Chapter 2 #2
"Do you?" I press, leaning closer. "Because let me make this crystal clear, Vittoria. Once we're married, you're mine. Your life, your body, your future, they all belong to me and this family. There's no going back."
I expect her to flinch, to show fear or hesitation.
Instead, she meets my gaze head-on. "I understand perfectly, Cesare.
But let me make something clear as well.
I may be young, I may be your wife soon, but I'm not a toy to be played with or a pawn to be discarded.
I'll fulfill my role, but I expect to be treated with respect. "
Her boldness catches me completely off guard. For a moment, I'm torn between anger at her audacity and admiration for her spirit.
In the end, I find myself chuckling softly.
"You're full of surprises, aren't you?" I sit back in my chair. "Very well, Vittoria. I can respect a woman who knows her own mind. But remember, respect is earned in our world. You'll have to prove yourself."
She nods, posture relaxing slightly. "I understand. And I'm ready for whatever comes my way."
As I study her, I realize this arrangement may be more complicated than I initially thought. Vittoria Costa isn't just a beautiful face or political pawn. She's a force to be reckoned with, and I'm not entirely sure what to make of it.
One thing I do know: I won't tolerate anything close to disrespect.
"We'll see," I say finally. "For now, focus on the wedding. We can discuss your... role in the family more thoroughly after the ceremony."
Vittoria stands, smoothing down her dress. "As you wish, Cesare. Is there anything else?"
I wave my hand dismissively. "No. The wedding planner should be here soon."
She nods and turns to leave, but I call out just as she reaches the door.
"One more thing, Vittoria." My voice is low and deliberate. She pauses, hand on the doorknob, and looks back. "Don't mistake my appreciation for your intelligence as weakness. I may respect a woman who knows her own mind, but I will not tolerate disobedience or disrespect. Is that clear?"
Something shifts in her expression—resignation maybe—before she schools her features back into that careful mask.
"Crystal clear, Cesare," she replies, voice steady despite the tension I can see in her shoulders.
As she leaves, I find myself thinking about our conversation. Vittoria is more complex than I thought. Her intelligence and spirit could be valuable assets to our family, but they could also be threats if not properly controlled.
I'll need to keep a close eye on her. Mold her into the wife and partner I need without breaking that intriguing spark entirely.
The sound of raised voices from the hallway interrupts my thoughts. I recognize Lorenzo's angry tone immediately, followed by Valentina's defiant retorts.
Fuck me. More drama.
With a sigh, I rise from my desk. It seems I have more fires to put out before this day is through.
Stepping into the hallway, I see Lorenzo and Valentina facing off, both flushed with anger.
"What's going on here?" I demand, my voice cutting through their argument like a blade.
Lorenzo turns to me, jaw clenched tight. "Valentina was trying to sneak out again. She was planning to meet that boy from her school."
Valentina's eyes flash dangerously. "I wasn't sneaking anywhere! And Marco is just a friend. Not that it's any of your business, Lorenzo!"
"Enough!" I bark, silencing them both. "Valentina, you know the fucking rules. You don't leave this house without permission, especially not to meet some boy we know nothing about."
"But Dad—” she starts to protest.
"No buts." I cut her off with a sharp look. "You're grounded for the next week. No phone, no computer, no leaving your room except for meals and family obligations."
Valentina's face crumples with anger and frustration. For a moment, I think she might argue further, but then she turns and storms off toward her room. The slam of her door echoes through the house.
I turn to Lorenzo, noting the mixture of satisfaction and guilt on his face. "And you," I say, voice low. "I appreciate you looking out for your sister. She's going to rebel; we just need to make sure she's watched."
Lorenzo nods stiffly. "Up her security?"
"Yes. And Sofia's while you're at it. I also want two of our men assigned as Vittoria's guards."
His jaw tenses. I know he's fighting the urge to argue, but instead he gives a small nod and turns, ready to handle what I need.
Christ. I have a feeling things are going to get a lot worse before they get better.
A few hours later and I'm nursing my second cup of coffee when Giovanni appears in my study doorway. Unlike his siblings, he rarely causes trouble, preferring to observe rather than engage. When he does seek me out, it's usually for a good reason.
"Afternoon, Father," he says, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.
"Giovanni." I gesture for him to sit. "What's on your mind?"
He takes the chair Vittoria occupied yesterday, his expression thoughtful. "I wanted to talk about last night. About Vittoria."
I set down my coffee, giving him my full attention. "Go on."
"She's... different to what I expected," he says carefully. "Smarter. More aware."
I lean back in my chair. "You noticed that too."
Giovanni nods. "The way she handled Elisabetta's question about Mother's dress, that was clever. Diplomatic but firm. Most people would have stumbled."
"Your point?"
"My point is that she might be more of an asset than we originally thought." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "But also, potentially more dangerous."
Smart boy. "Explain."
Giovanni's gaze grows serious. "A woman with her intelligence, in her position, she could either be incredibly valuable to our family or a significant threat. It depends on how we handle her."
I study my third son, impressed despite myself. While Lorenzo leads with emotion and the twins operate on impulse, Giovanni thinks things through. Analyzes. Plans.
"What are you suggesting?"
"Don't underestimate her," he says simply. "And don't try to break her spirit entirely. A woman like that, if you crush her completely, she'll either become useless or she'll find a way to strike back when you least expect it."
His words echo my own thoughts from earlier. "You think I should let her keep some fire?"
"I think you should channel it," Giovanni corrects. "Make her feel like she has some agency, some respect, while still maintaining control. Give her responsibilities that make her feel valued but keep her dependent on the family."
I consider this, impressed by his insight. "And if she tries to use that agency against us?"
A cold smile crosses Giovanni's face, one that reminds me, uncomfortably, of myself. "Then we remind her of exactly what she stands to lose."
Before I can respond, my phone buzzes. A text from my head of security: Problem with the Valentina situation. Need to speak ASAP.
Fuck.
"We'll continue this later," I tell Giovanni, who nods and heads for the door. "And Giovanni? Keep this conversation between us for now."
"Of course, Father."
As he leaves, I dial my security chief. He answers on the first ring.
"What's the situation, Marcus?"
"Sir, we have a problem. Valentina didn't just sneak out to meet some boy. She was meeting with reporters."
My blood turns to ice. "What?"
"Local news crew. They've been sniffing around, asking questions about the family, about recent... activities. It seems someone's been feeding them information."
I close my eyes, feeling a headache building behind my temples. "How much do they know?"
"Hard to say, sir. But they were specifically asking about the wedding, about the Costa alliance. Someone's talking."
My grip tightens on the phone. If word gets out about our business before the alliance is secure, it could destroy everything we've worked for. The other families will see it as weakness, as a lack of control.
"Bring Valentina to my office. Now."
"Yes, sir."
I hang up and pour myself another coffee, adding a generous splash of whiskey this time. Between Vittoria's hidden intelligence, Lorenzo's moral objections, and now Valentina's potential betrayal, I'm starting to feel like I'm fighting a war on multiple fronts.
And the enemy might already be inside my house.
Twenty minutes later, Marcus escorts a defiant Valentina into my study. Her chin is raised, her eyes blazing with the same fire that once burned in her mother's gaze. But where Beatrice's fire was tempered with wisdom, Valentina's is pure rebellion.
"Sit," I command, my voice deadly calm.
She remains standing, arms crossed. "I'd rather not."
"That wasn't a request."
After a moment's hesitation, she drops into the chair, but her posture remains rigid, unrepentant.
"Tell me about your meeting last night," I say, keeping my tone conversational. "The real one."
Something flickers in her eyes—surprise that I know, maybe fear—but she lifts her chin higher. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Valentina." My voice drops to a whisper; the tone I reserve for those who are about to learn very painful lessons. "I'm going to ask you one more time. What did you tell the reporters?"
Her facade finally cracks, and I see the sixteen-year-old girl beneath the rebellion. "Nothing," she whispers. "I didn't tell them anything important."
"But you did talk to them."
She nods reluctantly. "They... they approached me at school, said they were doing a story about prominent Boston families. I thought—”
"You thought wrong," I cut her off, rising from my chair. "You thought like a naive child instead of a Mariano."
Tears spring to her eyes, but her voice remains steady. "They already knew things, Father. About the wedding, about Vittoria. I didn't tell them anything they didn't already know."
My jaw clenches. If they already had information, that means we have a leak somewhere else. Someone close to the family.
"What, exactly, did they ask you?"
"About the wedding. About why you're marrying someone so young. About whether it's connected to business dealings." She pauses, swallowing hard. "About whether the family is involved in illegal activities."
Christ. They're fishing, but they're fishing with inside information. Someone's feeding them just enough to make their questions pointed.
"And what did you tell them?"
"That you're grieving Mother and that Vittoria seems nice. That's it. I'm not stupid, Father. I know better than to discuss family business with outsiders."
I study her face, looking for signs of deception. Valentina may be rebellious, but she's not a liar. Not usually.
"From now on," I say slowly, "you speak to no one outside this family without my permission. No reporters, no friends, no boys from school. You've just become a security risk, Valentina, and I don't tolerate security risks."
"You can't just lock me up—”
"Watch me." I move around the desk until I'm standing directly in front of her. "You will go to school and come home. That's it. Any deviation from this schedule will result in consequences you won't like."
Her face crumples, and for the first time since she entered the room, she looks her age. "Father, please. I didn't mean—”
"I don't care what you meant," I growl. "I care about protecting this family. Something you clearly don't understand yet."
She looks up at me with eyes full of hurt and defiance. "Mother would never have—”
"Your mother is dead," I cut her off harshly, watching her flinch. "And if you keep acting like a reckless child, you might join her. Our enemies don't care that you're sixteen, Valentina. They'll use whatever weakness they can find."
She sits in stunned silence, tears streaming down her face. I hate seeing her like this, but she needs to understand the stakes.
"Marcus will escort you to your room," I continue. "You'll stay there until I decide what to do with you."
As Marcus leads a sobbing Valentina away, I sink back into my chair. Between my children's rebellion and a potential leak in our organization, the wedding is starting to feel like the least of my problems.
I reach for my phone to call Domenico. If someone's feeding information to reporters, we need to find out who. And we need to find out fast.
Because if this alliance falls apart before it even begins, we're all fucked.