Chapter 2

It’s the end of the banquet, and I’ve managed to pull my father and Stefan into one of the ready rooms. The second the door closes, I light into my father.

“I am not marrying Dante Luciano! I don’t care what you have to do to get out of this, but there is no way in hell I would ever marry that fuckboy!” I yell.

“Lower your voice,” my father snaps, glancing anxiously at the door. “The Don might hear you!”

“And so what if he does? Who gave him the idea I would marry his son? What have you gotten us into, Father?” I demand, stepping closer. The Lucianos are nothing but thugs in Gucci suits. I will never get in bed with them—literally or figuratively.

Stefan steps between us, his hands separating me from our father. His voice stays calm, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. “Quinn, you’ve got to calm down. Father’s right—we can’t let the Lucianos hear this conversation. Especially not after that was just televised to the entire city.”

I’m ready to argue, but Stefan gives me a look that says he’s not finished. I clamp my mouth shut. He turns to Father.

“Now, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do. Why did you do this, especially without even talking to Quinn?”

Father still looks anxious, but I see him slowly shift into the business persona we’re so used to seeing in the boardroom. “I’m doing what’s best for the business—and for our family. Sales haven’t recovered since the pandemic. We’re not making anywhere near the money we used to, and nothing we’ve tried has made the impact we need. The Lucianos’ influence can help.”

He’s not wrong. It’s been a struggle attracting new authors since the pandemic. Most are turning to book apps, e-books, or self-publishing. They might not get a physical book deal, but they get international distribution and fast returns—all from their couch.

And readers? That’s even harder. When your competition offers free ebooks, who’s going to pay for a paperback? Even if they aren’t the same quality, they’re free. It’s a tough hustle to beat.

The drop in profits has hit hard. We’re not signing nearly as many contracts as we used to.

“How the hell are the Lucianos going to help with our bottom line?” Stefan asks. The curiosity in his voice feels like a gut punch. He knows how much this company means to us. He’d do anything to keep it afloat.

Even marry me off to a mobster.

“Their electronics division is expanding into publishing. They want to create a new platform—with our help. It would be a 50/50 split and help us adapt to how the industry’s changing,” Father says, his expression pleading.

Stefan goes quiet, clearly weighing the implications. And just like that, I know I’ve lost his support.

“And why do they want me?” I rasp, the betrayal sitting like lead in my chest. I’ve been sold—for the price of our company.

“That’s an easy question to answer,” says a new voice behind me.

Don Luciano.

And beside him—my so-called fiancé.

I’d been so caught up in the conversation, I didn’t even hear the door open.

“You’re one of the city’s sweethearts,” Don Luciano says. “There are entire blogs, websites, and newspaper articles about how much people love you—and how much you’ve done for this city. We want to bring that energy, that joy, into our family.”

“So you want to use me to clean up your image,” I snap.

Father is beside me in an instant, yanking my arm back so he can whisper in my ear.

“Do not fuck this up for us. Show respect.”

His fingers dig into my wrist, hard enough to bruise. I freeze. My father has never laid a hand on me or Stefan. The pain shoots up my arm and into my shoulder, and I’m too stunned to react.

It must show on my face, because Dante speaks up—voice flat, expression unreadable, but his eyes are locked on my father’s hand.

“I’d let go of my fiancée, Mr. Rothschild,” Dante says. “I don’t like my things getting damaged.”

Thing?

Did he just call me a thing?

But I don’t even have time to respond.

Father goes pale and releases me so fast I stumble. He actually steps back as Dante stalks forward—though he still hasn’t looked me in the eye. It’s like I disgust him. Like he’s just as unwilling as I am.

Dante takes my hand, inspecting my wrist. When he sees the redness, he tsks and gently leads me to a chair. He knocks on the door and asks someone outside to bring ice.

Then, without another word—or glance—he returns to stand beside his father.

So I really am just a thing to him. A pawn.

Don Luciano carries on like nothing happened. “I’m sorry you were kept in the dark, passerotta (sparrow). But privacy was necessary. Don’t worry—everything will be taken care of. The wedding. The dress. Even a job in the new platform we’re creating. Once the wedding is complete and the dust settles, we’ll begin helping your company.”

I’m speechless. Completely stuck in place.

But Stefan finds his voice and asks the one question that changes everything.

“When’s the wedding?”

The Don smiles, while his son looks like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“A week from tomorrow.”