CHAPTER 2

NIKOLAI

"Father," I greet curtly as I walk into his office. I notice my mother standing behind his chair, where he sits behind his desk.

"Ah, Nikolai. Take a seat," he says, acting as if his entire fucking board did not disrespect me mere days ago.

I remain standing with the same poised expression on my face. He sighs. "Figlio, marriage is vital to becoming a man of full potential. Your mother is the reason I have gotten past the stress and burden it is to be the Don," he says. (Son)

"I cannot give a woman what you have given Ma. I do not love." My voice is cold, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.

"The bond of a marriage is powerful; it gives you the strength to love, share, and express feelings—"

I cut my mother off. "I refuse feeling. I refuse to share my life. I fucking loathe the idea of sharing anything with a mere stranger," I spit out, venom lacing my tone.

"That does not change the truth. The Don must take a wife before he takes over; that is tradition. That is the rule. And we do not bend the rules," Father says in a final tone, his fierce green eyes clashing with mine—identical to his.

"Yeah? Who is going to replace me? Have I not practically run this Mafia for the past three years? What are you going to—"

"Nikolai Moretti! Respect your father and your Don!" My mother raises her voice, making me shut up.

She never raises her voice. I look at Father and release a breath at his angry expression. I can see disappointment lacing his eyes.

They are hell-bent. And he is right.

No one bends the rules. Not even a Moretti. A Made Man is powerful only so long as he is able to uphold tradition and the sanctity of the Cosa Nostra.

I can deny this now and push the limits. I can buy time because I have until I am 30 before I absolutely have to marry. But I know why they are pushing this.

They think I am unhappy. They think that is the reason I am angry and short-tempered and that a wife will fix my rage. What a pathetic reason to marry.

But I can be the man I know I am and face this challenge—like every other challenge in the way of my becoming Don—head-on.

"Bene," I grunt. They are not going to drop this. Tradition means more to them than anything I have to say. "If you insist on this, then so be it. You are my Don." I meet his eyes. (Fine.)

And my father.

"Good." His cool green eyes glint with satisfied pride. "We will go to Carlo Romano's house tonight. His second-born daughter is yet to be betrothed, and your aunt seems to think she is quite the beauty. So I have already accepted her for you," he informs me, making me steam with anger.

A Romano's daughter. For the Don. Christ.

I release an angry breath, exiting without responding. I do not care who it is; it's not like it would be a real marriage anyway.

I hate the idea of a woman being dependent on me again. I cannot take care of someone. I cannot be trusted.

“I’m scared, Colline,” she whispers, gasping with the loss of blood.

“It will be okay, Colline. Papa is coming soon,” I say, desperately trying to free my hands from their tight bondage so I can help my baby sister. “Colline, I’ll even go flower picking with you! I won’t say no again, just—” I grunt, frustratedly kicking my short legs.

“I love you, Nikolai,” she says, her pale lips trying to smile.

“I love you too, Colline,” I say as I watch her bright green eyes slowly become less shiny.

Fuck.

I shake the memory away, heading to the gym to blow off some steam.

ELISSE

It is 7:00 PM, and I am sitting in the smaller common room in the East Wing, reading.

I think the guests are here, but I cannot be sure. It is not a concern of mine anyway. However, Mrs. De Luca has asked me to change into something "more presentable" a total of four times now.

I have not bothered because I doubt they'd even know who I am. I have never stepped foot out of this house. They only take Celeste to the balls; I doubt the guests even know I exist.

I sigh, pushing away thoughts about my depressing life and slipping into the fantasy world of these books.

I hear the door to the East Wing slam shut, and Celeste comes storming toward me.

"You fucking slut," she seethes, making my eyes widen at her use of profanities.

I have no idea what I did, but I am terrified. She can be so mean when she's angry like this, and I never want to be at the receiving end. But somehow, I always am.

"Celeste, w-what—" I sputter in surprise as she grips my arm, pulling me from my comfortable seat.

"You took my heels so I wouldn't look perfect for the Don, didn't you, you pathetic—" She gets cut off by a maid rushing inside, screeching,

"I found them, Ms. Romano! They were hidden under your hair extensions, ma'am!" she breathes heavily, her eyes wide with fear.

Celeste drops my arm and smiles at me menacingly.

"Don't think I don't know how jealous you are that you have to marry some random associate in the Mafia while I get the Don. But don't even think about sabotaging my wedding, Francesca Elisse, or I swear I will break your bones!" she shouts, stomping out after pushing me to the floor.

I groan at the pain that shoots through me and will myself not to cry. I do not even care for ranks and titles. I just wish for some respect.