CHAPTER 2

During dinner, I noticed my father was completely distracted, his gaze resting on me, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to. My mother, on the other hand, looked like she’d just received an invitation to an exclusive Chanel summer sale.

I waited for my father’s permission to leave, after i finished my meal. My mind was already drifting to the painting I’d spent hours on that morning. It was a project I’d been immersed in, especially now that I’d graduated high school, finally giving my creative side some space to breathe.

Then suddenly my dad cleared his throat rather loudly. “We need to have a talk with you,” he said.

My pulse quickened. The last time he’d used those words was when he’d told me my fiancé had been killed in a Bratva attack. The news hadn’t affected me as deeply as I thought it would have; we’d only met once, years ago, and there was no connection between us. In short, i was somewhat grateful; the universe just wasn't in his position that day.

My mother had grieved more than I did—but not for him. Her grief was for the scandal of me being left without a fiancé at seventeen. Like … i wasn't even supposed to have one in first place but i guess that's beside the point.

“We’ve found you a new husband,” my father announced, barely hiding his excitement.

“Oh,” was all I managed to say. I’d expected marriage to come up eventually, though I’d hoped I might have some say in making the choice this time around.

“He’s an Underboss!” my mother blurted out, grinning.

I raised an eyebrow, understanding her excitement. My late fiancé had only been the son of a Captain—a match that had clearly been underwhelming for my over ambitious mother. I wracked my brain, trying to think of any Underboss close to my age, but came up blank. “Who is he?” I asked.

My father looked away. “Nicolas Moretti.”

Shit !

My mouth fell open. The name Nicolas Moretti had echoed through the Famiglia for months. Known as the cruelest Underboss, he’d recently lost his wife, leaving him to care for his two young children alone. Rumors about her death were rampant: some said he’d killed her in a rage, others claimed she’d died from the stress of his rule, and the most chilling theory suggested she had taken her own life to escape him. None of it made me eager to meet him, let alone to even marry him.

“He’s much older than me,” I finally said.

“Thirteen years, Isabella. He’s a man in his prime,” my mother replied sharply.

“Why does he want me?” I asked, bewildered. We’d never met; he didn’t even know me. I had no experience raising children.

“You’re a Rizzo. The union of two prominent families is always desirable,” she explained, with a wide smile spread across her lips..

I glanced at my father, but he was focused on his wine glass. Only recently, he’d mentioned Nicolas in passing, saying Luca, their Capo, had made him Underboss because they were alike—both relentless, pitiless, and physically intimidating.

Now, my father was offering me to a man like that.

“When?” I asked, sensing my mother already knew the details.

“One day after your birthday,” she replied with a smile.

I raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised you waited until I came of age. We’re hardly known for following the law.”

Her expression dulled. “Lose that tone before meeting Nicolas. A man like him won’t tolerate insolence.”

I clenched my hands under the table. My mother’s driving force had always been to elevate our family’s standing in the familiga nothing more. She couldn't care less if her actions where ending my life potentially.

She stood and brushed a hand over my cheek. “This will be the event of the year,” she declared, clearly already planning the wedding.

She looked me over critically. “I’m not sure Nicolas will approve of your sullenness… or those bangs.”

“She looks fine, Egidia,” my father interjected.

My mother pursed her lips. “Pretty, but not sophisticated or ladylike.”

“If Nicolas wants a lady, he shouldn’t be robbing cradles,” I muttered.

She gasped, hand flying to her heart, my words. My shocking her while my father stifled a laugh with a cough.

Once my mother left in a huff, my father sighed, giving me a weary smile. “Your mother only wants what’s best for you.”

“She wants what’s best for our status. How is marrying a ruthless man good for me, Dad?”

“Come on,” he said, gesturing toward the garden. “Let’s take a walk.”

I took his arm, and we stepped into the warm, humid night. “Nicolas isn’t that old, Isabella. Just thirty-one.”

I tried to picture someone around his age, but my mind kept drifting to Luca, my cousin, whose cold demeanor and arkwardstance terrified me. If Nicolas was like that…

A flicker of unease crossed my face. “What if he’s—”

“Don’t look at me like that, Isabella. Becoming Nicolas’s wife isn’t as dire as you think.”

“You once called him ‘irrevocably cruel.’ Remember?”

He nodded, guilt shadowing his eyes. “To his men and the enemy. Not to you.”

“How can you be sure?” My voice trembled. “What if he killed his wife?”

“Luca assured me Nicolas wasn’t responsible.”

“You trust Luca? Didn’t you say he’s trying to consolidate power?”

He sighed. “I told you too much.”

“How can Luca even know what happened to Mrs. Moretti? Family matters stay private.”

His grip on my shoulders tightened. “Nicolas won’t lay a hand on you if he knows what’s good for him.”

But I knew my father wouldn’t risk confronting Nicolas if it came to it. Nicolas had Luca’s favor. My father would suffer if he interfered.

“He’ll come to meet you tomorrow,” my father added, almost as an afterthought.

“Tomorrow?” I asked, startled. I’d assumed their first meeting would be formal, with me staying in my room as they discussed my future without my choice.