Page 7 of A Bride for the Mafia King

Which is far from the truth.

Nico freezes when he sees me. His mouth drops open slightly, and for a long moment, he says nothing—just stares.

“Oh quit that,” I scold, slightly embarrassed now.

“You’re the definition of radiance, dear sister. I wish our parents were here to see this. They’d be proud of you.”

I chafe at that with a soft, bitter laugh. “Of course he would be proud. I’m the dutiful daughter, doing what I was raised to do. Play the perfect pawn in a political game of wills. Whatever is expected of her, whatever the family needs.”

Nico’s expression falls slightly. He begins to open his mouth to respond, but I cut him off.

“But Mamma? No, she would be appalled. She knew I wanted a life outside of this, and she would have done anything to help me gain that freedom which she never had. You and I both know that.”

Nico swallows hard at that. His silence answers enough.

“She wanted more for her children,” I continue quietly, “And now look at us—marrying a stranger for peace and leverage and making a move against the Don.”

He shifts uncomfortably behind me. I watch him through the mirror, feeling slightly satisfied at his discomfort.

Good. There’s still a part of the real Nico in there beneath the power-hungry viper.

Running a hand through his hair, he finally speaks, clearing his throat before saying, “Yaro just called.”

“Yaro?” I ask, turning to face him.

“Tolya’s second,” he divulges with a small nod. “He says the Pakhan has arranged a small, private ceremony at one of the estates on the outskirts of town. Immediate family only—those who must bear witness for this agreement to stand. No press. No guests.”

A flood of relief consumes my mind so heavily that it makes me dizzy. Swaying slightly from the rush, I put a steadying hand to my head. Thank the Lord for small graces.

I’ve been dreading the ceremony since I agreed to it. Haunting nightmares of standing before the whole of the Chicago Bratva. Sneering, glares, assassination attempts—they’ve all played out in my mind these last few nights. I am beyond thankful to hear this news.

“Oh thank God,” I say as I sit on the velvet bench near the window, picking up my white high heels and placing them on my feet one by one. The dainty straps circling my ankles are made of delicate lace. “I’ve been picturing a sea of strangers watching me be handed off like some old world⁠—”

“Correction. Like royalty, sister,” Nico insists, interrupting. “Not like chattel.”

I don’t respond. Taking a deep breath, I attempt to still my growing nerves. It doesn’t matter how he tries to play it off. The end result is the same.

Wed a stranger, secure my brother’s power. It doesn’t get more archaic than that in my opinion.

“How long do I have?” I finally ask.

“We need to leave in less than twenty minutes. I’ll have the car ready and waiting out front. Do you need me to take anything down for you?”

I point at the Louis Vuitton duffel bag that sits on the bed. “Just that one. The rest of my bags are already downstairs.”

With a nod, Nico moves to pick up the bag, taking it with him toward the door. He pauses before exiting, glancing back at me.

“I’ll be downstairs. Come down when you’re ready. But please, for once in your life, don’t make us late.” His eyes hold a tone of humor within them, and I playfully stick my tongue out at him.

It’s nice to have one last brother-sister moment before everything changes. The door closes firmly behind him with a click, and I stand to examine myself in the mirror one more time.

I swallow hard. I look like a bride. But I feel like a scared little girl inside.

With a deep breath, I remind myself—this may not be the wedding of my dreams. I always dreamed of marrying for love, not necessity. But it’s the only one I’m going to get. So I’d better make the best of it.

A little under an hour later, the black SUV Nico and I ride in turns onto a long, tree-lined driveway. The estate emerges from behind the trees like a phantom.

Guards are set on either side of the towering black iron gates. The smooth marble fascia of the mansion is offset by blood-red shutters, rich crimson banners, and wrought-iron balconies. It gives the feeling of elegant, ominous power. There’s no mistaking that someone of great importance resides within.