In the end, this marriage isn't about love.
It's about strategy.
About keeping your enemies closer than your friends.
About preventing another war when our ranks are still recovering from the Bratva bloodbath.
As I’d entered Marco’s home, I reminded myself that his daughter was young, only eighteen.
She’d be easy to dominate and manipulate.
Hell, I could probably send her to Europe for a month or two to shop.
She’d be my wife, but not underfoot.
Not someone I needed to deal with day after day.
With a roll of my shoulders, I’d let Marco’s butler lead me to his study.
"Alessandro." He extended his hand. "Welcome to our home."
"Let's skip the pleasantries."
His smile faltered. "My daughter will join us shortly. First, we should discuss the details of the arrangement."
I cut him off. "The details are simple. We marry. Our families stop killing each other. Anything beyond that is unnecessary complication."
This entire performance—the formal introduction, negotiations over dowry, discussions of wedding dates—it was all theater.
A waste of my time when I should be rebuilding what the Bratva took from us.
"I believe tradition calls for?—"
"I don't care about tradition," I interrupted. "Name the date. I'll be there." If it’s to be my fate to marry a Vitale, I'll do it on my terms.
Marco's jaw tightened as he gestured toward a woman standing silently in the corner, his wife, I presumed.
I hadn't noticed her when I entered.
She blended into the background like she's trained herself to disappear.
"My wife, Camilla," Marco introduced her without looking in her direction.
She nodded, eyes downcast. "Don Dante."
“Mrs. Vitale.” I bowed my head toward her because while I don’t mind being an asshole to Marco, I try to be more respectful to women.
"Your father would have understood the practicality of this marriage," Marco said, the mention of my father sending a spike of anger through my chest.
"My father would have burned this house to the ground with you in it if you'd crossed him the way you've crossed me."
Marco smirked, reminding me that I was fucked if I didn’t deal with him. "Yet here you are, agreeing to join our families."
"Times change. Circumstances change." I stepped closer, enjoying how he instinctively leaned back. "But people rarely do, Marco. I haven't forgotten a single transgression."
The tension crackled between us until a soft sound in the doorway drew our attention away.
I turned and for the first time since entering this house, something genuinely surprised me.
