Page 1 of Brutal Power

Chapter 1

Elena

“If he’s not built, I’m not marrying him.” I lean back against the counter of a juice bar in the middle of an obscenely fancy gym with an exclusive membership list that doesn’t actually include my name.

Stefania, my brother’s wife and one of my best friends, punches me in the arm. “You realize that’s unreasonable, right?”

“I think it’s totally reasonable.” I rub the spot she hit and give her a serious look. “Would you marry some skinny weirdo?”

“You don’t know that he’s skinny. He could be perfectly average.” Stefania sweeps her hair over her shoulder. “And it doesn’t matter because you already agreed.”

“It does too matter, and be honest with yourself. You’re freaking gorgeous and if my brother weren’t big and handsome, you never would’ve stuck around.”

She rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue, because she knows I’m right.

I know I’m being unreasonably shallow, but it’s mostly a nervous joke. Because Stefania’s right: I already agreed to this match, and it doesn’t matter what he looks like.

I’m not the kind of girl that’s allowed to back out of a promise.

The place isn’t very crowded. Attractive women who all look like Instagram celebrities wander around the place in tight, sexy workout clothes. I’d bet a kidney that they’d all be filming themselves if this place didn’t have a strict NO PHONES policy per the dozen different signs posted all over the place. Fortunately, I went out and purchased a stupid little teal Lululemon outfit so I don’t stand out, and Stefania looks like a freaking model in basically anything she wears, so nobody looks at her twice.

Which is good since we’re not supposed to be here.

I might’ve pulled some strings to get us in here today. I happen to know the owner’s brother’s son’s cousin, and she happens to know a few security guards because she used to sell them coke when she was in college. After a little negotiation, here I am, sipping on an absolutely delicious fruity drink while trying to spot the man I’m supposed to marry.

“Elena, I love you to death, but this is dumb even for you. I mean, you do realize he’s going to spot you, right?”

I wave away the naysayer and wonder if I should’ve brought Emily, my other sister-in-law. She’s usually game for this sort of stuff, except she’s the Don’s wife now and can’t really get roped into my hijinks anymore. Which sucks for her because I’m fun.

“I’m taking that risk.” I finish my drink and toss the cup into the trash. “If you were a newly minted Irish mafia Don, what sort of exercises would you do?”

Stefania sighs and rubs her face with both hands, pulling down her eyelids and shaking her head. “First of all, he’s Irish, so he doesn’t call himself a Don. And second, he’s obviously lifting weights.”

“He could be doing cardio. And what do you call him then?”

“Weights. And I have no clue. Should we ask him?”

I wag a finger in her face. “This is recon only. Do you know how annoyed Simon would be if he heard about this?”

Stefania slaps my finger away. “Yes, I’m aware, which is why I keep saying we shouldn’t be here right now. Why can’t you just do this the normal way and meet him when everything is official?”

I turn my back on her and don’t respond. She should understand how I’m feeling right now. A couple years ago, she was arranged to marry my brother Davide, and things weren’t always roses between those two, not at first anyway.

This is my chance to figure out what my life’s going to be like without anyone hovering over my shoulder. I love my older brother and I think he’s a wonderful Don. I agreed to this arranged marriage deal because I know it’s important to the Famiglia, and I’ve spent my life taking care of all the people I love, but I need this for myself right now. Just a glimpse of the guy, just so I know what my husband’s going to look like.

I tried the easy way. I Googled him, went real deep into all the social profiles, but there are very few pictures of Brody Quinn on the web, and all of those are old. Besides, a picture tells a thousand lies, or whatever that stupid phrase is, and I need to see the flesh and blood.

It’s irrational, but I’ve always worked like this: gut feelings and vibes.

I walk off onto the lovely gym floor. It’s like a mixture of a high-end hotel and a Planet Fitness. People are doing actual workouts while others lounge in saunas, steam rooms, and take yoga classes. I try to be all stealthy and keep to the edges of the crowds, but the problem with a fancy exclusive high-end gym with a six-figure yearly fee is that there aren’t a ton of people who can afford it. Meaning, this place isn’t crowded.

I’m ready to give up. My friend thought Brody would be here, but maybe she was wrong, or maybe this is his rest day. I smile and slip around toward the weight room, pausing to admire a particularly shredded gentleman doing what look like impossible sit-ups with weights and an incline, when I feel Stefania tugging at my elbow.

“Hold on, he’s on ten and I think he’s going to keep going. My god, look at that guy’s abs. I want to eat them.”

“Elena,” she hisses. “You can’t eat people. Also, look over there.”

“Fifteen! He’s going for twenty! If he makes it, I might just reward him with?—”

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