Forbidden lessons with my mafia brother -in-law

Julianna's POV

"Rule number one." Dante's voice was a low, lethal purr that ran straight to my core.

I stared at him the way a doe stares at a wolf circling close enough to smell - defenseless, and yet not running.

He rolled his sleeves up slowly, one fold at a time, forearms corded with muscle and dark ink, looking into my eyes like a meal he was preparing to ravish. Under the dim light of his private office, he looked less like a man and more like a sin I hadn't committed yet. One I already knew I would.

"With me, there is no romance." Another step. "No kissing. No nice words." Another. "And definitely no love."

My pulse climbed with every step he took, my skin rising in goosebumps that had nothing to do with the cold weather. My body was reacting to him, anticipating his next move.

"I am going to teach you how to ruin my brother in bed, Julianna." He stopped close enough that I had to tip my chin to hold his gaze. "But don't you dare catch feelings."

I swallowed. Why was he so certain I would be the one to fall - and not him?

The thought of loving Dante again sent terror down my spine. I wasn't the girl he'd broken three years ago. Not anymore. Never again.

But some small, traitorous part of me still believed he'd never breathe a word of this to his brother. That whatever happened in this room would stay buried between us, the way everything else between us always had.

"Are you even listening to me, little virgin?"

Dante's commanding voice snapped me back to the present. He was now right in front of me, towering over me, so close, too close. The scent of cedarwood and expensive whiskey rolled off him. I swallowed again.

"I'm listening," I whispered, gathering composure as my knuckles turned white while I gripped the edges of the armchair.

"Good. Now if we are going to do this, you will have to abide by my six rules," he growled, leaning down until his lips brushed my ear, making me shiver beneath him. This closeness brought back too many memories, memories that had to remain in the past. Even though Dante's eyes made it clear that he had no intention of leaving them there. I nodded obediently.

"Rule One, no love. Your heart stays outside that door. Rule two, absolute secrecy. If Alistair ever finds out I touched you, I will personally ruin you and you know he will too." I shuddered. At this point, Alistair was the least of my concern.

Dante would ruin me.

Fear coursed through me.

"Rule three, complete obedience. You will submit to me completely and totally Julianna, within and outside these walls as long as this deal is on.

Rule four, no modesty. I don't train prudes, you're a slut for me. Rule five, you're available whenever I want you to. Whenever Julianna. And rule number six, I can add more rules."

I gasped, my eyes widening. "What? That wasn't..."

Before I could finish the protest, Dante's hand wrapped firmly around the back of my neck, his thumb forcing my chin up. This was intense, the heat and the closeness. He didn't kiss me.

Even though his closeness made that tempting. Instead, he slipped his other hand beneath my skirt, his fingers sliding up the bare skin of my thigh with a burning heat.

I gasped.

Why did it feel so good?

Air left my lungs as his gaze held mine, pinning me with a look that hid too many thoughts. My breathing hitched and my mind screamed for comfort but I remained at his mercy.

"Dante...please..." My breathing was so unsteady as I begged Dante with my eyes and my mouth.

"Please? Oh Julianna, if you're begging over nothing, what's going to happen when we go deep?"

Over nothing? This was nothing?

A chill coursed through me and I felt my stomach knot painfully.

"This is going to be a lot of fun."

A knowing smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. I felt my throat dry. With one lasting glance, he stepped back.breaking the tension. The sudden distance made me feel like an addict rid of her favorite drug but at the same time it felt like good relief. He turned away with an indifference that made me look like a fool, like I hadn't just witnessed him do forbidden things to me.

Adjusting his shirt, he moved toward the door, every step of his firm and swift. I remained in the seat, shaken and catching my breath.

"We begin tomorrow at midnight, Onyx lounge." he said, not looking back. "Don't be late."

The door clicked shut at once.

I placed my hand on my chest and shut my eyes as I steadied my breathing and held back tears.

If only I didn't have to be here.

My mind spiralled back to the reason I was sitting in my future brother -in-law's private office as I listened to him lay down the rules for our six-month arrangement.

I sat in Alistair's office on invitation about three weeks ago. Dressed in a high-neck, fitted, silk dress with an open back that Alistair obviously didn't care about when he gave me the biggest shock of my life.

He didn't look up from the financial ledgers on his desk when he poured two glasses of scotch and slid one across his desk towards me.

Did he expect me to drink?

But that was what this engagement had reduced my life to. Expectations.

"Six months," Alistair said, his voice flat. "The date is set. In half a year, you will become my wife, Julianna."

I took a small sip of the amber liquid. Just that reminder was enough reason to drink. I had known it for a year now but hearing him say it like that, God I felt doomed.

"Six months is a long time to wait for a wedding night, Alistair."

He finally raised his eyes and that smirk I hated appeared. "I like anticipation. But most importantly, six months gives you plenty of time to prepare yourself for what I expect of you."

He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers.

What is expected of me? What could be expected of me other than saying 'I do' to New York's future capo?

"I am a man with very specific tastes. I have neither the time, nor the patience, to teach a girl how to breathe in my bed when the time comes. Sex for me is an aggressive release. That's why you're perfect for this alliance. I believe you didn't go to school all the way in Las Vegas only to remain a useless virgin," he straightened on his seat, eyes narrowing, "You are experienced, right?"

It took every ounce of courage not to shudder, not to let my facial expression reveal my fear. For a sheltered girl like me, the mere thought of the marital act still made me blush, still made me fidget. But Alistair couldn't know that, he wouldn't.

I raised my chin, forcing a seductive confidence into my voice.

"You don't need to worry," I began my lie smoothly, setting my glass down with a steady hand. "Las Vegas taught me more than you think."

But all Las Vegas taught me was how to perfect my pretense and lying skills when my parents called, nothing more.

Alistair's eyes were dark and satisfied. "Perfect. Then we wait the full six months as expected. Don't disappoint me, Julianna. If I find out you lied to me, the consequences will be severe."

Colour drained from my face even as I laughed that evening. I was stiff with panic and my heart slammed against my chest but he didn't notice. He never did.

I was twenty-four, sheltered, and a complete virgin.

All my life, I had preserved my virginity like an important, delicate vessel that couldn't be broken no matter the cost, hoping I would find the perfect man who'd cherish me. But there I sat, staring at my future husband who thought it was pathetic. I was mortified.

The grand wedding was in exactly six months. Six months before our wedding night, when my total lack of experience would expose me as a dirty liar and destroy everything. And if I told him now, he would cancel the wedding and my family would still be at the receiving end.

I was in a dilemma and desperation had led me to the black sheep of the family. Dante.

Alistair's brilliant, dangerous elder brother, who owned the city's most exclusive, underground pleasure clubs and was condemned as a traitor by his own father. This had to be the craziest thing I had ever done.

Six months. Six months of sin.

Julianna's POV

It all began the way most disasters do - over dinner, with everyone smiling and conversing.

There's no such thing as a clean break. The past doesn't fade - it clots. And just when you think you've healed, it bleeds all over again, ruining everything you fought so hard to build.

I'd refused to believe that, for years, because of him. Until a week ago.

The long dining table at the Marchetti mansion had been set for a flawless dinner. I sat to Alistair's right, tense in my silk blouse, smiling until my cheeks ached while his parents discussed wedding venues, guest lists, and the merger of our families' fortunes. smiling until my cheeks ached while his parents discussed wedding venues, guest lists, and the merger of our families' assets.

Across from me sat my parents. My mother shot me the occasional warning glare - a signal to keep my shoulders back, my composure perfect. In our world, a daughter's only value was the alliance she could secure, and my mother was determined not to let anything jeopardize this one. My father simply nodded along to everything Don Marchetti said, content to trade his eldest daughter for a permanent seat at the Famiglia's table.

Parents, indeed.

Alistair barely looked at me, resting a cold, possessive hand on my knee whenever he thought he needed o remind the room - and me, exactly who I belonged to.

To everyone else, I was the blushing bride-to-be. No one could see the countdown ticking in my head. Nobody cared. Six months and three weeks was all that was left of my life as it was.

"The guest list for the gala is finalized," Don Marchetti announced. "Strictly our inner circle. No liabilities."

"Perfect," Alistair said, his voice smooth and empty of warmth. "We don't need distractions."

"Distractions?" Gaia Marchetti laughed. "Son, the only thing people will be looking at is Julianna's ring. Though, dear, we must finalize your dress designer by tomorrow. A Marchetti bride must look untouchable."

My mother leaned in, sweet and submissive. "Oh, absolutely, Gaia. I've made sure she understands the modesty expected of a traditional bride."

A traditional bride who didn't need to be a virgin. My stomach tightened.

You didn't go to school all the way in Las Vegas only to remain a useless virgin.

And here I was here, still a virgin, still useless by his measure.

Under the table, Alistair's hand tightened - a pressure that promised bruises by morning.

"Julianna knows how to present herself, Mother. White, to signify the innocence our family expects."

As if there was anything innocent about the name 'Marchetti'.

"Good," Don Marchetti murmured, cutting into his steak. "Because once the vows are exchanged, the press will be the least of your concerns. I won't have any weak links, Alistair."

"There won't be any, father." Alistair turned his eyes, devoid of any emotions to me. "Isn't that right, Julianna? My future wife knows exactly what happens to people who disappoint me."

"Completely," I said, steady even as my chest tightened.

My father, Giovanni, sat further down the table, deep in conversation with Don Marchetti about shipping routes. He laughed too loudly at jokes that weren't funny, the same way he always did around men with more power than him. I used to think it was charm. Now I knew it was hunger - the same hunger that had decided, three years ago, that his eldest daughter was worth more as an object to be traded than as a person.

My sister, Liliana, caught my eye from beside our mother and gave me a small, encouraging smile, the kind she'd been giving me all year, as if smiling hard enough could make this less unbearable. She was the only person at that table who looked at me like I was still a person and not a line item in a merger.

"You're quiet tonight, Julianna," my mother murmured, leaning close enough that only I could hear her over the clatter of the room. Amelia Russo, my mother, had perfected the art of saying everything and nothing at once. "Smile more. A nervous bride will make the Marchettis curious, and curious people start asking questions."

"I'm fine, Mama."

"You will be," she said, patting my hand once, briskly. "I told you when you were sixteen - love is for girls who can afford it. We never could. Just focus on now, on Alistair."

She'd said some version of that sentence to me a dozen times over the years, always in that same brisk, loving-cruel tone, as if repetition could make it stop hurting to hear.

It never did.

She had known my heart was somewhere else since I returned from Vegas, years ago and never stopped reminding me of my duties.

And then, just when I needed a distraction most, the double doors swung open and the clinking of silverware and conversations died instantly.

That's when he stepped into the room.

My fork slipped from my fingers. No one seemed to hear it. Every eye had already found him.

Dante Marchetti.

Three years since Las Vegas. Since he'd vanished without a word. And now, here he was here, tall in his dark coat, hair in that careless tousle, eyes that same cold gray. Nothing about him had changed.

I stared at him with my lips parted in shock. What in the world was my ex doing here?

"Am I late?"

"You weren't invited, Dante." Alistair's posture went rigid beside me.

"An oversight, I'm sure." Dante walked forward, slow and deliberate. "Did Father not tell you? I'm back."

What did he mean father? Back to what?

So many questions were racing in my head while I still stared at the man who regarded me like I was a stranger. As if Nevada had never happened. As if the tattoo on his hand, the one he'd inked for me, meant nothing now.

"Besides - how could I miss a dinner celebrating my little brother's beautiful fiancée?"

"You weren't fucking invited."

"I'm here now." Dante took the empty chair across from me, sinking into it with casual, dominant ease. "Deal with it."

That was when it landed fully - Dante Marchetti, the exiled son, my ex was sitting across from me.

Dante was my future brother -in-law. And he knew more than enough to ruin me.

Julianna's POV*

It took every ounce of self-control, and one warning glare from my mother, to keep my composure. This wasn't the boring night of wedding talk I'd braced myself for.

"Dante." Don Marchetti's voice came sharp, though I caught the hesitation underneath it. He set down his steak knife. "You talk to your brother with respect under my roof. This isn't one of your whorehouses. A seat at this table doesn't erase everything."

So Dante was the feared Marchetti son who owned pleasure clubs?

"I don't give two fucks about being back in, Father. I care about numbers." Dante didn't even look at him. His gray eyes were pinned on me, heavy and suffocating, emotionless and indifferent. "The docks in Chicago - the ones Alistair just tanked? The local crews wouldn't sign. I went down there myself this morning. The paperwork's on your desk. The Outfit's locked down for five years."

Alistair's jaw tightened. Dante was a threat he couldn't compete with, and everyone at the table knew it. And he was also a threat to me.

"That's enough," Gaia cut in, her voice sharp with the practiced sweetness mothers use to paper over family disasters. She offered my mother a tight smile. "It's a family dinner. We're celebrating a wedding. Dante, if you're staying, sit down. Alistair - stop."

Don Marchetti's eyes flicked to his wife, sending a harsh message to her with his eyes. Twenty-six years of marriage had taught Gaia exactly when to step in and exactly how much she was allowed to say before he'd shut her down with a single look. He gave her that look now. She held it a beat longer than she needed to, then returned to her wine, her jaw tight. It was the only rebellion I'd ever seen her permit herself, and it told me more about their marriage than any conversation could have. Gaia Marchetti hadn't married for love. She'd married for survival, the same as the rest of us, and twenty-six years in, she still hadn't decided if she'd won or lost. Just like my mother and every other woman in the mafia. And I would be following their footsteps in a matter of months.

"He shouldn't even be in this city, let alone this house." Alistair didn't look at his brother. Under the table, his fingers dug into my thigh hard enough that I bit my lip to keep from gasping. He stared at his plate like a kid who'd just learned he wasn't the favorite anymore.

"I go where I'm needed, little brother." Dante leaned forward, steepling his fingers on the white cloth, his gaze sliding back to me - down the collar of my blouse, then lingering on my hands, which I hadn't realized were shaking until he noticed. Of course he noticed. He always did.

I forced my eyes away and reached for my wine. I needed courage tonight and a dose of goodluck.

"I heard you talking about the traditional bride on my way in." His mouth curved. "Funny - I always thought the best things in Vegas were the ones that were already ruined."

My heart pounded loud enough I was certain the whole table could hear it. My mother missed the hit entirely. Alistair's head snapped up.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Just talking about taste." Dante lifted his water glass, unhurried. "But I don't owe you an explanation."

I was literally begging him with my eyes but he was obviously enjoying my suffering.

The room felt suffocating, like he was playing with my life in front people who wouldn't hesitate to end it. I needed to leave before I lost it.

"Excuse me." I forced a sweet smile and stood, smoothing my skirt with hands I prayed weren't visibly trembling. "The wine's made the room a little warm. I'll get some air before dessert."

My mother nodded, pleased with my manners. Gaia smiled. Alistair waved a dismissive hand without looking up. "Don't be long. We still need to settle the gala seating."

"I won't be."

I kept my back straight until the door shut behind me. The moment the cool air hit my skin, my shoulders sagged. I stumbled to the glass doors leading to the courtyard and pushed them open, letting the freezing New York night bite into me. The cold was better than the heat of Dante's stare. The accusation I'm his eyes I couldn't understand.

I gripped the stone railing, chest heaving as I looked out over the frozen gardens.

He's back. He's here. He's going to tell them. Could the night get any worse? In the following months his face had haunted me less. I had been able to sleep without crying his name, mostly because I now busied myself with the impending misery.i would deal with in my forthcoming marriage. Tonight had undone all of that in under an hour. Why hadn't he just stayed in Vegas, in my past, where he belonged? Of course he'd find the cruelest possible way to return - as my future brother-in-law.

Perfect.

I was so deep in my thoughts that a firm hand closed around my arm before I could react, pulling me back against a hard chest. The scent of expensive whiskey filled my lungs.

Dante.

His palm settled flat against the small of my back, and for one disorienting second he felt exactly like he had three years ago - strong, safe, mine. He couldn't be the last one anymore.

"Let go of me." I shoved against his chest. "What are you doing? This is my fiancé's house."

"Fiancé." He said the word like it tasted wrong. "Your body doesn't seem to agree. He had his hands on you all night and you trembled. Now your pulse is racing." A dark smile appeared on his face as he waited for my reaction.

He wasn't wrong. My heart was hammering, and not only from the fear of being caught.

"Dante, please." I tried to pull back, but his grip only tightened. "If Alistair finds us out here, he'll kill us both."

"Alistair couldn't kill me if I handed him the gun." His eyes flashed in the moonlight. "But he'd break you without blinking. Is that what you want? To let my pathetic brother ruin you?"

"You ruined me, Dante Marchetti."

I pulled back like I'd been burned. Something dark flickered across Dante's face.

"I don't have a choice." Panic finally cracked through, and the tears I'd been holding all evening ran down. "He thinks I'm an experienced woman. He expects things from me on our wedding night that I don't - that I can't - and if he finds out I lied, he'll destroy my family. He'll destroy me."

Dante went still. He didn't bring up Vegas. He didn't bring up three years of silence. He just watched me fall apart in front of him.

"Help me, Dante. You run half the city's pleasure clubs - you know exactly what a man like Alistair expects."

The words humiliated me even as I said them, but pride had stopped mattering the moment Alistair called me useless.

"Do you understand what you're asking, Julianna?"

"Please."

His gray eyes searched mine, his face cold and unreadable - until, for one heartbeat, the stranger's mask slipped and I saw the man from Nevada looking back at me.

"This is reckless. If anyone finds out-"

"No one will." I said it with more certainty than I felt.

"This is the mafia, Julianna. Walls have ears."

The sharp click of shoes on marble cut through the courtyard before I could answer. The doorknob rattled.

Alistair.

"Dante-"

"My office. Manhattan. Tomorrow." He was already stepping back into the shadows, gone before I'd fully caught my breath.

"Julianna."

I turned, hands clasped behind my back so he wouldn't see them shake, and arranged my face into the picture of a perfect Marchetti bride.

"Alistair. I was just heading back in."

He took my hand and pulled me toward the house.

"My father wants to toast our future," he said.

Our future.

I swallowed, and let him lead me back inside.