4. Alessia
Dinner is...not going well.
We made it through the first three courses. It was a little touch and go during the veal. But by the time dessert is served, I’ve decided to bite my tongue. Well, I should say the looks my father keeps shooting in my direction have made it clear he expects me to bite it.
When I walked into the library and saw Finn for the first time in person and dressed in what I’m sure is a custom black suit and crisp white shirt sans tie, I had to take a moment to compose myself. I’ve never been a slave to my baser desires, but that man oozes confidence and a certain swagger that used to be my kryptonite. It’s gotten me into trouble in the past, and I’m not about to go into this marriage with him thinking he has the upper hand in any way, shape, or form, including him being aware that I find him impossibly attractive. All he had to do was turn those dark-blue eyes that held mischief and promise my way and a riot of butterflies took flight low in my belly. Then he stood, and I got the full view of all six foot two of the gorgeous man wearing a devil-may-care smirk. Could have been the wine at lunch, or it could have been my lack of a satisfying love life, or any love life, but something flared in me that I wasn’t prepared for.
And I needed to shut it down fast.
The look on Finn’s face when I “mistook” Cillian for him was priceless. He’s obviously a man who knows the attention he garners from the female population, and he revels in it if the rumors are true. I’ve never been one to believe everything I hear about someone, but where there’s smoke, there’s fire. And my first instinct when I laid eyes on my future husband was there had to be truth to those rumors. It was in the way his presence took up the space. He stood tall and proud in the presence of my father, which most men don’t do, but Finn was casual and confident, like being in the home of one of his toughest competitors wasn’t anything more than a typical Tuesday night. I was intrigued and hated it, hence my sudden and visceral need to see the man knocked down a peg or two.
After the maid clears the dessert plates, my father suggests we head to the study for after-dinner cognac and cigars. My mother opts not to join us; she hates the smoke. Finn and Cillian thank her for the lovely meal. When the two men are saying their goodbyes to my mother, my father gently pulls me aside.
“What are you doing? Are you trying to make yourself as disagreeable as possible? I was under the impression you were on board with this marriage,” he says in a low voice.
“I don’t know what you mean, Papa,” I reply with innocent, wide eyes. “I was just making conversation, trying to get to know the man better.”
My father’s brow quirks, and he gives me a flat look.
“Can you do that without insulting him?”
I smile sweetly. “Of course.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
Kissing his cheek, I turn to the two men silently waiting to be shown to the study. It’s not that I’m unwilling to partake in this unholy alliance, it’s that if I don’t set firm boundaries now, Finn is the type to walk all over me. I refuse to allow that to happen.
“Gentlemen, follow me.”
Finn’s eyes widen in surprise at the insinuation I’ll be joining them. I may have the same distaste for cigar smoke as my mother, but I enjoy an after-dinner cognac, and I’ll be damned if they discuss my future as Mrs. Monaghan without me in the room.
My father leads us to his study, and the entire time, Finn trails behind me. I’ve never been one to wax poetic about a man’s gaze caressing my skin as I’ve read in so many books, but damn if I don’t feel his eyes glued to me as I walk in front of him. I may or may not put a little extra sway in my hips as we enter the room.
“Please have a seat,” my father instructs as his butler grabs the humidor box and offers a cigar to each of the men.
This is the only room in the house my mother allows him to smoke in and one of my favorites. Though I don’t enjoy the smoke, the rich scent of cigars constantly hangs in the air. That scent will always remind me of my brother. He and I used to play hide-and-seek and he never failed to find me in here, ducked behind one of the couches or under the desk in the corner.
I make myself busy pouring drinks and hand a glass to my father, then Finn and Cillian, before I settle on the leather couch next to my father. We’re facing each other across the low coffee table, the line between us clear until we sign a contract that binds our families together.
“Let’s talk about the elephant in the room,” Finn starts as I look around dramatically.
“I don’t see an elephant,” I say with fake confusion lacing my words.
His lips purse and my father mumbles something in Italian under his breath.
“You don’t want this marriage,” Finn says, leveling me with a look that dares me to lie.
“I want what’s best for my family and the future of the business my father has built.”
Finn puffs his cigar and leans back on the couch. “Same here,” he says with that fucking irreverent smile.
“I also have reservations. Your organization is getting the better end of the deal, as far as I can see.”
Finn chuckles and waves his hand for me to continue.
“You need my father’s men to take control of the ports from Cataldi.”
Finn’s eyes flare for a moment when I speak so frankly about business matters. Most families don’t allow women to have a say or even any knowledge of what goes on behind the doors of these kinds of meetings. But I’m not most women, and my father has long since clued me in on the inner workings of his business.
“Same as your father needs ours. Anyone can fight for control, but neither your father nor I have made it to where we are by simply seizing that control. It’s about keeping it, and quite frankly, neither of our organizations are in the position to keep it if Cataldi comes back for that particular fight,” Finn counters.
It’s no secret Carlo Cataldi has been missing since his run-in with a federal prosecutor and an MC president a few months ago. His father’s conviction and Carlo’s subsequent disappearance have thrown the Cataldi organization into a tailspin, every capo grabbing whatever they think they can and then some.
“Who do you think the men will take orders from? You or an Italian they’ve known their entire life?” I ask with a bite to my tone.
Finn lifts his chin, meeting my challenge. “That’s all well and good for you, sweetheart, but where are you going to get the manpower to take over in the first place? They might be more inclined to listen to your father,” he emphasizes his last two words, driving home the point that it’s my father calling the shots, not me. “But it won’t do much good if your men are cut down for trying.”
The asshole has a point.
“The way I see it is we both need this deal. It’s no secret it’s expensive to have my shipments coming into ports so far from Boston. There’re a lot of palms to grease from those ports to Boston. And it’s also no secret that Cataldi has been bleeding the other families dry with his ever-increasing ‘taxes’ on shipments that aren’t his. You could use other ports like I do, but it isn’t going to solve any of our problems long term. We both need those ports, and I’d rather we create a united front for both of our families than fight Cataldi for power when he returns. If we’re going to do this, now’s the time. If not, then thank you for the meal and the fine Cuban.” Finn snuffs out the cigar on the crystal ashtray to the side of him and leans forward, looking me in the eye, daring me to…actually, I can’t quite tell. It’s either wish him good night and good luck or marry him and unite our two families, becoming one of the most powerful organizations on the East Coast.
I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge.
“Look over the contract, Mr. Monaghan. If it meets your standard, we’ll sign.” I meet his challenging gaze with one of my own. A small smile ticks up the corner of his mouth, and he nods.
When my father hands him the contract, he reviews it quickly and hands it to Cillian, who does the same. The room is quiet as they go over the short document.
I catch my father’s eyes, and he smiles, tipping his head down slightly in a nod of appreciation.
Cillian hands the contract back to Finn, who asks my father for a pen. He signs the paper with a flourish and smiles widely at me.
“Welcome to the family, Mrs. Monaghan.”
My mother is a master at getting shopkeepers to bend over backward for her. It’s been two days since having dinner with Finn, and I’m already wrapped in lace and silk, standing on a small platform in front of a huge mirror while a seamstress shoves pins into the expensive fabric, the needles poking dangerously close to my skin.
Gemma and my mother sit on a dark purple velvet couch, and from the reflection in the mirror, I see the tears in my mother’s eyes.
“You look so beautiful,” she says for the hundredth time, and I fight not to roll my eyes.
I love my mother and want her to have her moment seeing me in my wedding dress, but it’s not as though this is some happy love connection that turned into a marriage proposal. This is a business transaction that’s resulting in a marriage and a territory takeover. The only reason there’s going to be an actual wedding in a church is because my mother wouldn’t have it any other way, and from the sound of it, neither would Finn’s.
In ten days’ time, we’re to be married at St. Michael’sin front of three hundred of our closest friends and family. Though we agreed it would be best to show the world and the other families that Finn and I are committed to this marriage, hence the lavish wedding in a church, I’m not looking forward to having to carry on this farce in front of so many people. I’m good at keeping a straight face in the company of my father’s men, but to play a blushing bride is miles out of my comfort zone.
Gemma hands my mother another tissue from her bag and catches my eye in the mirror, trying not to laugh at the uncomfortable look on my face.
Since Gemma is aware of the fact this is business and not a love match, she didn’t bother squealing with glee when I called and asked her to be my maid of honor. Instead, she told me she would stand with me, of course, and if I needed a quick escape, she could have a car running and waiting for me to jump in Thelma and Louise style. God, I love my best friend.
My mother wanted me to call five of my cousins to have them as bridesmaids, but I convinced her it would be a huge inconvenience to them, given the short notice. Of course, she argued, saying she could make it work, as made evident by the dress fitting in a wedding salon that had a six-month waiting list, but she finally relented. Barely.
“Mama, please don’t cry. It’s just a dress,” I tell the teary woman dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
“I can’t help it. You’ll understand when you have a daughter of your own.”
Much to my relief, Finn didn’t bat an eye at there not being an heirs clause in the contract. The thought of being pregnant still terrifies me—even though it’s been years since the night my brother found me bloodied and bruised at the hands of my ex after I’d told him I was pregnant. He didn’t believe it was his for no other reason than he was a jealous asshole that swore the condoms he usually wore would have prevented the pregnancy. He accused me of trying to trap him into marriage. I miscarried that night in my brother’s bed, too ashamed to tell my parents. Though my father eventually got the truth from me, I never told my mother what happened. Gemma knows, and the look of sympathy she gives me when she sees my mind play through the memory is too much for me to deal with. I turn my gaze to the woman who’s just finishing with the pins.
“All right, Ms. Amatto, we’re set here. I’ll start on this today, and it shouldn’t take more than three days to finish.”
That’s a fucking miracle if I’ve ever heard of one. A small part of me may have been hoping there was no way my dress would be sorted on such short notice, then I could postpone the wedding. There’s no way to back out of the contract, not that I would do that to my father, but it would’ve been nice to have a few more days to let the idea that I was going to officially be a Monaghan sink in. Doesn’t really matter, though. It’s happening whether I’m used to the idea or not.
“I don’t have to be back to work for the rest of the day. How about the three of us have a nice lunch? Maybe you and I can try to get Alessia over there a little excited about her wedding. Does that sound good to you, Mrs. Amatto?”
The seamstress scrunches her brow at Gemma’s suggestion, obviously confused as to why I wouldn’t be excited about the “big day.” She probably assumed I was knocked up, and that’s why there was a rush to have this done so quickly.
I widen my eyes at Gemma, flick my gaze from my best friend to the seamstress, then back to Gemma. I see the moment it dawns on her that anyone dress shopping would be excited about their wedding and to not make it sound like I’m not. She shoots me an apologetic smile.
The shopkeeper may not know exactly who my father is, but it’s common knowledge in Boston that he’s a rich and powerful real estate developer. The last thing I want are rumors flying and the wrong person hearing them.
After one of the shop girls helps me out of the dress, the three of us head to my mother’s favorite five-star restaurant. I figured it was the least I could do since my lack of cheer was dampening this entire event for her. She says the mushroom risotto is the best she’s had in the States, and coming from a woman who grew up in Italy with a mother who could probably open her own five-star restaurant, that’s high praise. I’m no stranger to dining at some of the most high-end restaurants in the city, but every time I walk in here and am hit in the face with beige everything, I’m grateful I never married some fancy uptight heir to his father’s fortune. Not as though that was ever really an option. It’s just all so bland. The walls, the tables, the people. I have a little laugh to myself when I think about coming here after picking out the wedding dress I’m going to wear to marry the head of the Irish mob. I’m sure if any of the ladies drinking their chardonnay at the tables surrounding us knew who we really were, they’d have an absolute conniption over their ni?oise salad.
The waiter brings us our menus and a wine list. Instead of ordering a glass, we decide to share a bottle of prosecco. I also let the waiter know that as soon as this one is finished, we’ll be ordering a second. It doesn’t hurt to be prepared.
“I understand this isn’t the most traditional way to start a marriage, sweetheart—”
“It’s not unusual in our life, Mama,” I say, cutting her off.
“No, it isn’t, but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a happy marriage. It may not be starting off exactly how you envisioned, but as far as I can tell, there’s no reason to believe Finn won’t make a good husband.”
It takes a monumental effort not to snort the sparkling wine through my nose. I can think of several reasons, the first being his reputation as a complete and unapologetic player. That doesn’t sound like good husband material to me.
“I’m sure everything will be fine. It’s not like he’s going into this with expectations of a doting wife being at his beck and call.” I made sure that was not the impression I made at dinner.
“Oh, I do hope you can find a way to hold your tongue, Alessia. If he thinks it’s going to be a fight every time he walks through the door, there isn’t anything stopping him from not coming home at all.”
“One could hope,” I mutter under my breath before taking another sip from my glass.
Though my mother doesn’t catch my remark, Gemma does and almost chokes on the wine that’s halfway down her throat.
My mother looks concerned while Gemma gets herself under control, and I watch her with an amused smirk.
“Sorry, wrong pipe,” she says, taking a drink of the water in front of her. Her hand lifts to get the waiter’s attention. “We should order. Mrs. Amatto, what are you having?”
I barely hold back my laughter as she quickly changes the subject.
“Are you meeting his family before the wedding?” Gemma asks after we order.
“We’ll be having dinner with them tomorrow night, in fact,” I reply, nodding to my mother.
“Well, that will be nice,” she offers, but I look anything but excited.
Being in Finn’s company is disorienting. Hearing him moan when he tasted his food at dinner and the way he looked at me with a dare in his gaze before I agreed to sign the marriage contract stirred something in me. I detest men who have reputations like his, but there was something about the way he carried himself the other night that sparked some sort of challenge between us that I can’t resist rising to. I’m used to men tiptoeing around me because of who my father is. Finn looked at me like he wanted to sink his teeth into me, and he was going to have a grand time doing it.
I lift my hand to signal to the waiter that we’re ready for another bottle.
Finn Monaghan can keep that damn eye twinkle and his teeth to himself.
I’m surprised the former head of the Monaghan family doesn’t live in a palatial estate like the one I grew up in. Don’t get me wrong, his house is huge and behind a gate with an armed guard. But it’s obvious when we pull up the driveway that Cormac and Maeve Monaghan have a house that’s more of a home rather than the giant estate I grew up on. My father built an empire, and he wanted anyone who visited his home to see that. The Monaghans don’t flaunt their wealth like my father does, even though I’m sure they’re just as wealthy as my family.
Instead of a guard waiting on the front porch like at my house, we’re greeted with the sight of an older couple, the woman with short blonde hair wearing a joyful smile on her face as we approach.
“Alessia, it’s so good to meet you,” she says, enveloping me in a hug.
When she pulls away, I give her a smile in return. “Nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Monaghan.”
“Please call me Maeve. We don’t stand on formalities.”
Cormac forgoes the hug and holds out his hand instead. “Cormac Monaghan. Nice to meet you.”
It’s like looking at an older version of Finn with the same tall frame and commanding presence. Cormac has similar blue eyes, but Finn must get the stormy blue hue of his from his mom.
The couple introduces themselves to my parents as I wonder where the hell my future husband is.
“Come in, come in,” Maeve tells my parents and me, opening the door to their home.
When we step inside, I see my earlier observations about their house are spot on. This house looks lived in and comfortable. Pictures of the family, some looking like they date back to the time when their relatives still lived in Ireland, cover every light-gray-painted wall. There’s no rhyme or reason to the placement, just row after row of photographs of several generations of Monaghans.
“The boys are in the family room,” Maeve says and waves for us to follow.
Yelling can be heard from where we stand. If I knew the woman better, I’d swear Maeve is not happy with the commotion by the way her shoulders seem to stiffen, even though she keeps a pleasant smile on her face. Entering the family room, I see my future husband. There’s a man who is the spitting image of Maeve sitting beside him on a large couch that looks more comfortable than any piece of furniture we have in our house, and they’re…playing a video game.
“You motherfucker,” the blond man next to Finn complains. “That’s cheating and you damn well know it.”
Maeve doesn’t waste a second and walks right behind the man and smacks him upside the head.
“Language, Eoghan. And turn off the damn game. Alessia and her parents are here.” She shakes her head in disappointment when she looks at Finn. “I told you to meet us at the door, and instead, you’re in here turning your brain to mush with your brother.”
“Sorry, Mom.” Finn stands and offers her a sheepish look. “But Eoghan was crying like a baby about how I never play him anymore because he’s such a sore loser, and I didn’t hear you.”
“You’re a damn liar,” Eoghan says.
“Boy, if I have to tell you one more time to watch your mouth…” Maeve lets the threat trail off, and Eoghan shoots Finn a scathing glare.
“Sorry, Mom,” the younger Monaghan concedes.
Finn walks around the couch and greets me with a kiss on both cheeks before saying hello to my mother and shaking my father’s hand.
Eoghan approaches me with an outstretched hand and introduces himself. “Nice to meet you, Alessia. Listen, if at any point you want to run away with the more attractive brother who’s a hell of a lot more fun than this sorry sack, you just let me know.”
Finn walks up to Eoghan and smacks him on the back of the head, just like his mother did moments ago.
“Stop trying to flirt with my fiancée.”
“What the hell is with this family and hitting me in the head today?” Eoghan says, rubbing his abused skull. “And I wasn’t trying. I was simply letting her know she’s got other options and doesn’t have to be stuck with your boring ass for the rest of her life.”
“From what I hear, your brother is anything but boring.” Why am I bringing this up?
Finn’s brows quirk up. “Youve been checking up on me, sweetheart?” That damn smirk has made its appearance again.
“I like to know who I’m going into business with.”
“Well, don’t believe all the rumors unless, of course, they tell you I never leave any woman in my bed unsatisfied.”
“You’re getting a little ahead of yourself there, sweetheart. No one has said anything about me ever being in your bed. We’re married on paper for the good of both of our families, not because I find you irresistible and can’t wait to fall into a bed that countless women have been in before me.”
Yes, I’m aware I’m being a bitch, but seriously? He’s crossing so many lines no man would ever dream of crossing with me at the moment, and I don’t find it particularly amusing or charming.
At least, that’s what I’m telling myself.
“I wouldn’t say countless,” Finn counters, completely ignoring the rest of my statement.
I roll my eyes and turn away from Finn and Eoghan to face my parents and my future in-laws, who have walked outside to the patio. Thankfully, the French doors were left open, allowing the breeze to cool my heated skin. There’s something about this man that lights a fire in the pit of my stomach, and I’m not entirely sure I hate it.
“You have a lovely home, Maeve. Thank you so much for inviting us,” I say, walking outside to the seating area that overlooks an expansive backyard with a pool and an entire outdoor kitchen and bar setup.
Cormac rises from his seat and offers to pour me a glass of wine, which I accept with an appreciative smile. Finn and his brother join us outside with beers in their hands as though this is a relaxed dinner between old family friends instead of being the first time the Amattos and Monaghans have shared the same space without being heavily armed.
As I’m finishing my wine, a stout woman who looks to be in her sixties comes out to the patio and announces dinner is ready. Cormac is the first to stand, ushering my parents to the dining room as Maeve loops her arm through mine. “I know my boys can be a bit…much. But can I just say how happy I am to have a daughter after all the testosterone I’ve had to deal with for the last thirty or so years?”
I smile, wondering if she knows the context of my marriage to her son.
“It may not be what you had planned when you were a little girl, but Finn is a good man with a fierce heart, and I can tell you have the same.” Her warm smile succeeds in putting me at ease, even though this situation is anything but comfortable. “Just a word of advice, if I may?”
I nod, and she leans in closer, as though we’re sharing a secret. “Don’t let him push you around. He’s used to people following his orders, but I think we both know who’s the real head of a family.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” I reply, mirroring the conspiratorial gleam in her eye.
“No, I don’t suppose I will.”