CHAPTER 4

NIKOLAI

I walk back to the room that my parents are in and see a new face. I am assuming that is Celeste.

Just as I expected: blonde and bimbo-like.

"Ah, Nikolai, caro, this is Celeste," Victoria squabbles as her daughter turns to look at me fully, giving me a big, creepy smile.

I never forget a face. It is a curse, perhaps, or a Moretti gene.

This woman is familiar for one reason only: she caused a commotion at one of our establishments last week.

I was unfortunate enough to be present. But not as unfortunate as my brother Liam, who had to attend to the fiasco when this illiterate hag threw a drink in a waitress's face.

I had simply witnessed it from a distance.

It was a hindrance then, but as it would appear, an important one.

"I was just describing to the Donna—her hobbies are so very genial; she is such a homebody, always cooped up in the kitchen cooking something. She made these—"

"I am not marrying her," I say to my father, who gives me a questioning look.

"Figlio, that is not the proper way to—"

"Papa, era nel nostro club, trasandata e ubriaca, a baciare ogni uomo che vedeva; l'ho visto con i miei occhi. E grazie a Dio l'ho fatto," I grunt, making my mother and her gasp.

(She was at our club, sloppy and drunk, kissing every man she saw; I witnessed it with my own eyes. And thank God I did.)

My father growls, standing up with the legendary fury of a Moretti.

The corner of my lip tilts in satisfaction.

"Capo—" Romano sputters.

"We are done here, Romano. The future Donna needs to have her honor intact. It is blasphemous to suggest one that is not; I will be addressing this with the board. You have wasted my son's time," Father booms, his gravelly voice seeming to shake the room.

And Romano's tiny heart.

"Don, it was not my intention. I would offer you something else if I had it, but I need this alliance. My position is weak after the demise of my brothers; I need this to work," he pleads with him. "I will be disgraced in the Mafia."

"As will I!" Father roars, making the three of them cower. "A broken marriage pact! Disgusting," he spits.

"I will do anything, Don. I want to fix this mistake my daughter has made—"

"You have another daughter, do you not?" Father asks, making the Romanos go pale.

I look at my father, hoping he is not going to do what I think he is. "Is she the same as this one, or is her honor intact?" His question is laced with a threat.

"Amanda's daughter cannot be any less honorable than Celine," my mother speaks for the first time in a while.

Who is Amanda?

"I wish to see your oldest daughter. Now, Romano," Father says when the Romano hesitates, the use of his first name making him pale and sweat profusely.

I unbutton my suit jacket, taking my previous seat as I watch my father fume in his angry state, while my mother squeezes his arm in assurance.

I do not care who it is I marry; it will all be the same to me.

Soon, we see the small girl I had talked with minutes ago enter. Her hair is pinned more neatly now, and her face is free of any streaks. She walks toward us but does not go to her father, just standing there like she feels out of place. Her eyes are trained down.

"She's beautiful," my mother whispers beside me.

"I think looking at her we can determine everything we need to know," my mother asserts, mainly to the Don.

He nods.

"She will be the future Donna," he declares, making Francesca's head snap up in her family's direction.

She then looks at me, and her eyes widen in realization. Is she really that unfiltered?

"B-but sire, she is betrothed to Associate Sterling already," Romano sputters. I feel spikes of venom in my hollow chest, probably at the disrespect he is showing.

I look at her again, and her head is down this time. She looks pale with fear, her body cringing away from the two women throwing daggers at her with just their eyes.

I glance at her mother and sister, who are both looking at her with hateful expressions.

"I do not know of an associate that will deny the Don or my heir." My father's angry tone is enough to dismiss any remaining doubts about her being my betrothed.

"I do not even see a ring. Have they courted?" Father asks.

I glance at the smaller woman's empty left hand, my ears straining for the answer to the hanging question.

"No, they have yet to even meet; he asked for her hand a week prior," Romano informs.

Good.

"Good, come here, ragazza," Father motions for her to come closer. My eyes get caught on her upper arm, where a red bruise is visible. My jaw clenches at the sight. (Girl.)

Stronzos.

My mother holds out her hand, making Francesca stare before she hesitantly places her small hand in Mama's.

The Donna clasps the girl's hand with both of hers. "Dolcezza, are you alright?" she asks her, making the younger girl look up, scared. She nods, glancing at her father with beady, fearful eyes. (Sweetheart.)

"The engagement will be tomorrow," Father announces before walking out. My mother says something to the girl, leaving her with a parting embrace, then walks out as well.

I do the same after a long, last look at her.

FRANCESCA

"YOU SLUT, WHAT DID YOU DO?!" Celeste launches herself at me, making me flinch away, but Father catches her arm and swings her right back.

"You have no right to be angry at Francesca. She has saved my honor and this family in front of the Don—do not touch her. She is someone else's property now; I cannot afford a bruise on her skin," he says before turning to me.

"Go to your room, girl," he says. I thankfully sigh, running out as fast as I can, hearing my father say behind me,

"I'm serious; do not touch her. She bruises, and I will not be so lenient with the two of you."

My feet quicken their stride, my tears falling freely as I hurry to my room.