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I, however, love my body, and no matter how hard my parents have tried to bring me down, that love for myself never wavered. Because of them, my life was built around vanity, not brains or ambition. I wanted to go to college, get a degree, have a mind of my own, but that was never my fate.
It’s clearly to be the wife of a homicidal egomaniac.
I graduated high school at eighteen, then I became captive to the gym, this home, and my room. The most interaction I have is when I talk to the other daughters of the outfit at balls, auctions, and luxurious events. Shopping sprees with the spawns of Satan—my parents—hardly count as free time. They ridicule me and press hard on me with their heavy thumbs.
There is a life outside of these walls that I wanted to explore. But now? Now, I will be used as a ploy and be passed on like a used puppet to a new string master.
One who might even be worse than those I currently live with.
CHAPTER ONE
NICO
“You’re tellingme that he took off with an entire shipment of goods, Levetti?” I place my hands in my pockets, my stance dominating, my feet planted as I tilt my head to the side and assess the men who are supposed to be professionals. Men I trusted to keep my business solid. And now they cower in front of me—because they’ve failed me.
I see the fear in their eyes, the sweat beading on their foreheads. They know all too well what happens to men who cost me money and have stolen property. What’s mine is mine, and anything taken from me only leaves the thief good as dead.
“Giulio, can you tell these men what happens when something of mine is taken?”
My right-hand man, theonlyman to date who has not let me down, nods.
“Tell or show?” he questions, and this has me clicking my tongue and smirking.
“Tell them today. I’m short on men and need all the working kneecaps I can get.”
With that, he steps in front of the men, who are all lined up.
“Find the shipment, or not only will the cargo be missing,” he whispers, his Italian accent thick, “but so will your bodies.”
I turn and walk away, listening to him provide one swift blow to Levetti’s stomach. Pulling my phone from my suit pocket, I see New York calling.
“Giuseppe. What is it? I’m working.” Annoyed, I ask the father of my betrothed this while checking my watch to see I have to catch my red-eye to New York to meet my new bride. One I don’t care to marry but know it must be done to bring the last two outfits at war together as allies.
At least, that's what Giuseppe thinks. I have my own fucking agenda. To him, I was just the kid who grew up and went to school with his son. So stupid. He is the lousiest man I have ever met, the most ill-witted man alive. He has no idea that I know everything he’s planned.
This marriage is for revenge, the complete opposite of what he thinks it to be.
However, the marriage won’t just aid me in my plot for revenge, because there is the fact that I’m not getting any younger. I need an heir, someone to take over the name after I’m old, dead, and gone. In order to make all three things happen, I need to marry Notelli’s only daughter, Emelia.
“Nico. So harsh. We are to be family soon, and you’re taking my daughter all the way to Seattle. We must be able to break bread and do so frequently,” he drawls, and I roll my eyes, unlocking the Maserati and climbing in. “You know, to keep in touch with our sweet Emelia.”
Her name matches her beauty, but that is all there is to her. No educational background, no hobbies, nothing. When I did my research on her, I was disappointed to see she will be good for nothing but breeding and wearing on my arm.
I had one rule to ensure the safety of my outfit. That she will never remarry. Granted, I plan to build my empire with heirs and die at an old age, but in my line of work, I’m a walking target at all times. I will not let my men and my Seattle reign be brought down. The only options in my absence are either my child or my wife’s brother. Yet the latter will never happen, not when I’m done. I haven't even told Giulio, my underboss, my plans for this marriage, and I intend to keep it that way until it’s time to put the pedal to the metal.
Tomorrow, I will meet her. And by the end of the week, she will be Mrs. Valiente, wife of the ruthless mafia boss, Nico Dante Valiente. Poor woman, she will never see it coming—what it means for me to be her husband and her my wife. She is a pawn, and there’s no guilt within me knowing this. I have no conscience. My dead father, God rest his soul, taught me to be a merciless leader, a man everyone quakes in the presence of. He always knew I would be his shadow and grow to be the best made man he trained me to be.
“What can I help you with?” I rev the engine.
“Listen, my daughter may have a little bit of snark to her, and as a man, I felt it was appropriate to come to you and let you know she can be easily—” He hesitates, and the skin around my green eyes tightens. Where is he going with this?“—placed back into submission with the right amount of force.”
Is he calling me to tell me not only does he beat my future bride, but that I must do the same? The nerve. The egotism. Who does he think he is to call and tell me this? And secondly, who is he to tell me how I will handle my own wife when she is disobedient to me?
Running one hand through my black hair, I shake my head, my tongue grazing my top teeth.
“Giuseppe, I mean this with the most disrespect one man can probably produce. If you ever touch my wife in that manner again or tell meIshould, I won’t hesitate to show you the same treatment. This arrangement doesn’t keep you safe from my wrath if you fuck with anything that is mine,” I growl.
There is a moment of silence that follows, and I await his coming statement, ready to defend what needs to be.
