Chapter 1 Sora #2
That must be the adopted Chiaroscuro brother, the one I’ve heard can end a man’s life in the blink of an eye—and he doesn’t need a gun to do it.
There are five brothers in all, but the oldest, adopted brother’s reputation would indicate he is by far the most lethal.
That means the man to the don’s left must be my intended.
My heart skips a beat as I steal a glance at Leonardo Chiaroscuro for the first time.
Tall and polished, he could be the perfect embodiment of a Roman god, with muscular shoulders that taper to a narrow waist, thick black hair cut short and neatly styled back from his forehead, and a strong brow that effortlessly conveys his emotion.
His proud nose and full lips are set in a sharply chiseled face, and the olive undertone to his golden skin makes him almost glow like fine metal in the entryway’s soft, natural lighting.
He might just be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.
And despite the terrifying things I’ve heard about him and his family for as long as I can remember, he appears not just fashionable but civilized and possibly even capable of being a gentleman.
Despite my revulsion toward the Mafia tradition of arranged marriages, or the fact that he’s a man in his prime and over a decade older than me, the first glimmer of hope flickers to life in my belly.
Leonardo Chiaroscuro and I were born enemies—our families have been feuding for decades—but maybe it doesn’t have to be that way for us.
Maybe Leonardo and I can start fresh.
Maybe we could even be the bridge to build a better relationship between our squabbling clans, like my father hopes.
Hands clasped behind him, Leonardo looks perfectly at ease as he studies the interior of our family home with mild interest.
But when his dark gaze finds me, it feels anything but casual.
My heart jumps into my throat, a shiver racing through me with its intensity.
His eyes are the color of melted chocolate, and the fire in them warns me that I might get burned if I come too close.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as my body responds with an unexpected wave of anticipation.
Heat ignites across my skin as his gaze wanders lazily down my body—not scrutinizing like his father’s but rather like he’s already started to undress me in his mind.
His lips curve into a confident smile, and my spine tingles.
The hunger in his eyes, the wolfish appetite of a hunter that’s just spotted its prey, solidifies the rumors I’ve heard about Leonardo Chiaroscuro.
He knows how to appreciate a woman’s body—even if he only keeps her for one night.
To be the object of his desire could be an unexpected gift.
Or it could leave me quickly discarded while he parades an endless line of mistresses beneath my nose.
I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.
I’ve heard far too many warnings about the Chiaroscuro brothers to believe that this marriage will be anything but a trial to survive.
“Ah, there you are, Sora,” my father says, stealing my attention as he gestures for me to stand beside him.
Forcing my anxiety-stiffened limbs to move, I enter the room, my mother and Kenji coming to stand behind my father as we form a united front before the Chiaroscuro men.
“Chiaroscuro-sama, I believe you are already familiar with my son, Kenji, and my wife, Aya. Let me introduce you to your future daughter-in-law, Sora Tanaka. Sora, this is Don Augusta Chiaroscuro-sama and his sons Leonardo Chiaroscuro-san and Michaelangelo Chiaroscuro-san.”
“It’s an honor,” I say, bending into a respectful bow.
“The rumors of your beauty hardly do you justice, Signorina Tanaka,” Don Augusta says, his words formal, rehearsed even, but his tone is laced with approval. “It’s a privilege and a pleasure to finally meet the Yakuza’s most treasured jewel.”
A snort threatens to escape me, and I keep my eyes focused on the ground as I struggle to maintain my impassive expression. “Jewel”, perhaps, but “treasured”?
I would never go so far as to think I have that kind of value in my family.
I’ve been cut and polished to perfection so my father could sell me off at the highest price, but that does not mean he sees me as worth anything more than the alliance I can broker.
“Thank you, Don Chiaroscuro-sama. You flatter me,” I murmur when I can trust my voice not to betray my cynicism.
“Perhaps I can interest you and Michaelangelo Chiaroscuro-san in some tea while Sora shows her betrothed our gardens?” my mother suggests. “It’s unseasonably warm today, and the snow along the path has melted.”
Cringing inside, I try not to acknowledge the feeling that this tradition of introducing the bride- and groom-to-be comes straight out of the dark ages, when arranged marriages were all the rage and young ladies of repute weren’t allowed to be unaccompanied in the presence of a man.
Like I couldn’t be trusted to keep my virginity unless my family had eyes on me at all times.
It’s archaic.
“That sounds like a great idea,” the don says, gesturing for my mother to lead the way.
Leonardo turns, extending his arm toward me, and my heart skips a beat as I recognize the gesture, though in my culture, just touching him would be a physical display of affection and, therefore, frowned upon.
Anxiety blossoms in my chest, and I glance toward my father.
I might have been raised to be the perfect Yakuza bride, but navigating the territory between our customs and those of the Italian Mafia might be trickier than I imagined.
My father’s gesture is subtle, so much so that I’m sure the Chiaroscuros wouldn’t catch it, but even as his lips press together in disapproval, he indicates that I should take Leonardo’s lead and accept his arm.
Breath trapped in my lungs, I slip my fingers inside the crook of his elbow to lightly rest them against the quality fabric of his navy suit jacket.
My heart hammers at the innocuous touch, the alluring scents of cypress and lemon tickling my nose as I stand closer to a man who is not my father or brother than I have in my life.
The man radiates power and control.
To call Leonardo Chiaroscuro handsome would be an understatement.
It feels as though his presence has made the world vanish around us, overwhelming my senses until the heat of my attraction must be radiating from my skin.
Suddenly, I’m intensely grateful for the foundation hiding my blush, and I part my lips slightly to try subtly regaining my breath as I follow his lead toward the far side of the house.
I feel silly for being so affected, especially when I consider the entire construct of our engagement downright insulting.
As we walk down the hall toward the back of the house, I try to regain my composure, but my body seems to be on a completely different page from my mind.
I might not want to marry Leonardo Chiaroscuro, but something about him undeniably draws me in.
With a bow, one of the staff members slides open the glass door leading out to our tranquility garden.
Gravel crunches softly beneath our feet, and a bird sings cheerfully in a nearby tree, beckoning spring.
“You keep a koi pond?” Leonardo asks, a hint of humor tinging his tone as he turns down the path toward it, away from the covered patio where my mother will serve tea.
I glance up at him from the corner of my eye, trying to read the meaning behind his amusement, and while I’m sure I’ve read his tone right, I don’t quite understand it. “Is that funny?” I ask, my voice measured.
“I suppose not,” he says, glancing over his shoulder as we separate from our less-than-subtle escorts.
Don Augusta and the adopted Chiaroscuro brother, Michelangelo, seem to be paying attention to my parents, engaged in conversation, but my brother is watching us, his smug grin growing, and my stomach knots.
Why do I get the feeling Kenji knows something I don’t?
Willing myself to focus on Leonardo and getting to know my fiancé before we’re married, I deliberately turn away from the scene behind us.
Leonardo’s Italian leather dress shoes rap sharply against the bridge that carries us over the koi pond, and I sneak another glance up at him from the corner of my eye.
“Does your home have a nice garden, Chiaroscuro-san?” I ask lightly, searching for common ground.
His eyes flash to mine, that same intense gaze making my heart flip-flop, and my breath catches as a fresh wave of anticipation rushes through me.
How can he be so good-looking?
He shouldn’t affect me like he does.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” he says, his voice cold now that we’re out of earshot of our families.
“I’m not interested in small talk or pretending to care about who you are.
You’re a tool, a means to an end for my family, and I’ll marry you because that’s what’s required of me.
But I don’t have to like you. And I don’t give a damn if you like me.
So, do us both a favor, Signorina Tanaka, and don’t speak to me.
Hopefully, this farce will be over soon. ”
His words are like a slap to the face, and that familiar ball of lead sinks into the pit of my stomach as I realize that the small glimmer of hope I’d felt about our marriage was nothing but a pipe dream.
This union is going to be the nightmare I always thought it would be.