His Bookshop Bride : Fake Married to The Mafia Heir

Roman

“So what you're telling me” I began in a controlled tone “Is that in order to get the Ricci Family's seal and control the Family completely, I have to get married to someone for a minimum of six months?”

My late father's current solicitor, Jonathan Bianchi, gripped the briefcase like a lifeline.

“I…yes.” he  swallowed, hands folding in on itself. “Th-th-Thats what the contract says Mr Ricci…Sir.”

My eyes narrowed.

“And you're also saying that there is no alternative to these terms?” I asked, raising a brow. “No legal loopholes or technicalities we can use to circumvent this? No forgeries either?” 

I leaned forward as I spoke and the man leaned back, eyes widening.

“N-None at all Sir.” He said, “Your Father was very clear on the terms. Even included a transcript recording of his conversation with my father to make it clear. It must be a legal marriage, following regular procedure and recognised by the law.”

He pursed his lips, clearly holding something back from the way he looked like he was considering between saying it or throwing himself off the building. 

“He also made some things clear in the clause.” After a pause and a visible gulp, he added. “For…for the sake of… continuing the legacy, the marriage must be t-to a living breathing woman.”

There was that. I hadn't even considered the alternative loophole before it was covered.

I stared at him silently, facing the sweating young man a few years — give or take — younger than me.

He was, ironically, also a replacement for HIS late father, my father's original attorney and old friends who'd passed away mere months before he did. I'd met the older man several times when it came to handling several of my father’s private dealings and knew that he was no stranger. He could see a dead body right in front of him, wipe the blood from his shoes and talk about liability terms.

He HAD done so in fact. SEVERAL times. 

He clearly hadn't planned to die, because I doubt he would've left his practice or his son in this sorry state. 

The man in front of me held none of his father's composure or experience in dealing with the Mafia, much less with me, its heir who he was handling the will to. So green, the breakfast I'd eaten would hold more experience dealing with me. 

Now, he truly lived up to his surname in the literal sense, given how pale he'd gotten under the office lighting within the past 12 minutes since I arrived. Staring at him any longer would likely be a health hazard given how he looked one step away from fainting into his briefcase.

I would have been amused enough at his fiddling if it wasn't for the looming dread and frustration that threatened to engulf me.

Closing my eyes, I rested my head back against the couch and threaded through my curls, a low, bitter laugh seeping out of me.

After all his planning, his constant pressure to rule after his death he'd been the one to set the barrier towards it without telling me.

And for what? That I already had the answer too.

“Continuing the legacy,” I chuckled bitterly, “He truly had his ways.”

“Your father was a very determined man,” he said. I slowly rose and looked back at him to find him offering me a weak smile. 

I kept my face straight, digging into him through sheer presence. A few seconds in and that smile faltered, his face immediately folding back to fear and averting to the floor.

Good. I preferred that to useless platitudes. 

The chair scraping rang through the room as I stood up, glancing at the man who'd nearly flinched out of his chair, arms raised in defence. I didn't bother about his overreaction.

“Thank you for your time Mr Bianchi.” I said in a neutral polite tone, “You'll be hearing from me soon. Arrivederci.”

Offering a perfunctory nod, I turned away and walked out of the room, ignoring the man's feeble farewell before shutting the door.

On stepping out of the firm, Alessio, my second in command, was waiting under the streetlights.

“Don?” he asked. I silenced him with a look and  signalled him to follow me towards a corner of the building, away from where the shadows of the car and our men were waiting.

It was already past midnight when we'd arrived here to settle for the last of Angelo Ricci's affairs since his funeral. The path before us was empty and devoid of noise. Still it was best to remain cautious.

Leaning against the corner of the building, I looked at the sky devoid of stars.

“Things…have come to a new turn.” I said in Italian low enough to only be heard between both of us. “My father has apparently added a marriage clause in order to get the seal. A legal marriage for a minimum of six months.”

“What?” He rested back in shock, continuing our conversation in Italian. “Then this means…”

I didn't say anything, but between us, the implications were clear.

The Ricci Family had been settled for generations. Even now in its dwindled state, there were some traditions that couldn't be ignored. The Family Seal was one of them.

Passed down within the family, it was the sole mark of its leader. Whoever held it, was recognised and obeyed as Don, holding supreme control over the decisions within the Family.

For me, it was a done deal. I, as the sole son of my now late father and the only Ricci heir who'd handled his business for years, was already recognised as the head after his passing. In their eyes, the seal had already been passed down.

But I DIDN'T have the seal. Meaning that technically, I wasn't Don.

Taking a deep breath. I tried to arrange my thoughts logically.

What on earth was I supposed to do?

I had no fucking clue.

I'd equally believed that it was a done deal, set to be inherited following his death. In all my time serving him, it had been drilled into me thanks to him that I would be the next Don. To take responsibility for the seal.

He was gone, and he'd thrown a curveball, putting the seal away under the condition of furthering the ‘legacy’.

My jaw clenched, a bitter feeling sinking in my mouth. Of fucking course increasingly creative ways to inconvenience me from beyond the grave. I should have been grateful he didn't detail that if, when, and how I'm supposed to fuck my supposed wife for said legacy, given that was also expected.

But since it wasn't stated, it wasn't necessary either.

“Is there something we can do then Don?” Alessio asked, “We have to speed track the process to get the seal faster. If it's just finding a woman to marry, we can arrange something with a subordinate family. Anyone that has a sister or daughter, if they're willing to—”

“No.” I shook my head. “Not that.”

My belly churned at the thought. Silence grew between us for seconds before Alessio sighed.

“Then…what kind of wife do you want?” he drawled.

That made me scoff. I didn't WANT a wife. I didn't care for intimate relations except strangers to fulfil carnal needs, and that was only on occasion. There was nobody I trusted within. 

But it didn't matter what I wanted. What mattered was what I NEEDED.

Closing my eyes, I made a checklist of the ideal.

The first and foremost was being unrelated to the Ricci Family or anyone aware of it. Those within the circle were too much of a risk, whether it came to keeping secrets or causing tension within the family hierarchy. That completely cancelled out any subordinate's relatives. For the maximum safety, she had to be completely unrelated and ignorant, meaning any subordinate relatives were out of the way. It made negotiations easier and also ensured a clean break after. 

The second was intelligence, an obvious standard.

The third was adaptability. Even though no secrets would be shared, she had to know enough to not prove to be stubborn.

The fourth and most important, of course, was practicality. If I was to do this, I needed someone who was detached enough to mind their own business without inquiring or caring. 

What the hell was I doing? 

I scoffed. With all these conditions, I might as well pray for the perfect woman to fly from the sky. 

What I needed was to not need to make a fucking checklist of build a personality profile for a woman who did not exist.

This was ridiculous.

“Ensure that this remains between us. We can't afford the men knowing.” I said, “Is there any news on HIS end?”

“Yes.”  He replied. “He’s currently gone off the grid. There's little clue on his whereabouts. I suspect an attack is coming soon.”

My chest tightened at that. Marco Ricci, my uncle by blood, disowned and shipped off  by grandparents I never met for reasons I didn't know of long ago. Had it not been for the threat of his presence following the funeral, I wouldn't be so worried.

The Ricci Family was influential decades ago, now to be called a Family was an overestimation. Like a curse, every biological member died off one by one, with no new members or births until our family line was thinned to a linear branch. With it, its businesses declined. 

Now, aside from a few underground transportation services, security and the mass of generational money, assets and businesses connecting allies and the linked subordinate families under us. 

Apparently, before leaving Marco cursed his parents then that they would die off without seeing any proper fruits to their labour. And when it was over, he would finish the job and take over.

He'd gotten most of what he wanted. His parents, my grandparents were ashes, long swimming with the fishes.  My mother withered away a decade ago and my father, now officially dead for a week, was gone too. 

The Ricci Family line had been reduced to the two of us, and when it came to controlling what ashes were left, there could only be one.

My jaw clenched. I tapped on Alessio’s shoulder.

“Let's go.” I said in English. Together, we walked back to the car.

“To the mansion, or your penthouse?” he asked and my jaw clenched.

“Neither.” I replied. “Take me to the outskirts. I want to see the sights.” 

He, alongside my other men, looked surprised, but didn't question it. I slid into the car and they followed until we drove off.

The scenery passed us by. Leaning against the closest window, I let my haze fly past the duty skylines and the night scenery.  

The further we moved from the familiar areas, the less familiar things I saw. For the first time, I let myself truly look at the buildings that passed me by.

I'd passed through these same roads multiple times, whether for a mission, a business meeting or transport, but I'd barely seen any of the sights.

The walls around my life were cemented from the start. Leading up to this moment, there was the constant expectation of who I was to become. The organization I was to take over as the new Don. The legacy I was supposed to further.

My life had always been centered around Don Angelo Ricci, my late father, and the Family's legacy.

Now one of them was gone and the other was not completely in my grasp either.

Angelo Ricci’s death had been a week ago, but I didn't feel any bone crushing grief. My mind was set on one of two emotions, both I hadn't decided on. 

Was it that I resented him, after everything he'd done or did I, even if begrudgingly, miss the sense of direction his presence gave?

I had no fucking clue.

Perhaps that was the cruelest part. I had spent so much of my life trying to become who he wanted that I never learned how to feel anything about him without contradiction.

The world seemed impossibly large and for the first time in my life, there was no one beside me to tell me what to do with it.

“Stop.” I ordered after nearly half an hour of driving nonstop. The sky had darkened into night. Our car and that behind us stalled. Stepping out, I let the cool night breeze sweep over me.

This place on the outskirts was one I'd never been in before or perhaps only passed by through my destination. It was quiet, akin to a countryside with how deeply it contrasted the buzz of the city. This place, it seemed, slept  early. Aside from a few street lamps, there was nobody present, all the shops closed leaving only darkness.

It was peaceful.

I reached the  edge of the bridge. Over the expanse of water from the distance, I could see the Metropolis I came from. 

How would it feel, to build a life like that?

Pulling out a cigarette, I smoked until it was done. I pulled out my phone, an untenable urge pushing me to find her contact. It didn't take long 

‘Ginny’ 

My finger hovered over the button, but in the end I didn't push it. This wasn't her life. She wouldn't understand it either. No matter how lonely I was, there were some things that needed to be kept away.

I put down the phone, flicking away the butt of the cigarette and straightened. 

A slight sensation jerked my instincts. My haze flitted slightly to the edges of darkness beyond the dim streetlights. There was nothing in sight, nothing that my eyes could see at least. 

But still, my jaw clenched. I felt it deep in my gut. 

It was time to leave.

Pushing past the growing suspicion, I entered the car, closed the window glass and sent a quick text before turning to the driver.

“Let's go.” I ordered, waiting to drive off when a gunshot made me freeze.