Dark Alliances (Billion Dollar Brides #4)

1. Mia

1

MIA

I peek out from behind the heavy velvet curtains, my heart pounding in my chest. The ballroom is a sea of glittering lights and elegant figures, all waiting for me. Me, Mia Marino, on my eighteenth birthday.

The day I’m supposed to choose my future husband from a crowd of eager suitors.

My stomach churns as I scan the room. So many faces, so many strangers, each one hoping to win my hand, to become part of the most powerful Mafia Family in the area. I swallow hard, second-guessing my choice to go through with this. It’s tradition, yes, but the thought of marrying someone I barely know makes my palms sweat.

I’m not like my sisters. Sofia and Chiara were lucky. They already had men they cared about when their time came.

And Bianca… well, Bianca’s always been the bold one. She turned her choice into a spectacle, hosting a tournament for her suitors.

But me? I’m the quiet one, the bookworm. The thought of all those eyes on me makes me want to run and hide.

“Mia?” a soft voice calls from behind me.

I turn to see Bianca, my older sister, watching me with a knowing smile. She’s as beautiful as ever, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders in gentle waves, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. There’s a softness to her now, a slight curve to her body that wasn’t there before she had baby Cara. Motherhood suits her.

“Are you ready to make your entrance?” Bianca asks, coming to stand beside me.

I bite my lip, shaking my head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Bianca. How did you do it, sit there all day, watching men compete for your hand?”

Bianca’s smile turns wistful as it’s clear she’s thinking about her own husband. “It wasn’t easy,” she admits. “God knows, you know how bad it went. But you know what? It’s not so bad once the choice is made and you get to know your husband.”

“But what if I choose wrong?” I whisper, voicing my deepest fear.

Bianca takes my hands in hers, squeezing gently. “You won’t,” she says firmly. “You’re the smartest of all of us, Mia. Papa always said so.”

The mention of our father sends a pang through my heart. His final wish was to see all his daughters settled and secure… I have to do this for him, even if he’s not here to see it.

“Besides,” Bianca continues, nudging me gently, “at least you get to pick. That’s more than most girls in our world get. It’s more than I got, too.”

I nod, taking a deep breath. She’s right, of course. This is my chance to take control of my future, even if it’s within the confines of our family’s expectations.

“You’ve got this,” Bianca says, giving me a quick hug. “Now go out there and knock them dead.”

With one last deep breath, I step out from behind the curtain. The room falls silent as all eyes turn to me. I feel like I’m floating down the grand staircase, my emerald green gown shimmering in the candlelight. The silk whispers against my skin with each step, and I focus on that sensation to keep myself grounded.

As I reach the bottom of the stairs, the music swells and the crowd parts. One by one, men approach me, each eager to be the first to dance with the birthday girl. I smile and nod, letting myself be swept across the dance floor.

The first suitor to claim my hand is tall and broad-shouldered, with slicked-back hair and a cocky grin. As we twirl around the room, he leans in close, his breath hot against my ear.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight, Miss Marino,” he says, his voice dripping with charm. “I must say, green is definitely your color.”

I force a smile, trying to ignore the way his hand presses a little too firmly against my lower back. “Thank you,” I murmur, searching desperately for something else to say. “Do you… like green?”

He laughs as if I’ve said something terribly clever. “I like anything you wear, Bella . But I must admit, I’m more interested in getting to know what’s underneath.”

I nearly stumble, shocked by his forwardness. Before I can respond, the song mercifully ends, and I extract myself from his arms as quickly as possible.

The next suitor is shorter, with kind eyes and a nervous smile. As we dance, he babbles about his family’s business ventures, barely pausing for breath.

“…and of course, with the new shipping routes we’ve established, our profit margins have increased by nearly 15% in the last quarter alone. I’m sure your father would have appreciated the strategic advantages of such an alliance. Not that I’m presuming anything, of course! I just mean…”

I nod along, my mind wandering. Is this what my life will be? Endless conversations about profit margins and business strategies? I long for someone to ask me about my own interests, my dreams beyond being a Mafia wife.

The faces and conversations start to blur together as the night wears on. One man boasts about his car collection, another about his sharpshooting skills. A particularly bold suitor attempts to impress me with his knowledge of wine, launching into a lengthy monologue about tannins and bouquets that leaves my head spinning.

“…and that’s why a good Barolo needs at least ten years to reach its full potential,” he concludes, looking at me expectantly.

I blink, realizing he's waiting for a response. “That’s… fascinating,” I manage, stifling a yawn. “I had no idea wine was so complex.”

He beams, clearly pleased with himself. “Oh, it is! You know, I have a rather extensive cellar at my estate. Perhaps you’d like to come and see it sometime?”

The implications of his invitation are clear, and I feel my cheeks flush. “Perhaps,” I say noncommittally, silently praying for the song to end.

As another suitor steps up to claim his dance, I catch sight of my mother across the room. Anna Marino, the picture of elegance in her midnight blue gown, her dark hair swept up in an intricate updo. Her eyes meet mine, and she gives me an encouraging smile.

When the song ends, I make my excuses and hurry over to her, grateful for a moment’s respite.

“Mia, darling,” my mother says, pulling me into a gentle embrace. “How are you holding up?”

I want to tell her the truth—that I’m overwhelmed, that none of these men have sparked even the slightest interest in me, that I’m terrified of making the wrong choice. But I see the hope shining in her eyes, the pride as she looks at me in my beautiful gown, playing the part of the perfect Mafia princess.

“It’s… going well,” I lie, forcing a smile. “Everyone’s been very kind.”

My mother beams, reaching out to tuck a stray curl behind my ear. “I’m so glad to hear that, sweetheart. Your father would be so proud of you.”

The mention of Papa makes my throat tighten. “Do you think so?” I ask softly.

“I know so,” she says firmly. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful, intelligent young woman. Any man here would be lucky to have you.”

I nod, not trusting myself to speak. How can I tell her that I don’t want just any man? That I’m waiting for something more, something that might not even exist in our world?

“Have you had a chance to dance with Enzo Ricci’s son?” my mother asks, gesturing toward a handsome young man standing near the bar. “I hear he’s quite the catch. Dominico and Rork have already vetted him.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Of course, she has her favorites picked out already. “Not yet,” I say. “But I’m sure I’ll get around to everyone eventually.”

My mother squeezes my hand. “Don’t worry too much about making the perfect choice tonight, Mia. This is just the beginning. You’ll have time to get to know the serious contenders better in the coming weeks.”

The thought of having to spend more time with these men makes my stomach churn, but I force another smile. “Of course, Mama. Thank you.”

She gives me one last proud look before shooing me back toward the dance floor. “Go on, now. Don’t keep your suitors waiting.”

With a heavy heart, I allow myself to be swept back into the fray. The next hour passes in a blur of forgettable faces and mindless small talk. I dance until my feet ache, smile until my cheeks hurt, and answer the same questions over and over again.

“What’s your favorite hobby?”

“Do you enjoy traveling?”

“Have you ever been to Milan? You simply must see my family’s villa there.”

I give the expected answers, play the role of the demure Mafia princess, but inside, I’m screaming.

Is this all there is? Is this what my life will be from now on?

I start to feel overwhelmed. Each face blurs into the next, a sea of charming smiles and rehearsed compliments. They’re all perfectly nice, perfectly suitable candidates for a Mafia wife.

But I can’t shake the feeling that something’s missing.

I’m waiting for that spark, that flutter in my stomach that I’ve read about in my romance novels. The one that’s supposed to tell you when you've met The One . But as suitor after suitor spins me around the ballroom, I feel nothing but a growing sense of panic.

What if I never feel it? What if I have to choose someone just because they’re the least objectionable option?

The room suddenly feels too hot, too crowded. I need air. Once my latest suitor deposits me back at my mother’s side, I quickly murmur my excuses and make my way to the terrace doors, slipping out into the cool night air.

The garden is bathed in moonlight, the scent of roses heavy in the air. I lean against the stone balustrade, closing my eyes and taking deep breaths. The quiet is a blessed relief after the noise and chaos of the ballroom.

“Excuse me,” a deep voice says from behind me. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

I turn, startled, to find myself face to face with a stranger. He’s tall, with broad shoulders and a strong jawline. His eyes, dark and intense, meet mine, and suddenly, I can’t breathe.

“Oh, hello,” I manage to get out. “I hope I’m not intruding on your solitude.”

He smiles and it takes my breath away. “Not at all. I was hoping for a bit of fresh air myself.”

And just like that, nervous excitement floods through me, setting my skin tingling and my heart racing. Could this be it? Could this be the one I’ve been waiting for all night?

I open my mouth to respond, but no words come out. I’m lost in his gaze, in the possibility of what this moment could mean. For the first time tonight, I feel a glimmer of hope.

What if this is the one?