Page 12 of Sinful Bride

"You're right—I don't understand your world. I don't know the traditions, the rules, the way things are supposed to work. But I'm willing to learn and adapt."

"Adapt." Enzo chuckles. "You think you can just... adapt to centuries of tradition?"

"I can try." I meet his gaze directly. "I'm not asking you to accept me as one of your own. The Irish and the Italians have never gotten along, and I'm not expecting us to be friends now. I'm asking you to give me a chance to prove that I can respect your traditions while still leading my organization. That I can be a partner instead of an enemy."

For a long moment, Enzo says nothing. He just studies me, his expression unreadable. The bodyguards behind him are still as statues. The restaurant around us is quiet except for the soft murmur of conversation from the main dining room.

Then, slowly, Enzo smiles. It's not a warm smile. It's the smile of a predator who's just spotted an opportunity, though I can't think of what it might be. I feel the warning prickle of danger at the back of my neck.

"You're willing to adapt," he says. "To prove you respect our traditions."

"Yes."

"To show that you're serious about being part of this world and earning your place in it."

"Yes," I repeat, though his tone makes my instincts scream a warning.

Enzo picks up his wineglass again, swirling the dark liquid. "There is a way you could prove that. A very traditional way, actually. One that would cement an alliance between our families and show everyone in this city that you're committed to our world."

I wait. My pulse is loud in my ears.

"You could marry my daughter."

For a moment, I can only stare at him as my mind tries to process what he just said.

Marry his daughter. Marry Elena.

"Your daughter," I repeat.

"Elena." Enzo's smile widens. "She's twenty years old, beautiful, educated, and raised to be the perfect mafia wife. She understands our world in a way you never will. She could teach you. Guide you. Help you navigate the complexities of our traditions."

I think of Elena at the party last night, and the way she looked at me with such disdain. The way she made it clear I didn't belong in her world.

I'm just surprised you would even be here.

"An arranged marriage," I say slowly. It's everything that I was thinking just last night that I have no desire to partake in. That I'd never want to tie myself so closely to any mafia family, bind myself to them in such a permanent way… but particularly not the Capettis.

But I also can't help but remember what else I was thinking about last night… and what marriage would mean.

"A strategic alliance," Enzo says smoothly. "It's how things are done in our world, Mr. Murphy. Marriages cement peace between families. They create bonds that can't be easily broken. If you married Elena, it would send a message to everyone that you're serious about being part of this world. That you respect our traditions. That you're willing to do what it takes to maintain peace."

My mind is racing. This is insane. Marrying a woman I barely know, a woman who despises me, just to prove a point? Just to avoid a war?

But even as I think it, I know it's not insane. It's exactly how their world works. Marriages as business transactions, daughters as bargaining chips. Alliances sealed with rings and vows instead of contracts and signatures. I saw it before in New York, in the world surrounding the Santoros, and it's no different here.

If I refuse, Enzo will see it as proof that I'm not willing to adapt. That I don't respect their traditions and I'm not serious about peace.

He'll go to war. And I'll lose. Even if I were to win, it would come at a heavy cost.

"You want me to marry your daughter," I say again, still trying to wrap my head around it.

"I'm offering you a solution," Enzo says. "A way to avoid bloodshed and prove yourself at the same time. Elena is a valuable asset, beautiful and intelligent. Any man in our world would be honored to have her as a wife."

Any man in our world.

Not me. I'm not part of their world. That's the whole point. I don't feel honored; I feel fucking trapped. Backed into a corner by a man more skilled at navigating the politics of the mafia than me.

But I could be. If I do this, if I marry Elena Capetti and bind myself to her family, I'll have the legitimacy I've been lacking—the acceptance that's been just out of reach. I could prove to Lachlan, to my men, to the entire fucking city that I'm capable of handling this, because they'd actually pay attention long enough to notice that the cut of my suit and the way I eat my dinner have nothing to do with whether or not I can get men to follow me and run a business.