Page 10 of The Don's Prisoner

“Dead serious,” I told her and waited for that to sink in for a minute. “My father is the Don at the moment although my nonna, who was in charge before him, still calls a lot of the major shots. Shots like me needing to marry and carry on the De Carlo name in order to take my father’s place when he retires—even though I feel I have already proven my loyalty and drive while being his right-hand man for the last twenty years.”

“Twenty years?” she asked and looked me up and down. “How old are you?”

“I’m thirty-six. How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven,” she said and took a deep breath. “So, you want me to marry you so you can be king of the goons one day and take over… what… everything? And I’m supposed to have your children so they can inherit everything your family has been running for a century and carry on the De Carlo name. Do I have that correct?”

I nodded.

“So essentially you want me to give birth to Mafia children. You’ll raise them to be thugs and bullies. Murderers and gangsters. Is that it?”

I nodded again.

“Well, if they so choose…” I amended, not wanting her to back out just based on that. “But it’s more than just that. They will inherit the banks and all the legit businesses that our family has set up, including all of the charities and government buildings designed to help the poor and unfortunate. We are not just ‘gangsters’, as you put it.”

She raised an eyebrow at me as if she didn’t quite believe me, so I leaned forward and ran a hand along her cheek. She flinched away from it and glared at me even harder.

“Don't you dare touch me,” she bit out, and I sat up straight, putting my hands up in surrender.

“I only meant to show you I can be sweet and gentle when I want to be. I’m not just a hard-ass brute.”

She scoffed.

“Sure, because sweet and gentle people threaten people’s families to get their way. And blackmail them into marriage. There are so many things wrong with this scenario, I can’t even begin to count them.”

“They do these things when they have no other choice,” I countered, getting up off the tabletop and walking around to the other side of the desk. I figured it would be good to give her a little bit of space. She was right. I was forcing her into this. Not that it really mattered as long as I got what I wanted. But seeing as what I wanted involved so much of her cooperation, I could at least be nice to her.

“I have done so many things to so many people,” I continued, “that if I’m excommunicated from my family, then I am pretty much a dead man. I would have to move to another country and create a new life, start over with a new identity and no resources. And that's only if my enemies didn’t catch up with me first.”

I paused and turned to her. She wasn’t looking at me directly. She was staring at the shelving unit behind me, but she looked deep in thought. I waited for her to turn her head back to me before giving her the crux of the matter—the reality that twisted in my gut like a knife.

“If they cut me out of the family, it’s a death sentence. So, now I need to create a new life to save my own.”

“That’s a horrible thing to do to someone they consider family,” she finally said with a sigh. “Alright. A deal’s a deal. I will marry you for appearances’ sake, but I can’t give you children. Hell, I can’t even imagine you touching my face let alone...”

She let the rest of that sentence hang in the air unsaid, and I left it there. I would be touching her in a sexual manner, and she would be giving me children. It was only a matter of time.

“I can live with that,” I lied. “Now, I am a very busy man and know shit about weddings. I will give you my credit card and will pay for whatever you need, but you will have to plan everything. Invite whoever you want and make it wherever you want just as long as it happens in the next few months. My Nonna needs to see that it is a real wedding. She’ll have her people checking up on me, so we will have to spend a lot of time together and get to know each other in the meantime.”

She gave me another displeased look and straightened the collar of her shirt.

“Did you ever stop to think that I may be a busy woman? Do you have any idea what it takes to plan a wedding? Do you have any idea how much it costs?”

“I don’t, but I figure it would be less painful for you to organize it how you please than for me to do it and force you into that as well.” I folded my arms over my chest. “I know nothing about what you like, and women tend to form attachments to things in their wedding. Just plan it however you like, and I’ll pay for it.”

To prove it to her, I reached into my pants pocket and pulled out my leather billfold. Opening it, I withdrew my black card and handed it to her. She took it almost as if she couldn’t believe it was real, looking carefully over the front and back of it.

“You’re giving me your card? Just like that?” she asked, a hint of shock in her voice. I nodded, putting my wallet back.

“Just like that,” I said. “I can’t have my fiancée paying for everything, can I? Money is nothing to me. Use it for whatever you need, I don’t care. So long as you end up with my last name.”

She blinked at it and put it in the front pocket of the very small purse she had brought with her.

“That’s… very generous of you,” she said, almost as if it pained her, and I grinned.

“Well, I’m a generous man, Victoria. You’ll learn that eventually. Now, unfortunately, I do have a meeting to get to. Can I give you a ride somewhere?” I asked, but she shook her head as she stood up.

“No, I’ll call an Uber.”

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