CHAPTER FIVE
The devil herself.
Ari
I walk down the hall slowly and hear raised voices. My brother is laying into someone, and I wonder who deserves his ire.
If I were to put a bet down, my money would be on Emilio since he was MIA at the party. A mortal sin for a bodyguard. Especially in my family.
I stand just outside the heavy oak door and hear Emilio throwing out one excuse after another. “Weak,” I mutter. “Franco will never buy it.”
“What’s that?”
I turn and see Vincenzo standing beside me. “Are you a freaking panther? I didn’t hear you walk up.”
“That was kinda the point, Ari.” He walks around me and looks inside my brother’s office. “I kinda expected to pull a body out of there, but Emilio’s still breathing.”
“Not for long unless he can come up with a better story.”
“The kid thinks his connections to the Santoros are gonna save him. What a fool.”
The heavy oak door creaks open, and Emilio storms out. When he sees us, he quickly wipes the sneer off his face. “Did you have fun in there, Emilio?”
His mouth flattens, and I know he’s silently telling me to fuck myself. “At least you got out of protection gig…that’s gotta be something.”
He slides his hand through his hair, and I notice the blue face of his watch. A Grand Seiko that goes for a quarter of a million dollars. Strange. He’s not pulling in that kind of money. I hear my brother’s voice before I can consider what it means.
“Vince, remind this one what happens when orders aren’t followed.”
“Got it, boss.” Vince smiles like a shark and leads Emilio down the hall.
“Too bad, so sad.”
“Arianna, get in here,” Franco commands loudly.
“Coming.” I amble into the room slowly. The library’s dim interior is a perfect match for the man sitting behind the oversized desk. My brother doesn’t bother looking up as I enter. His fingers tap against the edge of a crystal glass, the ice clinking like a countdown.
I hate this room but force myself to walk across the thick carpet, each step deliberate. The joy of seeing Emilio being knocked down a peg evaporates since whatever comes next will likely change my life.
Silence stretches when I stop in front of the desk. After an interminable minute, Franco finally looks up, his expression as unreadable as always.
“The events from the party have backed us into a corner, Ari,” he says, his voice flat. “The only way to stop a civil war is marriage—or Sicily.”
“Sicily?” I say quietly. “Are we talking a nice, quiet nunnery?”
“Yes.” Franco leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. He steeples his fingers, his eyes locking onto mine. “Your years of antics have made sweeping this incident under the carpet impossible. The old men are up in arms, and the only way to calm them down is to—”
“Make me pay for Gio’s insult,” I say quietly, my stomach churning. “A man paws me and receives no consequences.”
“Your soon-to-be fiancé doled out the punishment.”
“Wait?” I stare at my brother blindly and see he’s serious. “What are you saying?” I ask, my voice laced with disbelief. “My future husband is—”
“Maxsim Volkov,” he cuts in like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
I blink, thrown off balance for a split second. “This is your brilliant solution?”
“Not my idea, and for the record, he made a compelling case and all but insisted on the betrothal.”
I let out a short, hollow laugh. “And you just rolled over? Since when have you allowed anyone to push you around?”
Franco’s eyes darken. “No one pushed. And it’s a reasonable solution to the challenges we’re facing.”
I don’t know whether to be impressed or horrified. “So let me get this straight, one of your lieutenants takes liberties, and I have to marry Maxsim?”
Franco pushes his chair back and moves around the desk until he’s towering over me like a judge about to pass a sentence. With a sinking feeling, I accept he’ll easily sacrifice me to protect the family’s reputation.
“This alliance is fragile, Ari,” Franco says, his tone almost casual, like we’re discussing the weather. “Not everyone is thrilled about working with the Russians. One wrong move, and we’re looking at a full-blown civil war within our ranks.”
“So, I’m supposed to play sacrificial lamb to keep the peace?” I shoot back, my voice sharper than I intend.
“You’re a pawn in a much bigger game,” Franco replies, his gaze steady, unyielding. “But don’t fool yourself—Maxsim sees you as a queen, not a pawn.”
“Queens are still captured, Franco. They’re still used.”
His tone softens, but only slightly. “It needs to be done.”
“Even if he’s more monster than human?”
“I won’t argue with your description, but for some reason, he wants to protect you, and in the current situation, that’s incredibly valuable.”
“And what if I refuse?” I challenge, forcing steel into my voice. “What if I say no to all of this?”
Franco’s expression doesn’t change. “Then pack your bags. The sisters in Sicily will be expecting you.”
I grit my teeth, swallowing the anger that threatens to choke me. “You’d really send me away? Out of sight, out of mind?”
“Better that than watching you get destroyed by the wolves here. At least in the nunnery, you’ll be safe.”
Confusion mixes with the fear and anger already simmering in my stomach. The idea of Maxsim stepping in on my behalf is bewildering.
“Believe it or not, this isn’t about punishment, Ari. It’s about survival. Yours, mine, ours,” Franco continues. “Maxsim isn’t just any man. He’s a man who can keep you alive, no matter what happens.”
“And what kind of life is that? Trapped in another cage, only this time with a Russian lock?”
“Better a cage than a grave,” Franco says without missing a beat. “You’ll figure out how to make it work. You always do.”
I turn away from him, needing a moment to catch my breath. The weight of his words press down on me, heavy and suffocating. When Maxsim and I met a few years ago, he audaciously proclaimed that we should get married. Something about the Bratva’s madman and the Mafia’s wild child changing the landscape forever.
I had no idea he meant to follow through. “I won’t let him control me,” I murmur, more to myself than to my brother.
“You might find that with Maxsim, it’s not about control. It’s about power—and what you can do with it.”
His words plant seeds of doubt and... something else. Something I don’t want to name just yet.
I walk over to the large windows and gather my composure. The estate’s gardens stretch before me as my fingers brush the small jewel hanging around my neck. It’s one every woman in the family receives when she turns fourteen. I remember the words Nonna said when she gave it to me— always keep a way out, cara .
I stare at my reflection in the glass, seeing a woman torn between the lesser of two evils. Do I choose the devil I don’t know, or do I spend the rest of my days in a convent?
I hear Franco’s footsteps as he moves closer. His hand lands on my shoulder gently. “Marrying Maxsim will strengthen our position and keep you safe.”
Safe. The word hangs between us, a bitter joke. Safe in a marriage to a man who’s more myth than human. Franco’s grip tightens slightly as if he can squeeze agreement out of me.
“This is the only answer,” he continues, his tone laced with certainty, “We can’t afford to decimate our ranks because someone dared to cross the Don by seeking revenge for Gio.”
Franco turns me around so we’re facing one another. “You marrying Maxsim will send a clear message that we are united, strong, and untouchable.” He pauses, his eyes flickering for just a moment. “Ari… this is the only way I can keep you safe.”
The weight of his words makes it hard to breathe.
“If this alliance crumbles, we’ll have war. Sal Santoro’s been circling like a vulture, waiting for one crack to take New York and everything we’ve fought for. If that happens, we’ll lose more than just power, Ari. We’ll lose people, soldiers, and allies.” His words are cold, calculated, designed to push me into the corner he’s carefully prepared. “You may hate this marriage, but believe me, you’ll hate what happens if you refuse even more.”
I think of the people this would affect—the loyal soldiers, the innocent bystanders caught in the crossfire. The thought of their blood on my hands twists my gut, forcing me to consider the price of defiance.
Franco gently lifts my chin. “This marriage could offer you power…influence if you play your cards right. The Volkov’s reach stretches all the way to Russia, so there’s a possibility of shaping your destiny within this union.”
His words strike a chord deep within me. The idea is tempting. I’ve spent so long feeling powerless, trapped by the expectations of this family, that the thought of having some control over my future is like a lifeline.
Not to mention the enormous upside of being away from my mother’s constant judgment. That alone makes the prospect almost enticing.
I take a deep breath, meeting Franco’s gaze with as much steel as I can muster. “I’ll marry him,” I say, my voice steady, though my heart pounds.
The thought of Maxsim—of being bound to a man I can’t read, can’t predict—sends a shiver down my spine. But this is a chance to play the game on my own terms.
Franco nods, a small smile of approval curving his lips. It’s the smile of a man who thinks he’s just won a battle. “I knew you’d see reason,” he says, his tone confident. “I’ll make the arrangements. You’ll be married by the end of the month.”
I tip my head in agreement and then stride out of the library. As the door clicks shut, I pause in the hallway, taking a moment to steady myself.
The cool air is a sharp contrast to the suffocating tension in that room. “You are a Bianchi,” I remind myself. Maxsim Volkov might think he’s getting a dutiful wife, but he’s in for a surprise.
I’ll find a way to use this marriage to gain the power and influence Franco dangled in front of me. And when the time is right, I’ll no longer be a pawn but the queen.