But he also knows my own situation.
The empire my father built teeters on the edge of collapse after the Bratva's assault.
Our numbers are diminished.
Adriano is still my right-hand man, but with a new marriage and baby on the way, he has distractions he hadn’t before.
My other brother Luca is in Chicago after my father banished him.
He might have come back after my father’s death, but he has his own organization now.
"You remember the last time we sat in a room like this, Marco?" I tap my fingers on the table, wanting to suggest boredom at his wasting my time. "Just a few months back, you sat there with similar propositions of 'peace'."
Marco's smile remains fixed, but it’s as fake as his word.
"You thought you'd found allies in the Bratva against me. Believed your little arrangement with Ivan would deliver my business to you." I lean forward. "How’d that work out for you?" It hadn’t.
We’d gotten word at what Ivan was planning against us and were ready with our own attack.
As soon as Marco realized what was going on, he retreated, but not before I knew his true intentions.
He’s been working against me, not with me.
Enrico's jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything.
"Ancient history." Marco waves his hand dismissively. "We're here to discuss the future. A unified front. My proposal is simple." Marco leans forward and begins to rattle off his proposal, most of which sounds familiar from the last time he’d been here.
“You know that old saying… fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me? Why would I leap at the chance to ally with a man who's proven his word means nothing?" I lean back in my chair, maintaining the appearance of control even as I fantasize of killing both these men right here, right now.
Marco's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Let's be frank, Alessandro. The Bratva may be fractured, but they've left you bleeding. Half your men are dead or scattered. Your territories are vulnerable, your shipments understaffed. The other families are watching."
"Is that a threat?" I ask, my tone conversational but deadly.
Marco raises his hands in mock surrender. "An observation. I could move against you—we both know it. Instead, I'm offering peace."
I laugh derisively. "Peace. From you."
Roberto shifts beside me, a subtle reminder of what the elders have been whispering.
Another war now would devastate what remains of my father's empire.
We need time to rebuild, to strengthen our position.
But I’d rather slit my own throat than align with this snake.
"If I want alliances, Marco, I have options. Families with honor. Men whose words can be trusted."
Enrico bristles at this, but Marco places a restraining hand on his son's arm. The boy has his father's temper without any of his restraint.
"Which is precisely why I'm prepared to offer something more substantial than words." Marco leans forward. "Collateral."
"What could you possibly have that would interest me?"
"My daughter," he says simply. "Isabella. In marriage."
I keep my face impassive, though internally, I'm recalculating.
A marriage alliance.
