Chapter 3: Deal or No Deal

Amber’s pov:

“I’m sorry, I think I misheard you, could you repeat yourself?” I ask the tall man in front of me. He, still unbothered and expressionless, says, “I need you to be my wife.” Is he out of his mind? 

Thinking about what happened yesterday, the scene still haunts me. His eyes looked dark and monster-like, and the way he…He sh..shot the other man who was cold-blooded. 

I look up at him and when my eyes meet his, I notice a hint of pain hidden in his eyes behind his long lashes. His curly black hair accentuates his sharp facial features. 

I say, “No deal.” As I start to walk away, his hand snakes my waist and he turns me to face him. My back hurts a little as it is pressed against the well-carved white doorframe. He says in his deep, husky voice, “Look, Amber, I am offering you the deal of a lifetime. You can run your art gallery in peace, and all you have to do in return is pretend to be my wife, only at charity events or some balls and sometimes, around my family.” His grip tightens and he continues, “Think again, carefully, because reckless decisions lead to poor outcomes.”

His words seem to be working on me as I begin to rethink my decision. I say, “I need a few minutes.” He lets go of me and walks out of the room and closes the door like nothing ever happened. 

Standing in front of a long mirror, I think about my family, and I start to tear up again. 

No. No more crying about yesterday. I deserve to be happy and live life the way I want to. Things happen for a reason, right? Yes, they do. This man’s offer will be a jackpot for me. My own father has thrown me out of his house, but I will not mope. I am my mother’s daughter.

I wipe my tears with my hands, inhale deeply, and open the door. As I stand in the hallway, I realize that I am one floor above the ground. The mansion is marvelous, even bigger than the one that I live in. The carvings on the ceiling and doorframes give the house a very antique touch. 

The chandelier is aligned perfectly and the smaller lights complement it.

I see three servants hustling to get their duties done. 

“Done devouring my house with your eyes?” His voice draws me back. I face him and say, “Well, it is beautiful.” He nods. He moves past me, but I stop him with, “Deal.” He faces me. I go on, “Before that, I need to conduct a question and answer session. Also, I’ve got a few more things to add to the deal.” He asks, “Over lunch?” I cross my arms and say, “No, I hate lunch.” He says, “In the evening, then?” I nod.

The helpers lay down a few dresses for me to pick from. I choose the red-colored one. It is off-shoulder and the lace adds to the good texture. I knot my hair into a bun. I never put on makeup until and unless it is a special occasion. 

The clock struck six, and I heard the main door unlock. I step outside my room and see the man walk in. He is dressed in black; his coat, pants, and shirt match. I walked down the stairs, gracefully, and I could feel his eyes tracing every inch of me while still standing in the foyer. 

He extended his arm, but I walked out of the main door right past it. He followed behind and said, “Where are we off to, Amber?” I say, “Anywhere you’d like.” He says, “I was thinking about inside the house.” I roll my eyes at him. He says, “We can sit right here.” He points to the two chairs and a table placed near the fountain. 

I seat myself on one of the chairs. He sits in front of me and says, “You look beautiful in that dress.” I say, “Gives me a good reason to never wear it again.” He smirks and says, “I’m trying to be nice.” I sneer, “Try harder.” He gets up and walks to me. I see a hint of playfulness in his eyes. His hand traces my fingers, then he lifts it and plants a soft kiss, then says, “As you wish.”

He moves away and I gulp. I’m not one to allow people close to me physically or mentally, but I didn’t feel the need to push him away as his intentions didn't seem malicious. 

The rosé wine bottle arrives, and he says, “Ask away.” I begin my inquiry, “What is your name?” He says, “Alessandro Bianchi.” Bianchi? No. That…That belongs to one of the most powerful mobsters in the city. I gulp and ask, “Okay…Who were you shoot…shooting yesterday?” He answers, without a glint of emotion, “Santino Martino’s gang member, he had been hired to kill me and the gang is my biggest rival.” 

I empty one bottle of wine, effortlessly.

Great! I am seated with a gangster. I say, “Alessandro…” His eyes light up when I take his name. I clear my throat and continue, “Alessandro, you are a part of the mafia, what if I die?” He says, “Well, I cannot assure you that you won’t be under attack by marrying me, but you will be safe.” I say, “Screw the attack, I am scared of guns and gunshots, it terrorizes me. Besides, I don’t trust you.” He takes time to think, then says, “Look, Amber..” Not again, the last time he said that my mind took a steep turn in his direction, and with the wine it’ll only add more to the same effect. He continues, “What if I help you get over your fear?” 

The wine took over.

I shake my head and say, “It’s not just a fear, I have been diagnosed with hoplophobia and phonophobia, it might as well be my end if I marry a man from the mafia, and what’s the point in having an art gallery if I don’t live long enough to see it thrive?” He says, “What if I promise to help you cross the bridge?” I repeat, “ I don’t trust you, you can use this against me to torture me, you know?”

He chuckles and says, “Amber, I am not cruel to people without a reason. You will learn to trust me. I will help you with your phobia.” He pats the table and says with an accent, “Another benefit in the favour of Amber Williams.” I laugh. Maybe because of his silly gesture or maybe because I have someone who will help me out with my phobia. Maybe I don't trust him, but at least he has no reason to betray me. 

I sip on the glass of wine in sync with him. Is the second bottle down, or is it the third? I lost count.

He smiles at me lightly. I bite my lower lip and let out a chuckle. Then, he asks me, “Amber, why the passion for art?” I answer, without hesitation, “Art has been an important element in my life. I can display my emotions on the canvas, only using my mind and some brushes mixed with vivid colors. Ever since I was a kid, it is all that I've dreamt of. It was my mother’s dream as well.” My eyes betray me as they start to tear up. I stand up and turn around immediately. After wiping my tears, I ask him, “Why do you want us to play husband and wife?” 

He answers, calmly, “Being the capo of a mafia family, there is constant pressure to increase my power. So, I have been receiving a proposal from Julia Pentanova’s father, who is a rich and powerful man in the mafia. My brother keeps nagging about how important it is to marry her, but I don’t want to.” His frustration is clear in his voice.

I ask, “How is marrying me going to be beneficial to you?” He says, “You are Pietro Williams’ daughter, so with you being my wife, I will have a good hand in the business world, globally.” I should tell him about how I was thrown out of the house, but he might withdraw the contract if I do, so I keep my mouth shut. 

He continues, “But I don’t need anything from your family business, it is just to put on a show for Harlow, my brother.” I stand firm with, “ We, under no circumstances, are letting my family know about this.” He cocks an eyebrow at me. I justify, “My family would not tolerate me marrying someone without their knowledge.” Alessandro’s eyes have a million questions, but he does not ask a thing.  

He puts forth the marriage contract, the part under his name already signed. I pick up the fountain pen placed next to me, and carefully sign under my name. I might be drunk right now, but it is better to do it this way than do it when I’m sober. The deal was sealed.

I made him shake hands with me. Yup, I am drunk.

Before he leaves, I ask him, “Why do you not want to marry Julia?” He is repulsed, “I cannot tolerate her, not even for a second.” I mock him, “How do you know that you will be able to tolerate me?” He comes close to me, and whispers in my ear, “I’m here with you, aren’t I, Tesoro?”