Page 11 of Finn

The look he shoots Alessia doesn’t go unnoticed. It makes me wonder how much has actually already been decided on and if Alessia is aware of how badly her father wants this marriage to happen.

Our pasta plates are cleared, and servings of the most delicious-smelling veal are laid before each of us.

“Where did you go to college, Finn?” Alessia asks.

Cillian laughs before I can answer, and Mario narrows his eyes at his daughter.

“I didn’t. There isn’t much need for higher education in our line of work.” I can tell she’s trying to make me sound like an uneducated street punk. “My father taught me what I needed to know about the business. He took a trial-by-fire approach to my training.”

“How did that work out for you?” she asks.

“Pretty well, considering I’m here to discuss marrying a spoiled Mafia princess because her father knows how powerful my family is. And the fact that, together, we’ll very well be unstoppable.” Cillian, Mario, and Lilliana’s eyes ping-pong between Alessia and me.

“What good is a piece of paper when you have the respect of some of the most resourceful and dangerous criminals within the state? I had better things to do with my time than read a bunch of dusty books by dead guys,” I continue before taking a bite of the mouthwatering veal in front of me. Damn, Mario’s cook is a fucking genius with a slab of meat.

“Did you go to college, Alessia?” Cillian asks in an attempt to ease the tension at the table.

“I did.” She sits straighter in her chair with a proud smile on her red lips. “Yale, then Wharton for my MBA.”

“How is that working out for you?” I take a sip of wine and Alessia looks at me like she’s trying to telepathically make me choke on it.

Most women in this life don’t work a day in their lives, and I doubt she’s any different. Sure, she can talk a big game with her fancy degrees, but does she really know how to play?

“Actually, Finn, Alessia’s been a great help to my business. She’s assisted my accountant and financial advisers in several more delicate business matters. She works for our real estate development company as well. She’s quite knowledgeable when it comes to financial strategy.” Mario smiles at his daughter.

“So you spent all that money to be a glorified accountant? Good to know I’m marrying a woman who can balance a checkbook.” I’m being a dick. Actually, learning this about my soon-to-be wife is impressive, but like hell will I show her that.

“Well, like I said earlier, nothing is set in stone,” Alessia says, taking a sip from her wineglass and shooting me a brittle smile.

Looks like I struck a nerve. Obviously if she went to Yale and Wharton, she’s smart as hell and would probably have some fancy, high-paying corporate job if she weren’t the daughter of Mario Amatto. But she needs to learn if she wants to take little digs at me, I’ll bite back.

Cillian gives me a subtle kick under the table, and when I meet his eyes, they’re imploring me to shut the fuck up. This marriage will cement my family and the Amattos as two of the most powerful organizations on the East Coast, and the look in Cillian’s eyes is telling me I’m one word away from fucking it all up. That’s fair, but damn, that girl is good at getting under my skin. It’s no secret the Italians have always looked at us like we’re dirt beneath their shoes. We aren’t running some penny ante gang like the ones we’ve pushed out of Boston, but the Italians have never treated us with any kind of respect. That’s been fine and dandy with me through the years. Let the assholes underestimate us. We’ve proven time and time again that we can hold our own. Which is why sometimes my mouth likes to run away with itself. Even if it’s not the most opportune moment.

“Your family is Catholic, yes?” Lilliana asks, trying to direct the conversation into more neutral territory.

“Yes. My mother wouldn’t allow us boys to miss a Sunday mass.”

“I look forward to meeting her. I’ve always wanted Alessia to marry in the faith and raise children with the same beliefs she grew up with.”

Alessia looks at her mother and her jaw tics with irritation. Looks like this isn’t the first time Lilliana has mentioned children in her daughter’s presence. Though I’m not opposed to having them if that’s what she wants, kids aren’t a deal breaker for me. My mother, on the other hand…

A member of the serving staff comes out to clear our plates and another lays the most delectable-looking cake in front of each of us.

“Tiramisu. It’s our cook’s specialty.”

I take a bite, and the chocolate coffee flavor explodes on my tongue. Shit, maybe I should marry their cook instead of their ball-busting daughter.

“Does this recipe come with the marriage contract?” I ask, taking another bite of the decadent dessert.

“Sorry, it’s her most guarded secret. But don’t worry, I’m sure the contract will entice you more than the tiramisu,” Mario replies.

I guess we’ll see about that.

Chapter four

Alessia

Dinner is...not going well.

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