Chapter 2 Santino
The Costa estate is exactly what I expected. Old money, old power, old traditions.
I'm standing in one of their sitting rooms with my crew, waiting for the formal ceremony to begin. My father is already deep in conversation with Dominic Costa, the two Dons doing what Dons do best; discussing territory, power, and the future of their combined empires.
A future that includes me running both families.
"Boss." Bruno appears at my elbow, keeping his voice low. "You good?"
I glance at my right-hand man. Bruno's been with me since we were teenagers, back when we were just two kids learning the family business. If there's anyone I trust, it's him.
"I'm fine." I straighten my tie out of habit. "Just ready to get this started.4
"Started." Paulie joins us, grinning. "You mean over with."
"It's the same thing." I accept a drink from a passing server. Scotch, neat. "Forty days of playing the attentive fiancé, then we merge the families and expand our operations. Simple."
"Simple?" Bruno doesn't sound convinced. "Nothing about arranged marriages is simple."
"This one is." I take a sip. "Liana Costa gets a powerful husband. I get control of her family's territory. Her father gets the alliance he wants. Everyone wins."
"Except maybe her," Tommy points out. He's the quiet one of our group, built like a tank and twice as observant. "She's losing her family’s empire."
"She's gaining mine." I don't see the problem. "The Marcello name carries weight. She should be grateful."
Sal snorts. He's the oldest of my crew, somewhere in his fifties, and he's seen enough marriages to have opinions. "Grateful. Right. Because women love being told they should be grateful."
"You know what I mean." I scan the room, taking in the Costa family members, the layout, the exits. Force of habit. "This is how it works. Has been for generations. She knows what she's getting into."
"Does she?" Bruno's watching me too carefully. "You've never met her. What if she's difficult?"
"Then I'll handle it." I finish my scotch. "I've negotiated with rival families, managed territory disputes, and survived three attempts on my life. I can handle one woman."
"Famous last words," Sal mutters.
Before I can respond, Paulie pulls out his phone. "Speaking of handling things, I'm starting a pool."
"Of course you are." I resist the urge to take his phone away. "On what?"
"On how long before you lose your mind in this arranged marriage." He's already typing. "I'm giving you twenty days. Bruno?"
"I'm not participating." Bruno crosses his arms.
"Tommy?"
"Thirty days." Tommy shrugs. "He's stubborn."
"Sal?"
"Fifteen." Sal doesn't hesitate. "Any woman who's being forced into an arranged marriage is going to make his life hell. It's just math."
"Nobody's forcing her." I set down my glass harder than necessary. "This is a mutually beneficial arrangement."
"Mutually beneficial for the families," Bruno corrects. "Not necessarily for her."
"She'll adjust." I'm getting annoyed now. "Women in our world understand how this works. Tradition exists for a reason."
Paulie's still grinning. "Ah yes, tradition. That magical word that justifies everything."
I'm about to tell him exactly where he can shove his opinions when someone announces that the ceremony is about to begin. Everyone starts moving toward the main room where the formal introductions will take place.
"Time to meet your future wife, boss." Paulie claps me on the shoulder. "Try not to screw it up."
"There's nothing to screw up." I follow the crowd. "I meet her, we do the ceremony, we start the forty days. It's all formality."
We file into the main sitting room. It's set up like a small theater, chairs arranged in rows facing a central area where the elder will officiate.
Old Tony Greco is already there, ancient and dignified, ready to explain the Forty Days Tradition to everyone who already knows exactly what it entails.
My father catches my eye and nods toward the front. I make my way there, my crew following. This is my show now. Vincent Marcello might still be the Don, but this arrangement is mine. This expansion is mine.
The future is mine.
I take my position at the front, standing where I'm supposed to stand. The families are settling into their seats. Dominic Costa is in the front row, his wife beside him. His brother, Tommaso, and various other Costa family members fill in around them.
Everyone's here.
Except her.
"Where's the bride?" Paulie whispers.
"Don't call her that." Not yet, anyway. "She'll be here."
"You seem confident for a guy who's never met her."
"I've seen her photo." And it was impressive. Dark hair, darker eyes, the kind of beauty that turns heads. "She's beautiful. That's half the battle."
"And the other half?"
"Making sure she understands her role." I cross my arms. "Which shouldn't be difficult. She's Dominic Costa's daughter. She knows how our world works."
Tony Greco clears his throat, calling for attention. The room quiets. He begins his speech about tradition, about family, about the sacred nature of the arrangement we're about to formalize.
I've heard this before. Different family, different arrangement, but the words are always the same. Tradition. Honor. Duty. The pillars of our world.
"The Forty Days Tradition," Tony intones, "is a time-honored practice. For forty days, the couple will spend time together. They will attend family functions. They will be seen in public as a united front. At the end of this period, the man will make his decision."
The man will make his decision. As it should be.
"If he chooses to proceed," Tony continues, "the marriage will take place immediately, and the families will be joined. If he chooses not to proceed, the arrangement is dissolved."
Which isn't going to happen. Why would I walk away from this opportunity?
The Costa family controls major shipping routes, legitimate businesses that provide perfect cover for our operations, and connections throughout the city.
Combining their empire with ours makes us one of the most powerful families in Italy.
All I have to do is go through the motions of dating Liana Costa for forty days.
"And now," Tony says, "we welcome the bride-to-be."
Everyone turns toward the entrance. I follow their gaze.
The room goes quiet. Waiting.
Then I see movement at the top of the stairs.
And Liana Costa appears.
The air shifts. Every eye in the room locks on her as she stands there, poised at the top of the staircase. The photos didn't do her justice. Not even close.
She's not just beautiful. She's devastating.
Dark hair falls in waves past her shoulders. The black dress fits like it was painted on. But it's her face that catches me. Delicate features, full lips, and eyes that are currently scanning the room with an intensity that feels almost predatory.
She's not nervous. She's not shy.
She's evaluating.
Her gaze sweeps across the gathered families, taking in every face, every detail. When her eyes land on me, I feel it. We stare at each other across the distance. Her expression doesn't change, but something flickers in her eyes.
Then she smiles.
It's not the smile of a woman resigned to her fate. It's not the smile of a dutiful daughter following orders. It's the smile of someone who knows something I don't.
She starts descending the stairs, every step measured and graceful. The room watches in silence. My father shifts in his seat. Dominic Costa sits forward slightly.
But I can't look away from her.
There's something about the way she moves. The confidence. The control. This isn't a woman being forced into an arranged marriage. This is a woman who walked in here with a plan.
The thought should worry me. Instead, I find it intriguing.
She reaches the bottom of the stairs and stops. We're maybe twenty feet apart now. Close enough to see that smile again.
What the hell is she secretly smiling about?
Tony gestures for her to come forward. She does, gliding across the floor like she owns the room. When she reaches the center, she turns to face me directly.
"Santino Marcello," Tony says formally. "May I present Liana Costa."
She extends her hand and I take it. Her skin is soft, but her grip is firm. Not submissive. Not yielding.
"Liana." I bring her hand to my lips, playing my part. "It's a pleasure."
"Is it?" Her voice is smooth, cultured. "We'll see."
The words are quiet, meant only for me.
We'll see.
Like this isn't already decided. Like I haven't already won.
I release her hand, studying her face. She holds my gaze, that slight smile never wavering.
Behind me, I hear Sal whisper to Bruno. "Fifteen days. I'm calling it now."
Liana's smile widens just a fraction.
Like she heard him.
And like she agrees.