Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
That’s what my marriage was laced with. I had a job to marry the most dangerous man in all of the outfits—the Seattle Capo, Nico Dante Valiente. He wore blood on his hands as if it were part of his expensive suits. An accessory more defining than a Rolex.
But I needed to do the job for the future of my family, the Notellis. I knew who I was getting into this arrangement with, but I had no idea just how bad the wolf in my bed would be.
She drove me mad. Made everything I stood for seem dismissible. I wanted to break her, show her what it meant to be a Capo’s wife. This capo’s wife. If she was weak, then I looked weak. That simply wouldn’t do.
I would get her to submit—I just knew it. But what was she hiding behind those devious eyes? Would she try to threaten what I built?
She would have a death wish if she did.
Or would I be the one signing up for my own by letting her in too much?
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
EMELIA
“It’s not a marriage of choice, Emelia. You have a duty to this family. Do you want to be the demise of it, or do you want us to reign?” my father seethes, his teeth clenching and spit flying from his lips.
Today is my twenty-second birthday, after four years of me flying under the radar. Most women in the mafia, or bratva, or any such bloodline are married off at eighteen. But there had been no threat. Not one. We had made peace with all the families in the other outfits.
Until now.
The Seattle boss has made himself known and is now the last standing enemy of my father and his reign. Nico Dante Valiente—the most ruthless man of his generation. Word has it, it only takes something as simple as looking at him or his men just a little too closely for him to make a bullseye of your temple.
Now, my father, Giuseppe Notelli, wants me to marry that dangerous man. But not to unite the families. Oh, no—no, that would be too easy. But better, he wants me to marry him as an informant, so my father can end their control in their territory and overtake it. Once they get me in, I’m to find out all the most intimate details, and they’ll kill Valiente, so my youngest brother, Sal, can take over, since he would be next in line.
Because women cannot reign.
But as the widow of the boss, my family would take over if Valiente doesn’t have any other family to claim his outfit.
“How will it be Sal who takes over if you take the man’s entire empire? He could have family, Father,” I address him, but not without some robustness.
My father has always beaten me, treated me like a human punching bag at times, and I’ve decided to run with the most popular motto around here—“If I go down, I’ll go down swinging.”
His eyes darken, narrowing on me.“You must learn to control your tone, Emelia Rene. He has one rule for marrying you.” My father pauses, lighting his cigar and stepping up to me.
As he exhales the smoke in my face, I hold very still, my expression remaining stoic. I will not let him see me crack.
“And what is that, Father,” I mock.
I see it coming but don’t move in time to avoid it. The back of his hand connects with my cheek, my entire head jerking sideways. This has me whimpering, and I hate that I let the sound out.
Never have I hated anyone more than I hate my father. He is no dad. He’s a beast, a monster, a phantom who haunts my days and my dreams. Once, the beating was so bad I had to be hospitalized, and when the staff started to question me, I was removed by my father and left to heal on my own at home. In fact, my broken wrist never did; the bone on the outer side still protrudes. You can see it never healed right, and it aches more frequently than not.
Holding my cheek where the skin is hot and most likely now bruised and scraped from the family crescent ring he always wears, I ask him, “What is the rule, Father?”
He laughs from deep in his gut.“That in the event of his death, you are never to remarry. He doesn’t like to share. Even in death.”
Those words make bile rise. I know I would be stupid to think my father would let me marry anyone outside of this world, but part of me hoped that maybe one day I would find a knight. The ones in all the fairy tales, they slay beasts, like my father. Maybe one would whisk me away to save me from the dangers that fall over my house—over my life. He would spoil me. Protect me. Guard me from the monsters in the night.
But alas, now I know that will never happen.
There was one who did for a time…but he got away.
I shake away the memory of my lost love, not ready to ruminate on that heartache.
“If his entire bloodline were dead, why would we need to live up to that?” I ask, my hand dropping and my eyes following its trail. Cowering, that’s what I’m doing, and I wish I could pull myself out of it.
“Because if other outfits see us not following a post-mortem rule of the fallen boss, then we would be labeled traitors, causing strife we don’t need. So, you will marry this man. He’s coming tomorrow to meet you. Cover the bruise and skip the meals between now and then. You’ll be lucky if he decides to still go through with it when he sees you.”
With that, he turns, and my eyes well with tears.
Why couldn’t I have a father who loves me?
One thing about the Italian mafia, it is nothing like the movies or what you read in books—at least my family isn’t. Not all men and fathers believe in protecting honor when it comes to women. Some do, but most… most treat us as if we are collateral damage or a means to an end.