Touch me please: A Dark Mafia Romance

Enzo's Pov

I arrive at my brother's house and the gates open to welcome me. Antonio told me he had something urgent to discuss with me, and although I knew it had to do with the organization, there was something in his tone of voice that told me that he wanted to talk about a very sensitive and personal matter.

I get out of my car, and the housekeeper opens the door for me, bowing in greeting.

As I enter the first thing I hear are my nephew's screams playing in the yard, and a hint of a smile automatically spreads across my face. Since Stella's death, those children are the only thing that manages to brighten my days a little.

The housekeeper wants to accompany me but I ask her to leave me alone. I don't need company and she knows it; I know the place very well and I always prefer silence and solitude.

I head out to the garden, and as expected, the first thing I see is Luca running around. His mother is sitting under a tree, cradling Sofia, our little princess and the newest addition to the family. I look around for Antonio and find him sitting on the terrace, a whiskey in his hand.

I raise my hand in greeting, approach his location, and sit on the chair next to him.

"Okay, here I am," I say, patting his shoulder. "What was so urgent that you needed to talk to me about?"

I see him take a breath and ramble, which confirms my suspicions: what he has to tell me is no small thing.

"First of all, I want you to know that what I'm going to ask you is not an order. You know that I love you like a brother and I would never ask you to do anything that would make you unhappy."

"Come on Antonio, say it already, you're making me nervous," I reply.

"You know well that things haven't been easy this year. The Russians and the Irish are upon us. They've taken advantage of the rift within the organization to gain strength, and that's something we can't allow. Therefore, we must help the organization consolidate its position, but Boston is causing problems."

"I'm aware of that, it's nothing new to me, I understand that. What I don't understand is what you're getting at," I say, a touch of impatience in my voice.

"Edoardo always wanted me to marry his daughter and he's been upset since my marriage to Ilaria."

"The girl is almost a child!" I snap with annoyance.

This is one of those absurd traditions that I don't endorse. Every woman should be free to decide who she wants to marry, when she's mature enough to do so.

"Not anymore, the girl is now legal," my friend informs me.

I haven't seen her for a couple of years and I've never paid special attention to her, but I remember her from a very young age.

"He's still very young," I counter. "Besides, you're already married, I don't understand."

I stop my babble when I begin to understand where this conversation is going.

"He wants to strengthen ties with my family at all costs, and if I'm no longer available, he wants my sotto capo. My Right Hand. You." he says.

"And there it is, just what I feared."

I feel the blood drain from my body at the mere thought of getting married. I lean back in my seat and take a deep breath, trying to process it.

"Do you want me to marry her?" I ask, even though I'm already clear about everything.

"I repeat, it's not an order, it's your decision. If you don't want it, we'll find another way."

I snort in disgust at the situation, lean my head back on the backrest, and close my eyes, thinking about the possibilities.

I don't want to get married. The only woman I wanted to share my life with was taken from me. I'm fine with the way things are now. I like my solitude, being able to dedicate myself 100 percent to the organization, and coming home just to sleep for a few hours, basking in her memory.

On the other hand, if I don't do it, the friction with Boston will continue and will now be worse, and right now we can't afford that luxury; that would give the Bratva and the Irish an advantage.

We've fought too hard to regain power. The last two years have been a mess, and I'm not willing to go back there, much less have Antonio do it. He and Ilaria have suffered enough; they deserve a little peace, as much as our world can allow. And now there are the children too. They deserve a peaceful childhood, even though I know their fates are marked like ours.

Then there's the girl. That poor innocent girl must be terrified that she's going to be married off to a complete stranger, and if I don't do it, Edoardo's going to offer her up to the highest bidder, some dirty old man who's going to take advantage of her innocence, who's going to use her without her consent until he's sick of her and turns her into a human monstrosity, a breeding ground for the Mafia.

Serena always hated this side of our world; nothing we do is honorable, but abusing women is absolutely deplorable, and she wouldn't forgive me if she knew I had the chance to save one and didn't.

I rub my chin, considering my options, and despite everything, I make my decision.

"Family Comes First, Always" I say our motto.

I won't let everything we've worked for go to waste.

"I will, Antonio, I will marry the girl."

----

The day is cloudy; it looks like a storm will break at any moment, a perfect analogy for what is coming in my life. My leather shoes sink into the grass, and I feel the full weight on my shoulders when I arrive at the place.

"Hello, beautiful," I whisper softly as I kneel to clear the dry leaves from the gravestone. "I know it's been a long time since I visited, but I've been really busy, you know, saving that idiot Antonio's *ss." I force a laugh, but the truth is I'm just holding back the urge to cry.

"I know you never liked these sappy things," I say, arranging the bouquet of flowers I brought her, "but today it felt appropriate. Maybe this way you'll forgive me for what I'm about to do. I'm getting married, Stella. I'm getting married, and I feel like I'm betraying you." I sob, brusquely wiping away the tear that escapes. "Life's been sh*t since you left, my love, but I have to do this for them. If you could see how beautiful Antonio's children are, I'm sure you'd love them as much as I do."

"We need to secure power so they can be safe, so they can grow up secure. You know very well the horrible things that would be done to them if we were to fall, and I won't allow it. I know you understand me. Besides, I'm doing that girl a favor. You know how disgusting her father is; he'd sell her to anyone. With me, she'll be safe. I won't hurt her; I don't plan on touching her."

"Forgive me for having to bring her home. I don't want to see any other woman but you there; I don't want anyone to tarnish your memory, but I have no other choice. I promise you everything will remain intact, exactly as it is, exactly as you left it. She will just be a guest; you will always be the sole owner of my house, my life, and my heart."

Enzo's Pov

The Chicago cold chills me to the bone, and I pull my coat tighter as I step out of the SUV and enter Edoardo's house. The old man is waiting for us at the entrance with a satisfied smile. He is accompanied by his second-in-command, Roco, a guy a little younger than him but just as repulsive.

"Don, welcome to my home," he greets with a bow, which Antonio acknowledges with a slight nod.

"My future son-in-law," he says, turning to me with an outstretched hand.

I shake his hand to avoid a problem right as we arrive, but what I really want to do is shoot him in the forehead for forcing us into this situation. His second-in-command also greets us.

"Come in," he directs, leading us to the main living room of the house. "My wife is already bringing the bride down," he informs us as we take our seats.

"First, we wanted to clarify a few things," Antonio interjects. "We want this to be quick and simple, no extravagant parties.

Edoardo laughs with sarcasm.

"Come on, Don! It's my eldest daughter who's getting married! She's not just some sl*t; my family wants to celebrate this."

I can't contain the snort that escapes me.

"This is a business transaction, Edoardo, you're selling her," I snap, annoyed. "It's not a celebration of love."

Antonio clears his throat and gives me a warning look. I take a breath to control myself.

"You're right, Butcher," Edoardo replies, leaning forward in his seat toward me, his gaze sharp, without losing his stupid smile, and using a cutting tone when using the nickname I'm known by in the darkest corners of our world. "This is a business, and I assure you, you're getting prime merchandise."

I feel nauseous hearing him speak about his own daughter like that. No one in this room has scruples, but at least on our side, there are limits. I can't imagine Antonio speaking that way about our principessa.

"The ragazza is the best Chicago has to offer," his second-in-command intervenes. "Many here wanted to close a deal for her."

"Including you, from what I understand," I reply with arrogance, making it clear to them that nothing gets past us

The man laughs ironically.

"You can't blame me, Romano. I'm not lying when I tell you she's the best piece we have; she's the jewel in our crown. Besides, she's past the optimal age for marriage; we had to act."

"What the hell are you talking about? She's a bambina; she's not even twenty."

"Too old in our world, and you know it. The years for a woman to have good offspring are numbered; we have to take advantage. Besides, tender meat is always sweeter.

The girl is brought into the room and the b*st*rd was right she was truly beautiful

"She offers me her hand, and I take it, placing a kiss on the back of it like the gentleman I'm not

"Soon to be Arianna Romano," her father cuts in

The girl lowers her gaze again, trying to hide her blush.

"Well, now that we're all here, let's finalize the details," the old man states, and we return to our seats.

The girl sits next to me, at her mother's instruction, and I start to get desperate because she won't stop wringing her hands.

"As we said, we want something small and quick," Antonio repeats.

I feel like a teenager when he's the one doing the talking for me.

"It will be quick," Edoardo agrees, "but not small. I want my daughter's wedding to resonate everywhere."

'Idiot.'

"Agreed," Antonio concedes, and I give him a dirty look, but he raises an eyebrow at me.

When I leave here, I'm going to need to lock myself in a cage to fight so I can drain all the rage I'm holding in.

"One week," I propose. I want to be done with this quickly.

His wife gasps when she hears me.

"Excuse me, sir," she interjects, "but a wedding cannot be organized in a week.

"Well, you'll have to manage"

Her husband glares at her, shooting daggers with his eyes, I suppose for having the audacity to speak to me without permission.

"One month," he proposes.

"Two weeks, and that's my final offer."

The old man huffs in displeasure. He looks at Antonio, but I'm sure he won't overrule me, even if he complains about it later.

"Agreed," Edoardo accepts, "but the ceremony will be done our way, following our traditions." I look at him with narrowed eyes; I know he's about to say something stupid. "They will spend their wedding night here. I want our guests to verify that my daughter is pure."

The girl shifts uncomfortably next to me.

"I am not going to display stained sheets as if this were a slaughterhouse. That's absurd.

"It's our proof that she saved herself for you."

"You already gave me the d*mn report that proves it! That's not necessary."

"It is. You could claim we tricked you, that we falsified it, or that the bambina ran off with someone else before the wedding."

"That is not going to happen. I am not interested in your sadistic guests seeing her blood. They don't need to verify anything. It's more than enough if I verify it."

The girl next to me looks like an ostrich; she must be dying of shame. We're discussing her intimacy, her body, as if it were an object. Her father tries to say something more, but Antonio intervenes:

"We will not be doing that, Edoardo. Don't insist."

"Of course, you people are always stepping on our traditions. What could one expect when the organization's Queen isn't even Italian?"

"Don't you dare speak about my wife, or I swear to God I will walk out," Antonio warns in that tone that allows no argument.

"Our Queen has more balls than you, Edoardo," I scoff. "Dare to say anything against her, and you'll find out why they call me the Butcher."

The old man swallows hard; he knows neither of us is joking.

"I apologize, gentlemen, I didn't mean to offend you." He has the decency to apologize.

"Good. Then there's nothing left to discuss." Antonio gives me a sign, and I understand what I have to do.

I sigh to brace myself and reach into my pocket to take out the small black box. The girl's breathing next to me becomes erratic, and I have to look away so as not to be distracted by the rise and fall of her breasts.

I take out the diamond ring, take her trembling, sweaty hand, and place it on her finger. Edoardo slams the coffee table in celebration.

"You are getting an excellent wife, Romano," he says with pride. "A woman who is docile, obedient, trained to please her husband, and ready to give you children."

Children?

The mere mention of the word gives me goosebumps. This is not a real marriage and never will be. This is just a pact, a facade. I will never touch this girl, she will never be my wife, and she will certainly never give me children. Never!

Arianna pov

"Sit still, tesoro. You keep wrinkling the dress."

I tried, really. But the satin stuck to my thighs, and my nerves made it impossible to stay still. I shifted again on the stool as my mother, Lucia, fussed with the bodice, muttering about my posture and how expensive the gown was.

My sister, Bianca, lounged on the couch nearby, already sipping something fizzy out of a crystal flute. Her hair was pinned perfectly, her lips a deep red. Married at eighteen, bitter at twenty-one, and already looking like she couldn't take one moment of it anymore.

"You'd think you were being crowned Queen of Italy, not just married off," Bianca said dryly, crossing one leg over the other.

I rolled my eyes, but Lucia glared sharply. "Don't ruin this for her."

Bianca lifted her hands. "Fine. I'm silent. Just here for moral support."

I smoothed the front of my dress. It was beautiful-off-white with a subtle shimmer, the kind of thing I'd dreamed of once, when I was young enough to believe in fairytales. It hugged my waist, dipped just enough at the neckline to feel daring. They'd done my makeup soft, romantic. My hair was pinned up, a few strands left loose around my face.

I looked... older.

Not like myself. But maybe that was the point.

"Just remember," my mother said, securing the final clasp at the back, "you belong to him now. From tonight on, your life is with him."

I didn't answer. My eyes drifted to the mirror. He'd see me in this dress.

Enzo.

I tried not to smile, but my lips betrayed me. Everyone assumed I was some sheltered girl being tossed into the lion's den, but they didn't know the half of it.

I'd seen Enzo Romano. Not just glimpsed him at formal events or family meetings, but watched him, listened to the way people spoke his name. The Butcher. Antonio's right hand. Deadly, respected, feared. And devastatingly handsome.

That part no one ever said aloud, but I'd noticed.

The broad shoulders. The sharp jaw. That calm, quiet way he carried himself, like he didn't need to raise his voice to dominate a room. He was the kind of man women whispered about behind closed doors and never dared approach.

And now he was going to be my husband.

Would he like me? That was the question that kept echoing in my head. Would he even look at me, really look at me, or would I just be a transaction?

Lucia pulled my face back into focus with two fingers, pressing powder under my eyes.

"You must please him, Arianna. That's your only job now. Make him happy and give him sons."

Bianca groaned. "Don't start with the sons already."

Lucia ignored her. "A man like Enzo doesn't want drama. You must be soft. Obedient. Presentable in public, generous in private. You understand?"

I nodded, but my thoughts were already wandering.

Obedient.

Sure.

I wasn't naive. I might have played the part for years-quiet, delicate, the good daughter-but my mind had wandered places my mother would probably faint over. And when it came to Enzo... I'd imagined more than once what it would be like to kneel for him. Not in shame. Not in submission. But out of want.

I'd never even kissed a man. But that didn't mean I hadn't thought about it. Fantasized, late at night when everyone else was asleep. Not about candlelit romance and roses, but about strong masculine hands.

"Your wedding night might hurt," Lucia added carefully, brushing a curl from my face. "It's normal. But you'll endure it. It's your duty."

Bianca scoffed. "Duty," she repeated bitterly. "Mine lasted two minutes and smelled like whiskey and cigars."

Lucia shot her a look. "You're not helping."

"I am helping," Bianca said. "I'm telling her the truth."

I looked between them, my heart thudding too loud in my chest. "You're all terrible at pep talks."

Bianca smirked. "You want a pep talk? Fine. Here it is: even if he doesn't love you-which, let's be honest, he probably won't-you can still enjoy the s*x."

"Bianca!" my mother snapped.

"I'm just saying," she said, raising her glass. "Butcher or not, he's hot. There are worse ways to lose your virginity."

I blushed, but only slightly. Deep down, I knew Bianca was right, but I didn't just want duty. I didn't even want just good s*x. I wanted Enzo to like me. I wanted Enzo to fall in love with me.

"I don't care what anyone says," Bianca continued. "He's not like my husband. Enzo's cold, yes, but he might not be heartless yet. You saw the way he looked at you when they called you in the room?"

I bit the inside of my cheek, trying not to smile. I had seen it. Just a flicker of something behind his eyes. A pause.

"He loved his first wife," Bianca added.

Lucia huffed. "Men like that don't love."

"People said he went crazy when she died."

"Of course he did," my mother said flatly. "He had a reputation to protect. Someone kills your wife, you retaliate. You don't go mad with grief. You go mad for revenge. You don't know what went on in their marriage."

Silence settled over the room.

Then I sighed. "You two are terrible at cheering me up."

Bianca laughed and leaned in, brushing a smudge from my cheek. "You'll be fine. Just remember: if it hurts, close your eyes and pretend it's not you, and that you're not there. Works like a charm."

Lucia clucked her tongue in disapproval, but didn't correct her.

"Oh," Bianca added with a wink, "and moan. Loudly. They like that."

I burst out laughing despite myself, hiding my face in my hands.

A knock at the door interrupted us. A voice from the hallway: "It's time.

My breath caught.

Lucia straightened her shoulders. "You're ready, tesoro."

Bianca stood, smoothing her dress. "Come on, let's get you married to the Devil."

I rose slowly, my gown cascading like water down my legs. I turned toward the mirror. For a second, I didn't recognize the girl staring back.

Was I ready?

No. But I was willing.

I took one last deep breath, fixed my veil, and whispered under my breath:

"It's time to marry Enzo Romano."