4

Present

I lied to her.

It’s easy to feed someone lies when you know they’re starving.

Right then and there, I told her I’d be back the following day to get her. That I had some contacts I could call, and that we needed twenty-four hours to get our stuff together to get out of the country. In order to spend the rest of our lives together, we’d need to spend the night apart.

Three hours later, I boarded a private jet with a heavy heart. It was the best thing to do at the time. We wouldn’t have been able to run and live the life I wanted us to have. I was called to serve, and no one runs from the Mafia. Not even Luca Bianchi. They would have skinned me for my betrayal. It would have been painful. I’ve seen it done, and I would have ended up in a shallow grave after a week of enduring the torture.

But Haven? My father might have taken her in as his own personal whore. Or sold her off to his best friend. Or even worse, handed her over to my brothers. I couldn’t have done that to her. So I lied. I hurt her, knowing I’d have to win her back when I returned. Things aren’t the same since I left for Italy. I’m no longer a boy trying to fight the inevitable. I’m a Bianchi, and the Bianchis live and die by the code.

Standing here in her bedroom watching her stare at me with hatred and fear won’t deter my plans. I knew this day would come. Even if I had to rip up the floor underneath her feet and carry her out kicking and screaming, she would be mine.

HAVEN

HE REACHES FOR my hand. I go to pull it away, but he’s faster. He yanks me out of my room and up the stairs. I feel my chest tighten as we walk down the hallway. I know where we’re going, and I dig my running shoes into the floor to try to stop us.

It doesn’t work.

Coming up to the door I barged through earlier, he places his large hand firmly on the small of my bare back. Opening the door, he pushes me in. I come to a quick stop as three sets of eyes look at me.

“There’s the bride-to-be.” His father smiles at me.

My stomach drops at his words. Like an anchor out in a bottomless ocean, pulling me deeper and deeper into the dark water, unable to get a breath. The light from the sky above gets dimmer with every second.

“Haven,” my father says my name.

My watery eyes go to his, and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. Or worried. “Why?” I croak out. My family knows how much Luca leaving destroyed me. My mother tried to distract me with expensive things, but my father just avoided it completely.

He tilts his head to the side, looking at me with concern as if I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. I think the situation warrants it. I wonder if he would place me in a mental facility if I refuse to do this? Can a father do that to a daughter when she’s legally an adult? I’m sure he could. But a straitjacket and a padded room would be better than being a Bianchi. Better than serving out a life sentence with a man I hate because he made me a fool.

“I already told you. Money.”

I turn to see Matteo is still leaning up against the wall by the door. His black eyes, that match his father’s, drop to my chest again and then my stomach. I wrap my arms around myself, hating how exposed I am. I should have changed while I was in my room.

A firm hand grabs my upper arm, spinning me around. I look up to see Luca glaring down at me. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and places it over my shoulders. I quickly shove my arms into the warm sleeves, thankful for the cover even if it does swallow me. My eyes fall to the gun holster that rests on his shoulders and the black .380 that sits in its place. I’m not afraid of guns because I was raised around them. My father is always carrying and so is my mother. Plus, being so close to the Bianchis, they always had bodyguards around who were armed.

I have the thought of taking it from him to shoot his father with it, but where would that get me? Luca doesn’t love me. He has proven time and time again that his loyalty does not lie with me. And as much as I hate him right now, I don’t want to die.

“Let’s get down to business, shall we?” My father claps his hands, and I jump at the sound.

“Yes, I must be getting back to New York,” Luca’s father agrees. As much business as John Bianchi does here, he hates being in Vegas. He has men here, like Luca, who take care of his shit for him. Luca runs the show, and Matteo plays a close second. “The party to announce the engagement will be this Friday. At Luca’s.”

That’s in two days.

“And the wedding will be in two weeks,” he adds. “It will be held at St. Mary’s Cathedral, and the reception will be here.”

“No one will believe it,” I whisper, my throat tightening.

“Oh, they will.” His father nods once. “Because if not, there will be consequences.”

My knees threaten to buckle at his threat. It was delivered so calmly, sweetly even, but I know he’s serious. The man is known for slaughtering people. His family has always been in the media. He’s been arrested for murders but never convicted. He either pays them off or keeps his hands clean. Either way, he’s not to be fucked with.

Luca ushers me over to a black leather chair in front of my father’s desk.

“I will admit, this is unusual. Most mafioso weddings, the bride is always a virgin.” John gives me a sly grin. “But we are all fully aware that my son popped that cherry years ago.”

I think I’m gonna be sick.

My father opens a drawer, and my heart pounds when I see him remove the paperwork from earlier and placeit down on the surface.

“No.” I jump to my feet. “I won’t do this.”

“Haven—” Luca begins.

His father interrupts him, spitting out some Italian I don’t understand. Four years of two different foreign languages and I never took Italian. Luca and I always joked that he would teach me, but we never got around to it.

Luca snaps something back, and his father squares his shoulders. Then his eyes land on mine. I take a step back.

“I’ve already signed it,” my father growls. “And so have the Bianchis.”

A vise grips my chest, and I shake my head. He rounds the desk, picking up the papers, and when I go to turn around and leave, he grabs my hand, squeezing my fingers together.

“Ow, Daddy,” I cry out. “You’re hurting me.”

He yanks me to the desk, and I stumble over my own feet, falling into it. He grips the back of my neck and holds me over it. My palms hit the surface, and I’m gasping for a breath. The tears pricking my eyes keep from being able to read the words on the white paper before me. “Sign it!” my father yells.

I shake my head. The tears that were clouding my vision fly, but new ones instantly replace them. “I won’t …”

He places a pen in my left hand and then wraps his hand around mine, crushing my fingers together painfully. I yank it away, and his large wedding ring cuts my finger. I stumble back, holding my hand to my chest.

My father straightens, and his blue eyes look at me with disappointment. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s never treated me remotely close to this. Why now? Why them?

“Fine,” he growls, then leans over the table and signs my name for me.

“That’ll never hold up in court,” I spit at him, my chest constricting from his betrayal.

“We are the court,” Luca’s father says with a sinister smile.

I fist my hands, my nails digging into my skin. Angry and fucking broken, I stand here helpless. What did I do for him to give me away so easily? Had he planned this all along?

I look over at Luca, and he’s glaring at my father’s smug smile. He doesn’t want me. This is his father’s doing. He left me and didn’t plan on coming back. But our fathers got together and devised this insane plan to tie our families. The only question is why? We’re not Mafia. My father isn’t a mob boss. That I know of.

“Nite.” Luca calls out a name, and I jump back when a man steps out from the shadowy corner.

Oliver Nite. They call him Silent Nite. He doesn’t speak, not anymore, and I don’t know why he took a vow of silence. How long has he been there? He looks at Luca, his large, muscular arms down by his sides. He’d be really attractive if not for his angry expression and kill-all attitude.

“Remove Haven from the room,” he orders.

I have a moment of panic when my throat closes on me. I don’t want to be in here, but I also don’t want to be with Nite either. We were never close. He’s a Bianchi. A killer.

When I go to protest, Luca’s eyes land on mine, and there’s a challenge in them. To defy him. To force his hand. To give him a chance to prove to the other men in this room that he fucking owns me. My mother taught me to pick my battles, and as I stand in a room with five very powerful men, I know the battles haven’t even begun yet.