anywhere near her.
A formal betrothal dinner isn’t required - the pact has been agreed to - but my mother insisted on this meeting. Admittedly, I would like to observe how my bride-to-be interacts with my siblings, especially Giulia. Other than Luca, she wasn’t permitted to meet them when she was here last time since we were essentially holding her hostage.
However, I do wish I’d been able to get her ring before she arrives tonight. It’s a mere symbol, but it would make it feel official.
“I’m sure she’s grateful to be offered a ring at all, no matter when she receives it,” Mother says dismissively from beside the window where she’s been watching for their arrival like a sentry. “God, who dressed her?”
“I would think she dressed herself,” I answer, ignoring the boyish impulse to race to the window so I can see her, too.
“She’s not as elegant as Sofia,” Bianca declares, following our mother’s bitchy lead.
“Not another word like that from you,marmocchia,”I bark.“She suits me and, asIwill have a hand in choosing whoyoumarry someday, you will be your most charming self with my bride and her mother tonight.” Bianca quickly blinks back tears at the empty threatwhile Anna laughs over me calling her sister a brat. “Andyouwill be polite, Mother.”
“I'm always polite,” Fiorella Vicini replies haughtily before muttering, “Even when I’m forced to host such…”
“Francesca’s likely to throw something at them before the night is over,” I complain to Luca as he follows me to the front door.
Luca laughs and, when I open the door, he laughs harder before choking out the words, “Good evening, Sister Donnelly.”
“What in the holy fuck?” I ask.
Francesca, wearing a very traditional nun's habit, drops into a damned curtsy, tartly replying, “Holy is correct. I’ve decided to take different vows. Singing is allowed at the convent I’ve chosen. Thus, I’m afraid I can’t marry you, Carlo, as I will soon be a bride of Christ.”
“Fucking hell.”
