She is only 11 years old."

**Ten Years Ago...**

The sun burned fiercely on the car's windshield that summer morning. If there were several things I hated in life, heat was one of them. It was irritating, made me sweat, and gave me a headache. However, it was a day when I couldn’t let something as trivial as the weather bother me.

It had been a week since my father was killed in an ambush by a rival family, and I had quickly had to take over the family business. Even though I had been prepared for this my whole life, as a prince trained from childhood to take charge of a kingdom, nothing was quite like practice. A traumatic event, like the death of a parent, suddenly thrusts you out of the shadows and makes you an emperor.

Fortunately, I had my younger brothers by my side. They might say it was foolish, but I entrusted them with my own life. Theo and Mateo were with me when I got out of the car in front of a large mansion in Almada, a town near Lisbon.

I slammed the door, hearing the impact before my strength, and adjusted the sunglasses on my nose. Damn sun making my head throb. I straightened my blazer, ensuring the gun tucked in my belt was covered. I shook my head and styled my black hair before following my men into the grand mansion. The very bright and well-lit hall seemed to overshadow the dirty money with which this house and the cars in the garage were probably purchased.

Like any leader in my position, I was responsible for politics. It was impossible to maintain a good regime without important alliances, and it was my duty in light of my meeting with Afonso Barbosa, the head of the largest Portuguese mafia.

I walked down the beautifully decorated hallway, lined with paintings I didn’t care about, and entered a huge living room. My men stood at the entrance, peacefully but with their hands near their weapons, ready to use them if anything became uncontrollable.

The man sitting in a brown leather armchair stood up, holding a glass of whiskey. He had a serious expression, but he smiled when his brown eyes met mine at the entrance of the room, his demeanor proud and firm. I was only twenty-six, but my rifle had already fired more bullets than I could count.

“Marco Belluci.”

“Afonso Barbosa.”

“It’s a pleasure to see you agree to come to my home.”

“We go where business leads us, right?” I shrugged and flashed my friendliest smile. I admit I wasn’t good at this; my mother had called me grumpy since I was a kid. I always frowned, and they barely saw me laugh or play with other children. She complained that my father had placed the crowd's weight on my shoulders too early, but I think he did well; otherwise, I wouldn’t have been so ready for his death if he had done it differently.

“You’re right.” The man set his glass down on a round table beside the armchair and stepped toward me.

My men didn’t move, simply staring at his, who also had guns in hand. If either party decided to shoot, a real massacre would certainly ensue, which was no good for anyone.

“The union of families through marriage is a very ancient custom used to seal agreements for millennia.”

Unfortunately, a great idiocy that had persisted, I just thought. I knew, since I was ready to take this position, that often my personal opinion would clash with the interests of my empire and would have to be set aside, just like this time. Negotiations with Afonso had begun even before my father’s death, and after taking office, I couldn’t back down; otherwise, it would create hostility with the Portuguese that we didn’t need. Moreover, this agreement would be advantageous.

“We need your port for the smuggling entry from Latin America, and you need our protection against the Costas, so that seems fair enough to me.”

“For that, I will deliver to you the most precious asset I have.”

I remained still but had to refrain from scoffing. That nonsense wouldn’t work on me. No man would hand over his daughter to the mafia boss of another country if she was truly his most precious asset.

“Do you want to see her?”

I nodded. That was why I was here, to meet my future wife. Like for other sovereigns throughout history, marriage was just a simple political game and didn’t involve the desire of the heart. This point about my position had been very clear to me since I was a child, and I had no illusions that I would choose a girl I would fall in love with and swear love and fidelity for the rest of my life. I would have a wife to strengthen the mafia and as many whores as needed to satisfy my manly desires.

“Please come with me.” He pointed to the stairs, and I nodded.

Mateo took a step to follow me, but I raised my hand for him to stop. I would go up alone, and my attitude alone was a vote of confidence. Afonso slid his fingers along the dark wooden railing and ascended the stairs. At a comfortable distance, I followed him. My weapon was within reach, and I wore a bulletproof vest under my suit and well-pressed clothes. I trusted my ally, but I wasn’t foolish.

We entered a hallway and headed toward the second-to-last door. Still at a comfortable distance, I waited for Afonso to open the door. He looked inside and waited for me to approach.-

**The first thing I noticed when looking into the room was the pink walls and the canopy bed that seemed fit for a princess. Ironically, nothing suited the wife of a king better. There was a huge shelf filled with toys, and sitting on a fluffy white rug was a little girl playing with a doll. She was distracted and seemed to be having fun, so it took her a while to notice my presence alongside her father. But when she saw us, she got up and ran away, using the pink armchair as a shield to protect herself from my curious and distinctly surprised gaze.**

“It’s just a girl!” I turned to Afonso with a mix of confusion and outrage. “I was hoping to come here and find a woman, not a kid I’d have to take care of. How old is she?”

“She’s eleven.” He swallowed hard.

I couldn’t claim to be a straight man; I had committed many atrocities in the name of the mafia and would do even worse, but taking an eleven-year-old girl as a wife was unthinkable.

“She still plays with dolls.” I shook my head.

“I can’t imagine you’re going to marry her now! I beg you, but you can keep her under your guardianship until she’s old enough to become your wife.”

My first instinct was to say no. I had too many worries, and I didn’t want a child to become one of them. But she was the price to pay for controlling one of the most strategic ports in the Atlantic.

“I’ll see what I can do with her.” I eventually agreed.

My father had told me that when I took over the business, I had to be ready for anything.

“Take care of her.” Afonso reached out to pat my shoulder but pulled back, changing his mind when he met my indifferent gaze.

“I’ll do my best.” My voice was cold and expressionless. I might be a monster, but her father wasn’t far behind.

I heard a whimper coming from another room and a woman groaning. I thought it could be the girl’s mother, but it wasn’t my concern to look after her happiness. In the mafia, everything was business, including children, family members, and even the heart itself.

“Pack the girl’s things; I’ll take her.” I turned away and went into the living room.

I waited for a little over an hour. My brothers exchanged glances with me but said nothing. They knew how important this alliance was for us and that it wasn’t just about my marriage. The decision was mine as the future fiancé and head of the family.

Afonso came down holding the girl’s hand, and as he approached me, she looked at me curiously. I didn’t know what her father might have told her, but her astonishment had faded in her big brown eyes.

“Are you going to take me for a ride?”

“I am.”

“Can I take my doll?”

“You can.”

“Where are we going?”

“To a convent.”

I held the girl’s hand while my brothers took her bags. Her fingers were so small that it seemed difficult to even hold them between mine. I admit I hadn’t paid attention to the girl’s age. My only concern was to go to Portugal and seal a deal, but I had expected to return to Italy with a woman to warm my bed, not a child to care for.

The best idea I had in such a short time was to leave her in a convent, to be cared for by nuns until she came of age, and I wouldn’t have to worry about her until then. Sheltered in one of Italy’s many convents, the young girl wouldn’t bring me headaches until she became a woman.

---

**LAIS'S POINT OF VIEW**

It’s surreal to think that I belonged to a man before I was old enough to understand what love is. It would be comical if it weren’t so tragic. 

My memories before I was entrusted to the care of the nun were very vague. I remembered a very bright and colorful room, unlike the gray one with the little uncomfortable bed I was forced to sleep in every day. The other novices said I was lucky because, unlike them, I wouldn’t become the bride of God but would belong to a flesh-and-blood man who was waiting for me just beyond the walls surrounding the Vatican City.

That might even seem romantic to them, but it wasn’t for me. There was nothing fairy-tale-like about marrying a man fifteen years my senior who had dropped me off in a convent to lead a chaste life until I turned twenty-one.

I hadn’t seen my family in ten years, and I wondered every day if they missed me. I thought they didn’t since they hadn’t called or asked how I was doing. I had asked the Mother Superior several times, but she had nothing to say. Even my mother tongue, Portuguese, was becoming an increasingly vague memory in my mind.

I should have been excited as my birthday approached, but honestly, I didn’t know what to expect, and something inside me told me that a future with Marco Bellucci could be much worse than ten years of penance and chastity.

“Lais?” I heard a knock at my door, prompting me to get up.

“Yes, Sister Mary?” I stood before the door just as she opened it, revealing the very small woman with plump, almost childlike features. Among the many supervisors of the novices, Sister Mary was the kindest. I sometimes imagined she was my adoptive mother, there to take care of me. The little information I had about the world came from her, since our access to the outside was very limited. We had a television in the living room, Vatican newspapers available in the library, and very restricted Internet access on computers, which could only be used twice a week for an hour. I didn’t have a mobile phone, even though I knew what it was, no friends, and all I knew was what was taught under the nuns’ tutelage. The new arrivals brought the latest news, coming for various reasons. Some by choice, and others condemned to live here, like me, by someone who had the power to decide their lives.

The best of them had been Fabiana Rossi. She was the daughter of a wealthy family, always getting into trouble, so her parents sent her to the convent to see if she could get her act together. That obviously didn’t work very well, and she was expelled weeks after joining. However, during her stay with us, she showed me a rubber replica of the male sex organ. I had never seen anything like it and didn’t imagine I would again until my wedding night.

I wouldn’t have any other male contact besides Marco, not even at school. About to turn twenty-one, I would be his little porcelain doll, or at least that’s what the other novices with a bit more sense of the world would say.

There were few things in life I was sure of, mainly because of my limited notion of the world, but I wasn’t looking forward to walking down the aisle with Marco. My memories of him were also vague. During my time at the convent, the man hadn’t bothered to visit me, and I didn’t know what awaited me once I came face to face with him. A bald, pot-bellied old man? It was a possibility...