All Chapters of Yours On The Dotted Line: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

“Father, why are we here?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time.We’re sitting at a long table on a raised dais in a massive banquet hall. At least 300 people are here—more than some of my friends’ weddings.And on the other side of my father, sharing our table, is Don Rafel Luciano—the head of the Italian mafia in this part of the city.Our family owns a well-off, though relatively small, publishing house in New York: Rothschild’s Reads. My great-grandfather started it when he came to America, and it’s been a point of pride that we’ve never let the mafia get its fingers into our business. Not once. Not ever.So why the hell are we sitting here at a banquet, sharing a stage with them?“I told you, Quinn. We’re doing what’s best for the company—and for the family. This is about a merger,” Father snaps. He’s been like this a lot lately, and I don’t understand why.He used to be kind. Caring. A great dad. Lately? He’s been cold. Angry. Paranoid.And now he wants to merge with the

A week?!It feels like all the air has been knocked out of my lungs. If I hadn’t been sitting, I probably would’ve collapsed. The words around me sound like they’re being spoken underwater, and it takes several seconds to process them.“A w-w-week?” my brother sputters. “Why so soon?”“We’ll have all the technology, domains, and legalities squared away by then,” Don Luciano replies, his tone clipped. “Then we can roll out the second phase of the project—where Rothschild’s Reads will play a key role. We’ll need your help identifying and signing authors, providing editing services, and handling all copyright work.”“I should think you’d want some cash flow into your company as soon as possible.”Through it all, my father just stands there. Silent. Staring at the floor. Waiting for it to be over.There’s a knock at the door. Dante answers it and takes a bag of ice from someone on the other side. He walks over to me, kneels to my level, and takes my hand.More gently than I would’ve though

I’m livid.In what world would any self-respecting woman willingly follow this contract? I can’t even look at my fucking “fiancé” while this circus plays out—nor at my father or brother. My eyes stay locked on Don Luciano.My face is stony, my eyes flashing. The pinched expression on Emilia’s face tells me exactly what she thinks of the contract too—but she says nothing to help me.Stefan tries to speak. “I don’t think you can truly expect my sister to—”“I would like to speak with Don Luciano, my father, and my fiancé alone,” I say, cutting him off.“Quinn—” my father starts, but the Don beats him to it.“Go,” he says, his voice absolute.The lawyers immediately rise and file out. Emilia stands next, her face still tight until she turns to Stefan. “Come, Mr. Rothschild. Let me show you the library. I hear you’re fond of rare first editions. My husband has a Charles Dickens I think you’ll enjoy.”I can feel Stefan’s eyes on me, silently asking for connection, but I won’t look at him. M

I’m standing in Kleinfeld’s Bridal Salon, Don Luciano having rented out the entire place. It’s just me, Grayson, and Emily—my best friend. My wedding party is full of Luciano family members, their only concessions to mine being Stefan on Dante’s side and Emily as my maid of honor. Every single Luciano wanted to attend today’s appointment—none more so than Dante’s mother, Emila, and his sister, Bianca.I don’t know how Grayson pulled it off, but he managed to schedule their dress fittings at the same time as my appointment, playing it off as a “logistical error.” With the wedding so soon, there wasn’t much they could do about it. Oops. I’m so upset…Emila wasn’t pleased, but I reminded her she’d be seeing me in the dress in less than a week. Not like this is going to be a real marriage anyway.The only demand the Lucianos insisted on was that I be followed by a guard everywhere. So here stands Josiah Luciano, Dante’s cousin, posted at the salon’s entrance—looking bored and entirely out

Emilio drives us to Warren Tricomi, one of the best hair salons in the city. On our wedding day, they’ll be sending several stylists, makeup artists, and manicurists to take care of us onsite. All the women in the bridal party will have their own consultations.But with my workload and the nightmare that is planning this spectacle—I mean, wedding—I’m handling mine alone.Poor Em has hers with the Lucianos tomorrow. I do not envy her.The whole ride to the salon, I stare out the window. It’s only three miles, but in true New York fashion, it takes twenty minutes.I finish the whiskey Dante gave me. He reaches over and takes the glass. “Do you want another?”I just shake my head, gaze fixed on the passing blur of buildings. I’m not really seeing any of it. My mind is caught in a storm of everything I’ve just learned.The second Don Luciano claimed me publicly, I became a weakness. And people saw it. Death threats were sent to my family.And my father never told me.He never warned me. Ne