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"Married?"
"Yes." My grandfather took a deep puff off of his cigar. "An old friend of mine called the other day and reminded me of a promise we made to each other during the war, a promise I cannot break."
I wasn't sure what that had to do with me.
"We promised if we made it through the war alive, we would marry off our children together. Since your father is already married, that falls on you."
"What about Dante?"
I knew I had made a mistake mentioning my half-brother when my grandfather's eyes narrowed. Dante was the legitimate heir. He was the golden boy, the apple of my grandfather's hate filled eyes. He could do no wrong even if the guy was a pig.
"Dante isn't an abomination like you."
Still didn't understand what this all had to do with me.
"This is your lucky day, Alejandro. You will be marrying Delancy's grandson, who is also as perverted as you are."
And now it made sense.
He held up his hand. A file was placed in it by the guard from before. He held it out to me. "You will need this."
As much as I didn't want to take the file, I knew I had no choice. I flipped it open as soon as I had it in my hands and started reading over the papers inside.
I had to read over the first few paragraphs three times before the words truly made sense. Stunned, I glanced at my grandfather. "You are putting me in charge of Brooklyn?"
My grandfather sighed. "Brooklyn hasn't been producing like it should be over the last few years. Juan Martinez wishes to retire. If you marry Delancy Matisse, you can have Brooklyn."
There had to be a catch.
"As long as you stay married to Delancy and send in your quarterly donations, you will stay in charge of Brooklyn. Fail to marry Delancy or get a divorce, or fail to send your donations in full, and you will be called back to face the consequences."
In other words, my death.
And why were we calling it a "donation"? We both knew what it was. Every quarter I would be required to send a set amount of money back to Colombia. Hiding it as a donation to a charitable foundation set up by the family was just their way of laundering the money so the authorities didn't learn of it.
"I want complete autonomy." I couldn't believe I was saying that, but if my grandfather wanted me to agree to this shit show, he would give it to me. I refused to have him breathing down my neck when it came to every decision I made.
Surprisingly, my grandfather replied, "Done, but you leave in an hour. Your bags are already packed, and the jet is waiting for you on the tarmac. The wedding is set for two weeks from now."
"I'm leaving now?"
"You have a meeting with our lawyer in New York City tomorrow morning to sign a prenup, get a report on your fiancé, and get the details on the wedding ceremony. If you don't leave in an hour, you won't make it."
"Does Martinez know I'm coming?"
"He knows."
Was he going to try and kill me when I arrived?
That seemed like the important question, but not one I was going to ask. My grandfather would probably kill me where I sat if I did.
"Martinez will pick you up at the airport and take you to your meeting. After that, he will show you the ropes before he comes home. He will only be staying until the day after your wedding, so you had better learn all you can from him while you can."
"When will I meet my fiancé?" It would be nice to know the man I was going to marry.
"When you marry him."
Only by grinding my teeth together did I keep my jaw from dropping. "I don't get to meet my fiancé until I marry him?"
