Page 13 of The Mafia Heir's Obsession

She rolls her eyes. “Klutz.”

I flash a sheepish smile and shrug but resist the urge to tell her about John and everything that happened tonight. Something holds me back.

Viviana sighs. “Lucie, I think Daddy’s going to try and marry me off.”

“Say no,” I urge.

“I can’t, I’m the firstborn.”

“It’s just his threat—say no and plead, and don’t mention Headley.”

“But I love him,” she whispers.

Viviana, who falls in love about eight times a year, is Dad’s favorite—the perfect daughter, the one who always behaves, the beauty, while here I am, overlooked and free. “Definitely don’t tell him that. You can get out of it. And then when you’re twenty-five, you can run away.”

“Mmm…” Her eyes close as I flip off the light. Twenty-five—that’s when the inheritance comes, when freedom is supposed to arrive. I’m only twenty-one, but Viviana is already twenty-four. She has a year left, and poor Maximo—who’s away at boarding school—is seventeen, with little hope of escape. Mom gave up on him years ago.

But I can’t worry about either of them. I can’t control a thing except, maybe, keeping Frank out of my head. Failing that, I can only try to force myself to sleep.

The next morning, my dad sits in his huge office that reeks of cigars and testosterone and announces, “This doesn’t concern you, Lucia, but you might as well be here. We need to rearrange our priorities—to deal with old and new threats. The world is changing, and I intend to change with it.” He slaps a newspaper onto his massive desk. It’s four in the afternoon, and he’s sipping a drink while the gold and gemstones on his fingers glint in the light.

“Where’s Mom?” I ask.

He narrows his eyes at Viviana as he strides over to her, taking her face in his hand and squeezing before letting her go. “She’s out.”

“Dad, what?—?”

“Are you wearing makeup, Lucia?” He turns narrowed eyes to me. “I don’t approve. And you won’t outshine your sister.”

I swallow hard and stay perfectly still—years of training stop me from flinching from his words as if he’d struck me.

“Now, girls, this pain in my ass Mitchum is dead, and I’m sure all of New York is celebrating. I will be, too. But things aren’t as good as they seem. To fix that, I’ve made a deal.”

I hate when he speaks in such vague terms so we don’t understand exactly what he’s done.

“There’s a powerful man connected to the Italians here with major ties in Europe. I need him—his money, his power,his clout. I made him an offer he couldn’t resist.” My father smiles. “So congratulations, Viviana. You’re getting married.”

Viviana leaps out of her chair, and I follow. She opens her mouth, but I push her out the door.

“Don’t,” I hiss. Then I turn back to my father. “She’s so happy, Dad, she’s speechless.”

He narrows his eyes at me. “And you will also be the perfect sister. On your best behavior when he and his family arrive for the engagement party. I trust you won’t embarrass me.”

I smile, nod, and reply, “Of course not.”

With Viviana outside the door, I take her hand and drag her over to the kitchen.

“I told you, didn’t I? I told you he had something planned. Oh, this is a fate worse than death,” she moans, tears springing to her eyes.

“Marriage is?—”

“Would you want it?” Anger flashes in her expression. I shudder as memories of Frank’s hot kisses, his fingers under my short dress, in my panties, separating my lips, curl through my mind. I swallow hard—I'm still technically a virgin—and I try to imagine a husband thrusting into me. I can’t. “No.”

“I have to do something?—”

“Viv, is there more to this? I mean, it’s not ideal, but plenty of mafia marriages start as an arrangement. It wouldn’t be forever, and maybe…” I swallow. “Maybe in a day or two, we can talk Dad down.”

She stares hard at me. “I can’t.”

---