Page 80 of Mafia Don's Twisted Proposal
He’s not happy about what his wife did, that’s for sure. I wouldn’t be either. The idea of missing out on my sons’ childhoods is abhorrent. I can’t imagine the depth of Miguel’s pain.
But I understand Sofia’s decision. I’d never force my children into arranged marriages. After seeing the misery my parents’ arranged marriage caused my mother, I decided not to force the tradition on my own children. There’s a long history of it in our culture—mafia, cartel, gangs. Even motorcycle clubs have formed alliances this way.
The one thing that many of those marriages have in common is that the woman gets stuck in a miserable situation. Look at my own mother. She might have had dreams of her own at one time, just like I did, but she didn’t have a choice in the end. My father needed a wife who could give him sons, and she was the daughter of a leader in the Moretti Outfit based out of Chicago.
Being born the daughter of a made man meant her life wasn’t hers. She was married to my cruel father and spent her life miserable until she was killed in a shootout between my father and some of his many enemies.
I used to resent her for being so checked out when I was growing up, but now I feel bad for her. She never had a chance at happiness. Looking at the way Miguel stares at Mia while she talks, I’m not sure if he would have forced her into an arranged marriage, but it makes sense for Sofia to have been concerned. Giving Mia to someone else to raise could be seen as a deep betrayal, but I look at it as a noble sacrifice.
When Mia gets to our marriage, she keeps it simple. “Whirlwind romance,” she calls it with a meaningful glance in my direction.
Miguel isn’t buying it. His eyes cut to me, and in that brief moment, an entire conversation takes place. He knows there’s more to the story. Knows his daughter didn’t just happen to fall for a mafia don by coincidence.
He’s going to have questions for me later. I’m counting on it.
The afternoon becomes a parade of introductions as Miguel calls his sons to meet their sister. Four brothers, their wives, more children than I can count. The compound fills with voices and laughter as the Cardenas family embraces their lost member.
And I watch Mia come alive in a way I’ve never seen before.
Her hands fly as she talks, genuine joy lighting up her face as she connects with these people who share her blood. She looks more at ease than I’ve ever seen her, like some piece of her finally clicked into place.
She belongs here. That’s the thought that keeps circling through my head as I watch her laugh with her brothers, as I see her sisters-in-law pull her into their circle like she’s always been there.
What the fuck am I going to do if she decides to stay?
The question haunts me through dinner, through conversations where I play the role of devoted husband while panic claws at my insides. When Miguel finally pulls me aside, I’m almost grateful for the distraction.
His office is all business—heavy desk, leather chairs, the kind of room where life-and-death decisions get made daily. But he doesn’t sit behind the desk like I would. Instead, he plants himself in front of me, arms crossed, every inch the protective father.
“Tell me the real story,” he says without preamble. “How’d you end up married to my daughter?”
I turn to the window, buying myself time to think. The compound is lit up like a fortress, which it essentially is. Guardspatrol the perimeter, weapons ready, protecting the family inside.
“I sought her out after I learned who she was. I saw an opportunity.”
The words hang in the air like an admission of guilt.
His hand slams into my shoulder, spinning me around. Before I can react, he’s got a fistful of my shirt and I’m pinned against the wall.
“Pendejo.”
I don’t need to speak Spanish to know he’s cursing me.
“You forced her to marry you?”
The accusation makes my blood boil, but I shove him back just hard enough to create space. “I didn’t force her. I had a plan, and I made it happen. Quickly.”
“What plan?” His hand twitches toward his waistband where I’m sure he’s carrying.
“It doesn’t matter what my plan was. Plans change. I care about her.”
His laugh is harsh. “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”
“I don’t care what you think of it.” My voice stays level, but it’s taking everything I have not to snap. “Mia’s opinion is the only one that matters.”
“Then tell me why the fuck you waited until now to bring her here. You said you’ve been married forweeks.”
The accusation hits home because he’s right. I kept her from her family for selfish reasons, and we both know it.
