Chapter 1 #2
But if I hadn’t loved Emilia, I wouldn’t have Angelica.
So now, at forty-five, I’m onboard with Marco. No more love. Casual sex, sure, but no love.
"You propose that I marry your daughter?" Marco's voice is dangerously soft. "A woman who believes I murdered her mother?"
"The marriage would prove your innocence," Leonardo presses. "Why would you bring her into your family if—"
"No." Marco cuts him off. “I’m not bringing a federal snitch into my home, into my bed.”
Don Ferraza flinches. I’m not sure if it’s Marco’s tone or mention of a bed.
But what does Don Ferraza think would happen if Isabella married Marco?
Of course he’d fuck her.
I watch Marco's face carefully. His initial disgust shifts. He’s clearly calculating, considering.
Then his eyes slide to me.
I shift, though I don’t know why I feel uncomfortable.
“I suppose there could be some advantage. What do they say? Keep your enemies closer?” Marco states. I’m shocked. He’s not seriously considering this, is he?
Hope blooms in Don Ferraza’s eyes again.
“But Roman would be a more suitable match," Marco continues, his tone matter-of-fact. "My most trusted man. My brother in all but blood."
Wait. What?
As cool and collected I can be, this throws me. My eyebrows must be up to my hairline as my gaze jerks to Marco.
All eyes turn to me.
"Roman would keep her in line, find out exactly what she's divulged to the Feds." Marco’s voice drops to a deadly, quiet tone. "And if she doesn't toe the line…"
The implication hangs in the air. If Isabella Ferraza can't be controlled, I'll be expected to eliminate the threat. Even as my wife.
Leonardo's face contorts briefly, his pride wounded at having his daughter handed off to an underboss rather than a Don.
“My daughter deserves—”
“Your daughter betrayed us,” Marco snaps.
“If you want her to live, Leo, you should accept this offer,” Don Vitale says.
Apparently, desperation wins out. His daughter's life hangs in the balance, and he knows it. “Fine.”
"Roman is family to me," Marco adds, like he’s trying to soften the blow. "This union would bind our houses just as effectively." He turns to me. “Roman?”
Can I say no to this? It doesn’t feel like it.
I feel the weight of every gaze upon me, measuring my reaction. Inside, objections pile up.
Angelica, my freedom, the absurdity of marrying a woman I might have to kill.
But externally, I remain stoic.
“Angelica could use a mother figure.” Marco isn’t asking me to do this. It’s an order.
But he’s at least trying to offer benefits to the arrangement.
Of course, he doesn’t see how fucked up it would be if Angelica grew attached to Isabella and then I had to kill Isabella.
Angelica would essentially have lost two mothers.
“It’s a strategic match," I hear myself say. Keep Isabella close. Monitor her communications. Extract information about her handler.
“That it is,” Don Monti says.
"And if she proves loyal? If she was truly just a pawn?" I ask, surprising myself with the question.
"Then you'll have gained a wife to keep you warm at night and Angelica gains a mother. Consider it a bonus. I mean, she’s a beautiful woman." His casual tone masks the gravity of what he's proposing.
This isn't just business.
It's my life. My daughter's life.
I think of Angelica waiting in the kitchen, excited about Christmas cookies and tree shopping.
How do I tell my seven-year-old daughter that she's getting a new mother for Christmas?
A mother who might not survive the winter if she makes one wrong move?
"I'll do it," I finally say. "For the family."
Marco nods, satisfied. "For the family. The arrangements will be handled immediately. Leonardo's estate. This weekend. Small ceremony, family only."
Three days. Three days to completely reorganize my life.
I mentally catalog what needs to be done—security sweeps of my home, making a space for Isabella, preparing Angelica.
How will she take this news?
"The official story," Marco continues, "is that you've been seeing each other discreetly for months. A Christmas wedding, romantic enough that no one will question the speed."
Don Ferraza looks physically ill but manages a nod. "I'll inform Isabella tonight. She'll… understand her position."
I doubt that. A woman who betrayed La Corona to avenge her mother won't suddenly become compliant.
She'll be a caged wildcat in my home.
Around my daughter.
Fucking hell.
The meeting concludes with handshakes, Don Ferraza’s grip trembling slightly as he clasps mine.
In his eyes, I see the desperate plea of a father.
Keep her alive if you can.
I exit the room, my mind still processing this new reality.
Isabella Ferraza. My wife.
I've seen her at family functions over the years, always elegant, composed. Eyes that observe everything while revealing nothing.
Beautiful. Intelligent. Dangerous.
It would be a shame to kill her. A waste of beauty and breeding. But I will, without hesitation, if she threatens my family.
I head toward the kitchen, actively leaving behind Roman the enforcer so that by the time I reach the doorway of the kitchen, I'm just a father again.
I smile at the sight of my daughter with sprinkles dusting her cheeks as she helps Elena's triplets decorate cookies.
"Daddy!" Angelica spots me, waving a star-shaped cookie like a trophy.
"Ready to go, Angel? We've still got time to pick out our tree."
One last normal afternoon before everything changes.
One last memory of just the two of us.
Fucking hell… I’m getting married.