The Mafia Boss And His Contract Wife

MARIELLA

Pain, guilt, regret, shock, hatred, fear and anger are emotions much stronger than love, happiness, relief, gratitude and respect-that was the only lesson I had ever learned from my papa, Danilo Romano, the Underboss of Minneapolis.

The first time I had experienced one of those overwhelming emotions was when Papa had announced the news about the Capo of Cosa Nostra Adonis Vitale having a secret wife and a daughter.

At first, it was just shock. Since the age of thirteen, I had been told that he would be my husband and that we would marry him once I turned eighteen, which I had three months ago. Second, came anger. Adonis Vitale had a wife and a daughter of eight years yet his uncle David had been giving false promises to my papa for years now, hopes that I would be the wife to keep the Capo happy and that my children would be the future of Cosa Nostra.

The Vitales tore papa's spirit and pride apart, and now even his daughter's marriage was in line. Papa had not promised me to anyone, whereas girls born in the mob world were betrothed at an early age, just at David's word and for the sake of their relationship and Papa's power.

At last, there was pain... with a hint of regret. The regrets were for my feelings for Adonis Vitale. That was the source of my pain.

Marrying a man fourteen years older than me devastated me at first. Adonis Vitale was praised for his cruelty and mercilessness. Yet, I had tried to focus on the good, like his love for art and Italian culture and also his aversion toward the old traditions. I had prepared myself to be the wife he would want, just like I had been raised to do. Above all, I loved him, even if it had been from the distance. Even though he had never noticed me.

But things did not stop there.

Adonis Vitale had chosen a match for me. As a capo, he could, but as a man who could've been my husband, he shouldn't have. He had zero regrets and no remorse for what he had done to me. Instead, he had just declared that the man would be a good fit for me and Papa, like an obedient servant of his, had agreed.

Fast forward to a few weeks later and here I was, standing in front of the mirror and trying to hold my composure. The dark green satin dress with a halter neckline and a high slit on the leg was to make me look older, and the stilettos were to make me taller because I was the hype of the evening.

It was my engagement party, yet I didn't know the man who would put the ring on my finger. Surely I knew his name and how Papa had once described him as 'a piece of incompetent shit' in front of the family. Yet, no one had been happier about my marriage to that same man than Papa.

"Are you ready?" My younger sister, Arabella, entered the room, her brown hair braided at the back and her frock clinging between her sticklike legs. Arabella and I differed by only two years, yet she and I looked nothing alike, except for our doe eyes and pouty lips. I had blonde hair, like my mama. "Mama will be up any minute with the same question."

I took a long gulp and then exhaled, my muscles too tight to move from the vanity. I looked at my sister's reflection in the round mirror. She was lucky that she would get to choose whoever she wanted to be with and not be bartered away for the benefit of the family. It was always the eldest child's burden to bear.

"Where's Papa?"

"He's downstairs tending to the guests. There are fewer people compared to our cousin's engagement party back in Florida."

"He didn't have the time to invite many people, since it all happened so fast," Mama said, walking into my room with a pair of silver earrings in her hand. "I believe these will look good."

I took the earrings from her and said, "Thank you. The stones on these match with the one on my necklace as well."

She nodded. "I know. Now, hurry. Be ready." Arabella grinned from the side and Mama quickly asked, "What's that face?"

"What?" She shrugged. "That's my everyday smile."

"No, that's your I-told-you smile. I've raised you and paid attention enough to know how you look when there's something mischievous going on in that little head of yours." Mama took a deep breath and said to her, "Listen. Try not to grab too much attention with your silly jokes or snorting laugh or else it'll be you on the marriage pedestal and not your sister. She's the quieter one."

"I'm sure you'll be delighted to get rid of me," Arabella said, rolling her eyes and standing next to me. "Now you can go downstairs before Papa starts telling people stories about how he saved his men from pirates." I laughed and put on the earrings before shifting away from my vanity table. As soon as Mama left the room, she added, "I'll be in my best behaviour."

"Will you?"

"I can't promise," she whispered. "Besides, who'll help you if you decide you can't tolerate your fiancé and want to get rid of him?"

"Getting rid of him isn't an option, Ara." I cautioned, "Papa's reputation's in line."

"It's not about reputation. You'll be married, and in two years, he'll send me away to an unknown household as well," she gritted. "He just wants to get rid of us and be free of the burdens of caring for his daughters."

"Papa is not like that, and you know it."

Our papa differed from other fathers I had heard of from my friends. He was a powerful man, and that oozed off of him, but he had never considered showing that off inside the four walls. He loved us all, even though he rarely ever said it out loud.

"Then why is he forcing you to get married?" she asked.

"He didn't force me," I admitted. "I agreed to it because I know of the consequences of not being married in time. Better to marry a stranger than be single forever, only to bring shame and rumours to the family. That is how our world is. You know how the consigliere's sister is suffering, don't you?"

"Yeah, yeah. How could I not? Papa keeps talking about Rosaline Guerra like she's the fresh meat of the day," she scoffed. "But we're talking about Papa here. He should've consoled you, told you that caring about his reputation isn't your duty. But he remained quiet and behaved like it was your decision."

"Well, it is my duty to care for him. He's my father."

"And it's his duty to care for you as well. What if this man that you're marrying doesn't treat you nicely? Or beats you up? Or abuses you against your wishes?" Her questions rendered me speechless.

I had thought about these. But how was I supposed to tell my sister that I would choose to be quiet? "We won't know until we see him, Ara," I said calmly, even though my thoughts were tumultuous.

"A man's appearance shouldn't be the judge of him," she warned.

I huffed. There was no arguing with her. "Is he here?" I asked, instead.

"Your fiancé? No. I heard David Vitale saying he'll be late," Arabella answered in a whisper.

I shook my head and groaned. "Not him. Is Adonis Vitale here?"

She straightened and frowned. "I've seen you fawn over Adonis Vitale almost all my life when he didn't even know you existed."

My face scrunched with discomfort, but the person my sister was, she didn't care. She would rub the truth on my face, even if it hurt.

"It was all you in your own head with you and Adonis and your two perfect kids. But face it! It was never meant to happen." Before I could speak, she added, "He has a perfect wife. A wife who's not an eighteen-year-old."

"Where did you hear that?"

"Word in the air. She's something around twenty-five or six and is the eldest Rossi heir."

"Rossi? You mean the Outfit?"

Arabella nodded. "She's a Mafioso princess, a capo's sister."

That explained why she had been the recent talk in the Cosa Nostra. Outfit and Cosa Nostra's alliance was a huge deal in the entirety of America, and the bond was being held by Adonis Vitale's wife.

Arabella spoke, "It's been a month since their wedding and everyone's still talking about what a good pair Adonis Vitale and his wife make."

My insides curled. I shouldn't have been sad at my engagement party, but there was no denying the pain I felt. "Are you trying to make me jealous?"

"I'm trying to make you realise that there's no chance of anything happening between you and him." She went on, "He's a married man now. Has been for the past eight years."

"Why do you think he kept her hidden?" I'd been wondering about this for weeks. At least if Papa had known about this woman, he would've told me and I wouldn't have held onto false expectations.

"I don't know and I don't care," Arabella said. "You were in love with him. He wasn't. He loves his wife and his daughter if he knows what love even is. You were never in the hundred-meter radius of his life, so it's you who needs to move on from him. And not him that needs to regret leaving you."

"You don't have to say it like that."

"But it is the truth. It's better if it hurts you now than in front of those guests down there."

I closed my eyes and licked, the taste of my strawberry lip gloss coating my tongue. I didn't want to go through.

I had once imagined how it would feel like to stand in a room filled with people and a man, specifically Adonis Vitale, claiming me as his. But the person standing on the dais with me today wouldn't be him. Adonis would be amongst the audiences, cheering, while another man bound me to him forever.

And that man would be Eros Castellanos.

***

EROS

Nothing had ever pissed me enough to make me lose my mind, except for Elias Morello and his schemes, which were a completely different chapter. What I meant was that I had never been this pissed at my brother. But today was a special occasion.

It was my engagement party, and I was running late. I was screwed . . . on the spot of my car by this hot brunette sucking on my dick at this very moment.

I looked down to meet Ira's eyes, her lips perfectly wrapped around my cock like some blowjob expert.

On usual days, I would've enjoyed every head she was willing to give me, but right now, all I did was watch her and my wristwatch every five seconds, wondering when I would finish. My orgasm was a far cry.

Pulling her lips away, licking the tip a few times, she looped her fingers around me and said, "I think the thoughts of your new child bride are messing with your head today."

"Tell me about it."

"I don't know what makes me sadder-the fact that you're getting married or that I'm not invited to it," she said grimly.

I lifted her chin up and, drawing my face close to hers, I whispered, "You know I can't invite you. My brother will kill me, and above all, it's better if you stayed away from our world. I like it better this way."

I had met Ira two years ago when she was just twenty, still thriving for a career. I had taken her as my assistant for a short while before I discovered that she herself was the daughter of an influential businessman in the south. She had left me and joined her father's company, but she and I kept seeing each other.

"I really want to see who this girl is." She pulled herself up on my lap, my hard cock rubbing the wet fabric of her panties. She ground against me, saying, "Even if it'll just be for once, I'm jealous that she'll have something that has been mine for the longest time."

I slumped back, releasing a heavy breath while she slid the crotch of her panties and settled herself on me, my erection fully inside her, her pussy warm and soaking. She rode me, clutching onto the shoulder of my tuxedo tightly.

"It's a tradition, so there's no way of going around it."

She moaned. "I know."

"You have nothing to worry about," I said, against her lips and kissed her, her tongue laving mine desperately.

She had been jealous about my marriage, but she knew it was important. When Domenico, Adonis's Consigliere, had suggested it, I remembered laughing like a moron, almost rolling off of my chair. But then he stated the facts and reasons behind that decision.

My childish choice many years ago about being a part of the mob world had cost me many things. But above all, it had cost me my sanity. Yet still, it demanded more. Other underbosses demanded that I either be a part of it according to their customs or not at all. And after coming this far with my brother, I couldn't just step off of my position as the underboss of Manhattan and lose everything I had.

These Mafia customs demanded my marriage, a tattoo on my skin-branding me as a part of the Cosa Nostra forever-and a murder, all of which I had avoided long ago, because my brother, Adonis Vitale, was the capo, the boss of all bosses.

There was no escape anymore. No avoiding my fate.

Marrying Mariella Romano was for only one reason. Power. Her father was one of the most powerful underbosses, and that would have me a solid spot and allies that would come in handy. Because there was more than one person waiting to pluck me out of here, like a weed. But I wouldn't go anywhere.

I smirked as I said, "Just a year or two, until I kill my enemies and then Mariella will be gone, and you and I would finally be together."

MARIELLA

Every step was like a pin pricking at the sole of my stilettos, my feet heavy with anxiety and a bit of anticipation. The sound from the main hall had my heart drubbing at an infuriating rate; a pace I never knew was possible.

The closest I had seen Adonis Vitale was a few months ago at a party my father had thrown for the success of one of his own. He had so polite with my nonna and to us. That was before he'd learnt of my name. After that, he'd just left as if I was a ghost haunting him. The look in his eyes that day was clear aversion. To me. To the thought of my marriage to him.

Now, I was expected to look at his face and be thankful for his generous hand in my marriage to someone else.

I hid beside the broad doorway and touched my chest over my dress. My mind calculated various possibilities of things that would happen when I walked in. They would all stare at me, which wasn't even a prediction. It was absolute.

Some would whisper behind my back and talk about how I'd been rejected by the capo. Some would talk about how lucky I was to have my hand accepted in marriage, despite being rejected by the capo. Everything would come down to Adonis Vitale and all of it would equally crush me.

Arabella looked at me from the foot of the stairs and rolled her eyes. She didn't understand what I was going through, and I didn't expect her to. All I wanted was not to be judged, which would nearly be impossible from now on.

"You know you have to go in, right?" she asked, and I gave a blunt nod. "Come on. You have me by your side. Don't worry about others."

"They'll all make fun of how things went down. The man I was supposed to marry is inside with his wife and daughter. I can't do this."

Arabella groaned. She was irritated by my nagging. "Do you know what they'll talk about if you don't show up? That you've run away, or that Papa hasn't raised us right. Or that you have a lover and whatnot. These wouldn't be true, but that wouldn't stop anyone from assuming."

I took a deep breath, and as soon as she reached the end of the stairs, I wrapped my hand around her arm. Mostly, to keep me steady. "You're right. Better let people talk about Adonis Vitale than a supposed lover who doesn't exist."

Arabella raised a brow but didn't speak. She clasped a hand over my cold ones and walked me into the room. The sudden lights blinded me and I squinted, slowly registering the view. This party room was the size of three master bedrooms combined, reserved especially for Papa's parties. French-styled windows, printed wallpapers, intrinsic carpets over the hardwood, the chandeliers-everything about the room screamed fancy.

When Arabella had said 'fewer people', I thought of a handful of twenty. But there had to be at least seventy people in the room, their eyes momentarily brushing my presence before returning to chattering.

I feared scanning the place; afraid I might catch sight of Adonis Vitale and wouldn't be able to look away. Many women, even married ones, fancied him and not without reason. He had charms and the looks to add to that, even though people received coldness from him. Being the capo had restricted him from showing any signs of affections, I believed.

Arabella dragged me to the table Mama was at and pushed me into a seat.

Mama squealed. "Be gentle with her. People are watching."

"I would be gentle with her if she wasn't so stiff," Arabella spat back. "She was too scared to even cross the threshold."

Mama held my hand over my knees and soothed, "This happens to everyone. I remember when your papa came to see me."

"Not again," Arabella grunted under her breath, which earned her a disappointing look from Mama.

But Mama went on, "He was the tallest man in the room and the one with the grumpiest look as well. Before marriage, I thought I was marrying a tool." Arabella chuckled, but my lips were too tight to force a smile. "But you know your papa. He can be funny at times."

"And absolutely adorable while arguing with you," I said, finally feeling a bit at ease in my nerves.

"That," Mama said, suppressing her laughter. "From what I hear, Eros Castellanos is a charming man."

"How old is he, exactly?" Arabella asked before I could.

"Twenty-eight. Ten years older than Mariella," Mama said as if it was any good.

"He's a man already, but look at Mariella. She doesn't even know how to kiss."

Mine and Mama's eyes widened, and we both shushed her. Mama ignored Arabella and turned to me, her eyes soft with love. She worried about me more than Papa did, but she couldn't help me. Couldn't stop this marriage even if she wanted to.

"He's very handsome and is an underboss, like your father. To add to that, he has a good relationship with the capo. He-"

"Why have I not seen him? Or heard of him that much? It's like he just came out of nowhere." Arabella said intervening, which made me curious as well.

It was true that Eros Castellanos was a new name, yet Papa had told me he had been an underboss for seven years. Everything about Eros Castellanos was a mystery. Marriage to me was for his initiation. So there was another question to ask. How had he been an underboss without an initiation? Without a wife?

Even Adonis had a wife. Everyone believed he had cheated by not marrying as a tradition before being crowned the position. But the main reason was that his crowning was sudden, and he didn't have the chance to choose a woman. Now it had come to light that he had married shortly after his crowning.

Eros, however, became the underboss of Manhattan without a proper initiation or a branding or a wife, when every born or crowned made man of higher positions had to go through these.

"He's a secretive man like the capo," Mama explained, keeping a low voice.

I gritted. "It would've been better if he had a secret wife too, like the capo."

Papa appeared beside Mama's chair and gave me a shaky smile. Leaning into Mama's ears, he whispered something and then left. I wished he would've at least asked me how I was and I would've told him the truth. I didn't want to go through with this marriage.

"You come with me," Mama said to Arabella, and I straightened. "We need to greet the guests at the door."

"Can I come too?" I panicked, but Mama shook her head.

"You need to sit here and smile. Talk to whoever comes to check on you."

"I'm sure no one would realise I'm missing from the venue."

"Don't be ridiculous," Mama chided, and I slumped in my chair. "Stay here and smile."

I watched as both my mother and sister disappeared through the door. My nerves danced like a ticking bomb while I tried to gather myself. If anyone walked up to me and asked me about my wedding, I would start screaming at the top of my lungs.

My eyes fell on Mama's glass of wine and I regarded whether to chug it down. I doubted I could meet anyone's eyes without taking some bit of alcohol.

"Here you go," a voice said and a glass of wine was held before my face.

I twisted my head to see who this voice belonged to, only to catch a pair of blue eyes staring back at me. Tension spread through my body, even though my body alerted me to stay calm. I had never seen this woman, but I had to say, she was beyond what I knew as beautiful. Sharp eyes and chiselled nose, plump lips and a perfect slender figure.

I took the glass from her and she sat down on Arabella's seat with a leg crossed over the other. "You were all alone, so I thought of giving you some company," she said, her voice filled with power.

It didn't take me much time to guess who she was, and I asked, "You're the capo's wife?"

She nodded with a humble smile. "Isobel Vitale."

"Mariella Romano."

"I know." Looking around the room, she mused, "I'm not sure if anyone here seems to like me."

"You're the capo's wife. They're all afraid of you."

"Afraid of me? Why?"

"Because you're the capo's wife," I said with a raised brow and she chuckled. No wonder Adonis Vitale-the man no one could tame-was fascinated with this woman. "They're all afraid of spewing nonsense, which is normally all they talk about."

"At this point, I'd accept nonsense. Anything's better than being ignored."

"No, it's not. Trust me. It's much better if they just forget you exist and go on with their day." She stared at me with an uncertain look in her eyes and I quickly said, "I'm not trying to be rude or anything."

"You're not happy about this marriage, are you?" she asked, but it looked from her face that she already knew the answer. She sighed. "I know the feeling of being bartered away for anything less than happiness or love. But we can't change traditions overnight."

"You found love, didn't you?"

"It takes a lot of time. I was lucky, but if circumstances were different, I would've been someone else's, and I don't know what would've happened then." She looked down at the glass in my hand and added, "But you have nothing to worry about. Eros will keep you happy. He can be an adamant moron sometimes, but he's a good man."

I snorted, "A good man?"

"Better than any man you'd find in our world," she corrected. "Good thing. He balances his life inside and outside of this circle, so technically, he's a Mafioso, but he's not."

I didn't understand a single word she said, but I refrained from questioning. What would she have thought if I told her I knew nothing about the man I'd get engaged to today? No one had bothered to tell me, and truthfully, I hadn't shown an ounce of interest in knowing either.

"There you are."

My heart almost leapt out of my chest at the sound of Adonis's voice, and I froze in my seat. Isobel's eyes drifted past me and a small, loving smile tugged at her lips. That was a sign that Adonis Vitale wasn't as cruel to his wife, or at all, as he was to others.

Adonis stood beside his wife's chair and looked down at me. I refused to meet his eyes and tried to hold my composure with confidence, but it was nearly impossible against the cold air shrouding us in his presence. Isobel seemed to be unaffected by it, though.

They truly were a match made in heaven.

"Where is he?" Isobel asked, turning her head toward her husband, who gave a brusque nod in return. "This man needs to be serious, given the circumstances of his situation. I don't know when he'll understand."

Adonis shook his head. "I would tell you his plans if he hadn't dodged my calls like the entitled prick he is."

The way they both talked about him seemed like they knew him too closely. Adonis didn't seem like a cold capo while talking about Eros, but more like an angry father, which made me question the value of Eros and Adonis's relationship. It was clear now that Adonis was the reason Eros had been free of the traditions of our mob world. But why had Adonis given him a free pass?

"Oh," Isobel's sharp cry pulled my attention, and she pointed at the door. "He's here."

Adonis's jaw twitched, and he paced toward the door, anger quite evident in his eyes. Maybe he wasn't as lenient with Eros as I had thought.

Suddenly, my breath hitched in my throat as I noticed the man Adonis had stopped before. His height was just as tall as Adonis, and his shoulders were just as broad. The stubble that covered the line of his jaw and chin didn't hide the sharpness, and the suit had just intensified his fierce handsomeness.

But the most attractive thing about him had to be his eyes. I had never seen eyes as vibrantly blue as his.

This was Eros Castellanos, my fiancé.

EROS

Adonis stalked toward me as I entered the room. I hoped he wouldn't start lecturing me in a room full of people, most of whom weren't aware of my relationship with him. The very few who'd known who Adonis was to me would always know to keep their mouths shut. For their own safety. It had always been better this way, not knowing we shared the same father.

"Where the hell have you been?" he asked in a whisper-yell and looked around the room to make sure no one was looking. But the people who had eyes would always see-that was something he too believed in.

"I was tied up in business," I answered with a straight face. If he knew what my tied up meant, he would kick me out of my own engagement party.

He raised a brow with a sceptical look. "Business on the day of your engagement? I told Malcolm to cancel your schedule for the rest of the week."

Of course he had. "I had to handle some last-minute meetings that were impossible to cancel."

He shook and tilted his head toward the table in one corner of the vast room, near the dais. My eyes fell on Bella, staring me down like a hawk. She wasn't very fond of my attitude, but she cared for me all the same. As her brother-in-law, of course. Maybe we would've had a better relationship if I hadn't flirted with her the first time we'd met.

"Where's Alessia?" I asked, pulling my brother's eyes on me. "Why didn't you bring her?"

"I didn't want to put her in the spotlight, besides she isn't ready. Bella isn't ready to bring her out," he explained. "Alessia will be at the wedding, though."

"She would've been the only one in the room who doesn't absolutely hate me. To her, I'm the cool uncle."

I adored Alessia more than I could've explained. She was so much like Adonis and me, yet so pure of heart and nothing like us in entirety. I'd been told that first nieces and nephews would have this effect on their uncles.

"You're spoiling her," Adonis chided.

I scoffed at him, my eyes rounded. "Are you fucking with me? Says the father who coddles her day and night."

"I'm trying to make up for the time I've lost on her."

There had always been times like this where I didn't know what to tell him. My brother might not show it to his own wife, but he was struggling with his own demons ever since he'd learnt he had a daughter he hadn't known about for eight fucking years. He had been struggling. Because, deep in his head, he blamed himself for the death of his daughter's mother, as he did for our sister's.

Adonis gave a terse nod and walked toward Bella's table. I followed behind him, and, meeting Bella's eyes, I shot her a grin. Her face remained neutral, but her eyes softened at my brother.

As much as I was happy for him, I hoped he hadn't pulled me into this marriage crap so soon. When I became an underboss, I dodged every tradition, but that was the extent of my brother's powers. Cosa Nostra was also ruled based on the majority of decisions. So if my marriage and initiation were all it took to shut these men off, I was willing to do it. For Adonis. For my position.

"You should try to be on time at least once," Bella said as I reached her table.

Putting on a sly smile, I responded, "Well, I was held up in a certain position."

"Gross."

"Why, lady? With work, I meant," I bit back, playfully, and she laughed. The only other person at the table was a blonde with striking features and a glum look on her face. She was a new face. Taking the seat on her other side, I commented, "There are lesser people than I imagined, which is unusual since Danilo enjoys playing host."

"Danilo didn't get the time to invite many people," Adonis said, standing beside the only empty chair at the table, but not sitting.

"Yeah, I'm sure that won't be the case at the wedding," I gritted. "Few people would want to miss the pilot episode of Eros Castellanos's demise."

"Careful what you speak of in front of your fiancée, Eros," Bella warned, tapping on the wineglass in her hand and carefully angling her forefinger at the blonde. "She may be forced to think you're a man incapable of positive thinking."

What? My eyes widened and my head snapped toward the girl. This was Mariella Romano?

I had expected her to look more childish with barely a womanly body, bangs perhaps. But the person beside me was a woman with an hourglass shape accentuated by the dress and a handful of breasts and ass. With a square face, thin pink lips, round eyes and a small pointy nose, she was the opposite of what I had imagined.

Batting her eyelashes slowly, she looked up at me, but the moment she noticed me examining her, she turned away. Shy and reserved like all the women of this fucked up world. They were forced to be quiet little toys for their husbands and adjust to the best of their abilities.

"I suppose beggars can't be choosers," I said, glaring at Adonis.

I fucking hated this. She was so fucking small compared to me. And young. No part of me was prepared to accept this woman as my fiancée, even though she was fucking beautiful and magnificently desirable.

"Look at the advantages," Adonis muttered, lowering his head to my ears.

"Advantages," I muttered to myself before rolling my eyes.

The disadvantages had rolled the advantages out of this game a long time ago. But I had different plans, ones I doubted this girl would understand. I had to do a proper character evaluation before I even proceeded with my diabolical motives.

"Sit here, Eros, and keep her company while we go back to our seats." Bella stood up and tangled her hand around my brother's arm.

"I'm pretty sure my seat is with you guys," I said, trying to win some condolence. But who was I kidding? Neither Adonis nor his wife was capable of that.

Adonis kept a firm grip on my shoulder. A warning. "Sit," was all he said before moving far away from us.

I looked back at Mariella Romano, her posture stiff with tension and eyes focused on the solid table cloth while she scratched on her transparent nail polish.

"You'll tear off your nail if you keep doing that," I said calmly. She jerked and pulled her hands over the table.

"It's just . . . I'm nervous." Her voice was low and soft. The way she looked, so tamed and in control that I doubted the vibrato of her voice could go any lower or higher or quieter than this.

"This is the first time I've made someone, anyone, nervous." She lifted her head and met my eyes and I noticed the colour of them. It was a light brown shade. "I'm the outgoing type, so everyone just assumes I would start talking shit the moment I walk into the room."

"Doesn't it make you uncomfortable?" she asked.

"Define it."

"I meant the frankness. Doesn't it feel weird?"

I shook my head. "It never really mattered because even if I were like every other man in this room, with brooding expressions, or none at all, and terse composure, they would still see me as an outsider, someone who can never fit in. So . . . why bother?"

"And how does their reaction make you feel?" I stared at her, a little shocked, but moved at the same time. No one had ever asked me this. Seeing me stunned, she said, "Forgive me. I have a tendency to ask too many questions."

Before I could speak, a voice cleared their throat behind me. I twisted my head to meet an identical pair of eyes to Mariella, the light brown shade. The girl had long dark brown waves and even her skin was olive, like Mariella's. There was no mistaking she was the sister I had heard about.

"Um, this is my seat," she said, crossing her hands over her chest and angling her head toward my chair.

"There are plenty of seats, Ara," Mariella gritted at her sister.

"Nah, I'll just shift." I shrugged.

As I was about to sit on the next chair, she voiced, "That's my papa's seat."

Her eyes sparkled with a high attitude, one I didn't particularly like. She couldn't have been more than fifteen or sixteen, but the confidence in her made her look older than her sister. All she needed was a mature body and she could easily pass for a nineteen-year-old.

I arched a brow at her and looked at the only seat left. "Let me guess, that's your mom's?"

The corner of her lips tugged upward as she nodded. Victory. That was what she revelled in. But she was trying to budge the wrong man. Because if she was a smart-ass, I was smarter.

"In that case . . ." I adjusted the chairs at the table to make space for an extra one and pulled an empty seat from the next table. Placing it beside Mariella's chair, I sat and grinned back at the sister. "Now we're good, right?"

I would've taken this as a chance to shift back to my brother's table, but oddly enough, I didn't want to. It was all because of the snobby look on the brunette's face. She wanted me to scoot away, and that was a pleasure I wouldn't give her.

Her mouth hung open and brows remained drawn as she examined my face. She blurted, "Who are you again?"

"Eros Castellanos. A pleasure to meet you. If I'm guessing right, and you're the sister," I pointed between Mariella and then her sister back and forth, "then that would make me your brother-in-law."

"Last I checked, that's how relationships work. I'm Arabella Romano." She slowly took a seat and leaned into Mariella's ears. "Do I need to do something?"

I couldn't believe that this girl was related to Mariella in any way. There was something wild about her aura and her voice was louder compared to my bride-to-be. Even though she whispered, I could clearly hear it from across the table.

And that something sounded anything but normal and more like a carefully laid out plan.

I tilted my head and waited for Mariella's response, which I sincerely doubted I could hear, unlike her sister's, but I was very well at noting people's expressions, something I'd honed while being a part of the underworld. My fiancée didn't utter a word and simply shook her head, her eyes alarmed.

"So, my future brother-in-law, where do you come from?" she asked. "What do you do? Who are your parents? What are your intentions for this marriage?"

Lifting my lips upside down, I questioned back, "Is this some sort of interview?"

She snorted. "It wouldn't have been if you'd been decent enough to pay my sister a visit before this party and gotten yourself a bit acquainted with us."

"I would have if this weren't so sudden."

She rolled her eyes as if she didn't believe me. Her audacity was surprising and good that my brother wasn't here to witness it.

"So, you're saying that you didn't have five minutes to spare her?" The scepticism in her voice made me want to scoff, but I controlled myself. She was just a kid with opinions. Nothing bad with that.

"I live in Manhattan," I clipped. "Geography isn't my best suit, but it takes about three hours to get to Minneapolis. And if you're familiar with mathematics, three hours isn't five minutes."

She snapped her mouth shut and narrowed her eyes at me. Of course, she hadn't expected me to give a reply to that. But I didn't have any guilt that I hadn't been more involved in making this marriage work. I didn't want it to work.

And I had no intention of being the picture-perfect husband Mariella was probably dreaming of.