Chapter 2
2
A mara
"You look beautiful," my mom, Vittoria Montefiore, says behind me.
I take in a breath. When I was a little girl, I gathered my dolls and pretended they were getting married. Of course, back then, Barbie loved Ken. She wanted to marry him, move away from her hometown, and become a scientist or president. Barbie had grand plans for humanity.
Barbie didn't think that her parents would make her marry a man who was the equivalent of a human grenade. Dangerous and unpredictable.
"You didn't lose those few extra pounds like we hoped. Thankfully, the stylist did a good job," my mom continues.
I ignore her jab. "She's a miracle worker."
"Yes. I know the last few years have been hard for you… with everything that happened with that boy. But now a new chapter begins."
Boy? I bite my lower lip. The man I fell in love with was no boy. He was twenty-five when we met two years ago. But because he didn't have a high-paying job, my parents got rid of him.
They had him killed, and I watched it—it served me right for trying to be with someone of my choice.
Since my older brother Alonzo slipped into a coma, my parents showed more interest in my role in this family. My brother was supposed to follow my father's lead, and he did until he was in a fight.
I made it clear that being the head of a criminal family wasn't my calling. They acquiesced but then decided that if I wasn't following in their footsteps, I had to marry someone who would elevate us.
It all makes sense.
The Gallo family immigrated to Chicago a couple of decades after ours. So even though they have injected money and a unique way to do crime, my family has access and contacts to parts of Chicago and even New York that they haven't managed to infiltrate yet.
Meanwhile, due to my brother's coma and my father's early dementia, diagnosed a few years ago, our financial situation has steadily declined. So, my mother made a deal with Aldo Gallo, their patriarch.
They'll sort out our financial problems and take care of our businesses. We can give them access to areas where my family has thrived—before my dad's dementia shows signs. A win-win. My mom will be able to retire in luxury as planned.
How I wish I could leave this all behind… but I can't.
If I escape, like my childhood Barbie would, they'll find me.
I don't have financial independence. Could I say to the hell with it and move across the country? I tried once. Two years ago, I met James, and we fell in love. We wanted to start a new life, so we drove to California.
It took my family a few days to send someone after me, their second-in-command, Ugo, who gave me the beating of my life. I was the one asset they possessed, and they didn't want to give me away—especially my mom. My dad was ruthless back in the day, but the symptoms of his illness made him forget a little about the darkest parts of him. Besides, according to my parents, if they reached me, someone else could, too. An enemy could kidnap me and use me as leverage.
"Now, make your husband happy, dear," Vittoria says. "I know you can be stubborn sometimes, but trust me, you can do way worse than Massimo Gallo. He's beyond attractive and super-rich."
"He's forty-one. I'm twenty-three."
"Exactly. He has the stability and security a woman of your standing needs."
"Mom, can you hear yourself?" I ask, rolling my eyes.
Of course she does. She’s lived in this world—was also born for it. Her mother prepared her to be a mafia wife, and it shows. My mother is attractive and engaging. She’s also cutthroat and blunt. She hates asking for help but knows the exact moment she has to—and will use all the tricks up her sleeve to fulfill her goal.
"I believe you'll be pleased, Amara."
"Mom."
"Honey. Our life won't be the same if you don't marry him. They could wipe us from this world if they wanted. But they're sharing it," she says. A single tear rolls down her face. "If your brother were here…"
"He is, Mom. He's not dead." However, a part of me disagrees. According to the doctors, even though the scans say brain function is inconclusive, they believe Alonzo is no longer with us. But my mother doesn't let him go. She's the one who's kept him hooked to the machines. Sadness wraps my chest like a tight corset.
"I know. I meant, if he were in a condition to take charge, we wouldn't need you to marry. But your dad, me, and our families have fought too long to get where we are, only to lose everything."
Oh, the many times I've heard about the sacrifices made decades before my birth, starting all the way from southern Italy to Chicago. "I understand."
"I need for you to marry Massimo and be smart about it. You may not want to run a family, but sometimes, that's a choice you don't have. You have to live with it."
"Okay."
"Good. Also, having you there will be an asset for us. If you hear anything that could hurt Dad and me, financially or otherwise, it's your duty to tell us. Do you understand, Amara?"
I didn't then. But I do now.
Of course, my mom wants me to low-key spy on my new husband in case they plan to break their bargain. I bite my inner cheek, wishing I was in a different galaxy.
A galaxy far from my mom, my dad, and definitely, my husband-to-be. I saw Massimo a few times in person, and he's the kind of presence I'd avoid if possible.
He is a cocky buff man with tattoos swirling around his arms and chest and eyes that can look into someone's soul. They're dark brown, intense, and always—always watching.
His nose isn't perfect, as if it's been broken once or twice. His isn't a relaxing occupation, and I can’t help but wonder what happened to the other guy. He has a body that could grace the cover of a workout magazine. I never saw him shirtless beyond a couple of opened top buttons once.
But damn.
Anyway. I'd never go for that kind of man.
James was tall and slim—some would say slinky. He had a charm and kindness in his demeanor that drew me to him from the moment we met. In my world, people aren't lovely—they’re never nice without expecting something in return.
He helped me when my laptop broke. I could’ve bought a new one, but I didn't want to lose any files. Because my father has always been paranoid about privacy, most files weren't linked to a cloud account. So James helped me, saved my laptop, and in a few months, we were in love—a sweet, warm love.
Bright days in a dark world.
Days that were yanked from me.
If my mom thinks I'll help them, she's dead wrong. I may hate my husband and all he represents… but on the off chance he wants to stoke the fire in my world, I'll help him light the match.