Page 5 of Mafia King of Lies

Every cell in my body screams to fight this, to run, to burn it all down. And I stare at my father, waiting for him to take it back. Waiting for him to tell me this is all some sick, grief-stricken joke.

But he doesn’t. His face is unreadable, cold and final. Like a tombstone sealing my fate. I am being traded like I am nothing. And worst of all… I have no way out.

I blink and watch my father by the window. His eyes are cast out toward the backyard of the manor. I have never seen my father so downcast before. He is always a man of few emotions and even fewer words. But within the last forty-eight hours, I have watched the big, strong man I grew up with barely hold onto his composure.

Truth be told, I want him to break. I want him to shatter and come undone like the rest of us.

We all lost Antonio. He is allowed to grieve—he doesn’t have to be the big, strong capo.

“I don’t understand, Papá.” I grit the words from my lips. “Marry who?”

My father sips on his dark liquor again, wincing as the liquid travels down his throat. “Daniele. You will marry him within the next two weeks.”

Daniele. I haven’t seen him since I was ten, and he was the shadow in the corner, always two steps behind Antonio. And now he is to be my husband? What kind of man has he become? The thought sends ice trickling down my spine.

“This union will join the Faravelli and the Davacalli names as one. With my heir gone, I need to secure our power somehow and allow our legacy to live on. You will marry Daniele, and in exchange, Matteo will offer his resources and protection to help us rebuild and sustain what decades of our bloodline have built.”

I ball my fists at my sides. I have to bite down on my tongue to keep from speaking. The last thing I want is to speak out of turn, but the situation begs me to do so. I am not some meek little woman without a backbone—I am not my mama. I do not take shit lying down, but I know that, in this moment, my father just needs to be allowed to speak. But only for a few moments.

“Your marriage will protect the legacy that is now left without an heir. You will marry Daniele, and you will produce an heir for me—a son. I will groom him, and he will carry the name Faravelli to continue our bloodline.”

“This all sounds so archaic,” I mutter under my breath—then my voice rises before I can stop it. “You want me to marry a man I don’t even remember, to save a legacy I didn’t ask to carry? What about whatIwant, Papá?”

When I catch my father’s cool gaze, I clear my throat and look him dead in the eye. “Papá, you have an heir. You have me.”

“You are a woman, cara. You cannot lead this family. We will be the joke of society. Don’t act like you don’t know our customs and our ways.”

“All those people live in New York, Papá. We have our dealings here. We pulled out of the States a long time ago—why must we care what they think of us?”

“Maria, my word is final. You will marry Daniele within a fortnight. The arrangements are already in place.” He downs the rest of his drink and walks to the cart again to pour another. “If you want to truly help me, then you will do this. You will marry this boy, and you will save our family.”

“I didn’t realize our family was under threat, Papá.”

I hear him curse under his breath as he slams the glass down onto the cart. “Do you think these people are here to console a man who just lost his son?”

The silence that forms is deafening. I know the answer already—no. These people are here to deliver their final blows to my papa. A family without an heir is like a castle with no wall.

“They are here to see the easiest way to end me. Our family has been around for almost a century, Maria. Your ancestors built our name from the ground up, and I thought that by getting you out of New York—by pulling us out of the depths of that war—we could continue that legacy in peace. But I was wrong, and here we are. I… I need to protect what is left of my family. You and your mother are the most important things to me on this earth. You are what I live for. What I will always be willing to die for.

“We need Matteo. He is powerful and connected, and no one will dare to touch us under his watch. You will marry Daniele and move back to New York, where you will live with your husband and bear your children.”

I gasp. “Papá, I can’t leave you and Mamá. She just lost one child—you cannot ship her last one across the ocean.”

“And if you remain here, you will die.” My father doesn’t mince his words. “And if you die, Marta will kill herself in allher agony, and I will be left alone—with no children, no wife, no legacy.”

He turns back to face me. There is a resolve in his eyes that tells me there’s no winning this. He has made up his mind, and trying to go against him will prove pointless.

And so, I bite down on my tongue to keep from speaking and swallow my fate whole.

“Congratulations, cara mia,” my father lifts his glass in the air in a toast. “You are now engaged.”

And just like that, the last piece of me is buried six feet under, too.

I had been right earlier today—wherever the Warlord is, death is not far behind.

Matteo Davacalli didn’t come for condolences. He came to bury me, too—just slower, and in silk.

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