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“The High Table will not move against the marriage law—”
“You are the High Table—” I try to cut in but clamp my mouth shut when he raises his hand.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that Dad is the don of the Italian Mafia and sits at the head of the High Table. The name DiAngelo is feared by many near and far. In his early years as Don, before he took over as the leader of the High Table, Dad was ruthless and cunning in growing his various family businesses. He earned the loyalty of his men by ensuring they were well-paid and looked after. Dad single-handedly organized Miami’s criminal underworld, taking control and making our enemies think twice before crossing Dad or risk facing his brutality.
“If you insist on pursuing a relationship with this girl, then I have no objections.” I wait for the “but” to come. “But.” There it is. “If you do, you do so understanding that Raphael will remain the named heir of the family and future High Table leader. So what will it be, Michael?”
I glance at my brother, who sits silently fuming beside me. He's notmad at me. No. He’s mad for me. It guts me that my happiness will come at the cost of his...again. Because if I pursue a relationship with Rose, then that’s it for Raphael. He will remain heir, a title he doesn’t want. But if I allow Dad to arrange an appropriate marriage for me now that I’ve been proven fertile, I could be the heir once more, but then I would lose Rose and any chance of a life with her and Liam.
It feels like I’m being forced to choose between Rose and Raphael. Between my new family and my current family. Because that’s exactly what it is. Keep Rose and lose my birthright, trapping Raphael in a life he never considered. Or secure my birthright and lose Rose, but free Raphael.
Choices and consequences.
Damn them both.
Rose offers me everything I’ve ever dreamed of and wanted but never imagined I’d ever find.
Breaking a heart is inevitable, regardless of which choice I make. But I have to make one.
I open my mouth to answer when Raphael cuts me off. “I’ll remain the heir. Allow Michael the chance to be happy with Rose and their son.”
“Raphael,” I breathe out his name. “Brother, please.”
My twin turns to me, and my breath catches in my chest. In his eyes, I see the sacrifice he’s willingly making for me and the acceptance of his decision. “It’ll be okay, Michael. I want to do this. I need to do this.”
Foolishly, I somehow thought Rose and Liam would release him from his obligation, had hoped that Dad would understand, but hearing him accept his fate out loud is like a punch to the gut.
Dad nods. “I’m pleased to hear this. The High Table has been growing restless with you in this position without a secured marriage contract. I’ve been discussing options with your uncle, and I believe we have found a suitable match for you.”
“Who?” Raphael asks, his tone even like he’s discussing business, which, in a way, he is.
“The youngest daughter of the Cosa Nostra family in Sicily. She’s beautiful, kind, smart, well accomplished, and—”
“How old is she?” Raphael interrupts.
Dad presses his lips into a thin line, and it’s clear we won’t like the answer. “She just celebrated her eighteenth birthday last month.”
Raphael stands so quickly the motion causes his chair to topple backward and crash to the floor. “Are you joking? I’m not marrying a child.”
“She is not a child. She is a grown woman who—”
“She’s younger than Gabriella. How would you feel about marrying her off to a man fifteen years her senior?”
“We’re not discussing Gabriella’s marriage prospects right now,” Dad replies, avoiding the question with ease. “This is not up for debate, Raphael. We need this right now. The High Table is too unstable as it is with the fucking Triads running us ragged.”
“There has to be someone else. Someone older, at the very least.”
“You will like her, son. I’ve met her over video conference, and she’s a very nice young woman. She grew up in the life and is well aware of what being your wife entails. She’ll give you children to carry on the family name,” Dad explains. “And who knows? You may even grow to love her.”
And now I understand why Mom was playing the piano when we arrived. She knew this conversation was coming. Family duty is a sore subject in this house. When my marriage to Sophia was in the planning stages, I remember quite vividly the dozens of arguments they shared. Some ended up with Dad sleeping on the couch for days on end. Mom hates everything to do with the idea of an arranged marriage, and now here we are again, coming full circle, ready to repeat the process with Raphael.
I watch my brother’s face, a mirror image of my own, and see the range of emotion there. Anger, heartache, pain, and sadness crash together into a blend of emotional turmoil, and I know he’s on the verge of erupting.
“Her name is Emilia. She will arrive before Christmas, and you will be married on New Year’s Eve.”
24
Michael
