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But it’s not the thought of enmity turning into family that clenches my heart in an iron fist.
It’s Caterina—my former secret lover, whose memory still haunts my dreams, even after all these years. The thought ofmarrying her, of binding our lives together in this twisted union, sends a wave of nausea coursing through my veins.
“Are you certain?” I demand, trying to mask the tremors in my voice. They don’t know about my past with Caterina. No one knows about what transpired between her and me. When the time came for me to leave the Bratva, I had to leave her too, without explanation, because I feared my enemies might use her as leverage against me. She was weak, and I left without a word just to keep her safe.
For just under seven years, I’ve thought about her often. To now return and know I am to marry her is a reality I’m unable to grasp.
“Very certain,” Ivan confirms, his expression sympathetic. “It wasn’t an easy decision to make, but we believe it’s the best way to ensure our family’s survival. Her father proposed the union to strengthen our alliance, and given our current situation, we didn’t have much choice but to accept.”
“There must be another way.” I try to make sense of this. “Another alliance.” I refuse to believe Caterina would want to marry me. She probably hates me for how I left her with empty promises of love and a future, without even explaining why I had to leave. The last time I saw her, I told her I’d see her soon.
Ivan leans in, his voice low and serious. “Mikhail, this marriage is crucial for us. The Genovese family is one of the Bianchi’s biggest enemies, and our alliance will strengthen both families’ positions in the city. We’ve been shaken by recent events, but with Caterina at your side, we can send a message to everybody doubting or thinking of crossing us. I haven’t asked you for a single thing so far. You say you want to help our family. This is how you do it.”
His explanation does little to ease the turmoil in my chest, but I understand the importance of what he’s saying. I take a deep breath, fighting back the surge of emotion that threatens to overwhelm me. For the sake of my family, I must put aside my personal feelings and face the challenges ahead. It won’t be easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is.
And maybe Caterina is willing. Why else would this marriage be taking place?
“Alright,” I say, steeling myself for the journey that lies before me. “Let’s do what needs to be done.”
Sergei, who has been listening intently, suddenly speaks up. “You know, Caterina has a child now.” His words send a jolt through my entire body, and I struggle to keep my expression neutral. “A little girl, about six years old.”
“Six?” I repeat, my breath catching in my throat as I calculate the time that has passed since I last saw Caterina. She had a child within a year after I left. The child can’t be mine. We always used protection.
Did she move on from me so soon? The thought makes me sad, even though I know it has no right to.
“Her name is Emiliana,” Sergei continues, watching me closely as if gauging my reaction. “She’s a lively little thing, always running around the Genovese mansion.”
My chest tightens. Caterina fell in love with another? Or was it a result of a casual fling? Suddenly, the stakes of this arranged marriage feel even higher, and I find myself staring into an abyss of uncertainty.
“Do we know who her father is?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Only Caterina knows for certain,” Sergei replies with a knowing smirk. “But I think it’s safe to say that the father is not in the picture. We promised we’d care for the child like our own.”
I nod, taking in his words. “Of course we will,” I mutter. After what I did to her, breaking her heart like I did, I will do everything in my power to make her and her child feel safe. I know winning her trust will be difficult, but perhaps if I can show her that her past has no bearing on our future, by embracing the child as my own, she’ll come to understand that I have always loved her, even when it might seem like I didn’t.
Chapter 4 - Caterina
The quiet solitude of my bedroom is suddenly shattered as the heavy door swings open with a creak, and I bolt upright in bed, heart racing. My father, Don Genovese, stands in the doorway, his cold eyes staring down at me. Unease and anxiety wash over me as the room fills with his men, each carrying large open trunks filled to the brim with gold bars, jewels, and even a few Russian Fabergé eggs. They set the heavy trunks down at the foot of my bed.
“Rise and shine, Caterina,” my father says in a callous tone, uncaring that I’m still half asleep. “Your future husband’s family has offered these treasures to you for the wedding. Generous, aren’t they?”
I blink the sleep from my eyes, trying to make sense of the situation. As much as I appreciate the beauty before me, I know none of this is truly for me. At least, not while my father is around. He’d never let me have actual assets, for fear I might buy my freedom.
“Of course, we will hold on to these for safekeeping.” Father proves me right with his words, greed seeping into his voice. His hunger for wealth and power has always been insatiable, even at the cost of my freedom.
“Who is my husband-to-be?” I ask, desperation tinging my words. It seems unfair that I don’t even get to know the name of the man I’m supposed to marry, let alone have any say in the matter. “I’d like to thank him and the family,” I lie, for information.
“Enough with this already!” he snaps, silencing any further questions. “You will find out soon enough.”
“Of course, Father.” I bow my head.
“Now, since the wedding is less than a week away, the groom’s family has bestowed the wedding dress too. While I can’t say more, I can inform you that they are Russian, and that Russian traditions will prevail.”
The news of the wedding gown being provided by the groom’s side sends a wave of distress through me. My heart races, and my breath catches in my throat. I had hoped that at least this one thing, this one small piece of control over my future, would be mine to decide. But even that is denied to me.
“Father, please,” I plead, wringing my hands together as I try to hold back tears. “I want to choose my own dress.”
He glares at me, his eyes cold and unyielding. “Caterina, this is not your decision to make. For now, be grateful for the generosity of your future husband’s family.”
