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Nicco knocked gently on my bedroom door. I knew it was him because I heard him talking to the housekeeper downstairs. She’d been with our family since I was a child and acted more like family than hired help. I wasn’t entirely surprised that she let him in without notifying me or asking permission. She likely saw him as a friend coming to extend his condolences.
Nicco was the nicer of the three brothers. The older one, Diego, was straight up crazy, and Lucas was the quiet one who moved in the shadows, who rarely spoke but saw everything. He left the lingering impression in my mind of a budding serial killer looking for his first victim. It was a tie between Diego and Lucas when it came to who was more dangerous. They were both utterly terrifying. I would know because I grew up with all three of them. Before he died, my father had even considered an arranged marriage with one of the brothers. Ultimately, he decided against it when their sister turned traitor and ran off with some biker.
Another knock drew me from my internal musings. “Come on, Aprilia. I know you’re in there. I can hear you breathing.”
The last thing in the world I wanted right now was company. I was depressed, grieving, and my eyes were swollen from crying. However, there was a tinge of determination in his voice, and I knew better than to resist. Nicco was also extremely persistent. I reluctantly sat up on my bed and called out to him. “Come on in, Nicco.”
The door creaked open, and he walked into the room, looking like God’s gift to women. His tanned skin, dark hair, and big brown eyes had made him the darling of our school growing up. Now, wearing a finely tailored suit, he was downright stunning. I’d probably think he was hot shit myself if I didn’t know him. Unfortunately, I did. Schooling my expression into something approaching polite, I said, “Welcome to my humble abode, Nicco. Long time no see.”
He dropped down into my desk chair and frowned at me. “No need to be condescending. It’s only been, what, nine weeks since your old man passed. I saw you at the funeral, and I’ve also been texting you, but you didn’t reply.”
“I’m not marrying you, Nicco. Not you or either of your creepy brothers. If that’s why you came, get the hell out.”
“Interesting that you mentioned marriage. While the three of us would be delighted to capture your attention romantically, I do not believe in my heart of hearts that’s what you want.”
I grabbed a tissue from my bedside table and blew my nose. It was embarrassing how much stuff came out. Still, the embarrassment would be worth it if I managed to gross Nicco out to the point that he actually left, I really wasn’t in the mood for visitors. “If you didn’t come to talk to me about marriage, why are you here?”
My childhood friend shifted in his seat, arranging his tie slightly. “Actually, I came to give you a heads up that Don Diavonte is planning to arrange a marriage for you.”
It was the twenty-first century, no one had arranged marriages these days—at least not in America. Well, maybe that’s what people thought but I knew better. Families like mine liked to keep their power, and that often meant aligning themselves with other similarly powerful families.
I froze in place, terrified of who he might have in mind for me to spend the rest of my life with.
Nicco quickly explained. “Now that your father has passed, Don Diavonte feels it’s his responsibility to see you settled. You know he was close with your father, and these old mobsters have an honor system when it comes to shit like this.”
I scrambled to the edge of the bed and pleaded with him. “I don’t want an arranged marriage. You’ve got to help me, Nicco. There has to be a way out without pissing Don Diavonte off?”
Nicco responded grimly, “You haven’t heard the worst part yet. Do you remember his bookkeeper?”
My eyes widened as I realized who he was talking about. “You mean Chester? That man’s got to be fifty if he’s a day.”
“He’s forty-six. And you’re twenty-seven, right?”
Nodding, I was appalled at the thought of being in the same room with Chester, much less being married to him, the man creeped me out. Though he’d stopped visiting with my father when I was around sixteen, so luckily I didn’t have much to do with him since then. “Fucking shoot me now, Nicco. I’d rather be six feet under than in that man’s bed. I’m not even joking about that.”
“Yeah, I’m hearing you loud and clear. My brothers and I thought that’s what you would say. We came up with a plan to put you beyond Don Diavonte’s reach for a few weeks. After that, it won’t matter because there’s going to be a changing of the guard. Once my family is sitting in the seat of power, you’ll be untouchable.”
My blood ran cold at hearing him talk so casually about turning our entire power structure upside down. “What are you talking about, Nicco? Is Don Diavonte terminally ill? Oh my God. He is, isn’t he?”
Nicco’s expression turned to one of disgust. “No, but he’s terminally stupid.”
I recoiled, scooting back onto my bed. “Jesus, Nicco. What are you saying?”
“Look, Aprilia, you grew up in a mob family with your eyes wide open. You’ve even taken on small jobs to help out. Don Diavonte is almost eighty. You know what happens when a don outlives his usefulness.”
I grabbed my pillow and held it in my lap like some protective shield. “I can’t believe you just said that. You’re starting to sound like that crazy brother of yours. Don’t let him whisper poison in your ear. Diego will pull you right down into the mud with him if you give him half a chance.”
His head snapped up and he stared at me long and hard. “My brother worked hard to cultivate his image because it serves him well professionally. That doesn’t mean he’s as depraved as he’d like everyone to believe. I can’t believe you of all people would buy into the bullshit, Aprilia. For God’s sake, he used to share his ice cream cones with you in kindergarten. Diego has always liked you. The second he heard what Don Diavonte had planned for you, he insisted we do something to save you. You should be ashamed of yourself for doubting him.”
Guilt swamped my very soul. “Diego always did treat me like a little sister. He beat up all my bullies growing up and even helped me learn algebra. You know, he doesn’t have to keep up the façade around me.”
“Yeah, my brother’s a bit of an ass that way. He’s never been good at determining where the game ends and his real identity starts.”
I struggled to process everything Nicco was telling me. “If Diego was so worried about me, why did he send you to talk to me instead of coming himself?”
Nicco shrugged, but it seemed anything but casual. “Maybe he knew you were scared of him.”
I didn’t even get into how messed up it was that Diego knew he was scaring me but never once stopped pretending to be a terrifying mobster. Some things that man said to me really creeped me out. “What solution did you come up with? Am I supposed to give up my identity and stay on the run until this exchange of power happens?”
