She Married The Mafia Heir I Married The Next Don Chapter 07
Our Deal
My father comes home three days after the dinner.
He asks me to join him in his study.
There are two cups of coffee on the desk.
Neither is for me.
“I’ve given your situation some thought.”
My situation.
I sit down.
“Nico Morello may be suitable.”
I keep my face still.
My father watches for a reaction.
“He has the name. His father is willing to discuss it.”
“And Nico?”
“He understands the value of a connection between our families.”
That isn’t an answer.
It’s also probably the closest thing to one I’m going to get.
My father picks up a document.
“You would be well provided for.”
By a man with very little of his own.
But that isn’t what matters to my father.
Nico is a Morello. Marrying him would look respectable.
He has no powerful mother’s family to complain about my manners.
And he isn’t Alessandro.
Bianca’s future would remain untouched.
“I want to see him first.”
My father looks up.
“You met him at dinner.”
“I spoke to him for five minutes.”
“You weren’t supposed to speak to him at all.”
“Then arrange a meeting.”
“Mara.”
“If he’s as suitable as you say, what’s the problem?”
He leans back.
I wait.
He wants this settled.
He wants to stop wondering what I might say the next time someone mentions Bianca.
Finally, he nods.
“I’ll arrange lunch.”
“Without you at the table.”
His expression hardens.
“His people and ours can wait outside,” I add. “I’m asking to speak to the man you want me to marry.”
For a moment, I think he’ll refuse.
Then he waves a hand.
“Fine.”
Nico is standing by the window when I enter the private dining room.
He turns.
“Mara.”
“Nico.”
I close the door.
Neither of us reaches for a menu.
“Your father works quickly,” he says.
“When he wants something out of the way.”
Nico sits opposite me.
“Is that what you think this is?”
“For him? Yes.”
“And for you?”
I pour a glass of water.
“That depends on your answer.”
He waits.
“Have you thought about what we discussed?”
“I asked you a question.”
“I remember.”
“What can you bring?”
I put down the glass.
“My father can’t send me into this marriage empty-handed. Not after what he’s giving Bianca.”
“How much?”
“I’m finding out.”
“That sounds uncertain.”
“It is. But the De Santis name isn’t.”
Nico says nothing.
“My father doesn’t have to love me to dislike seeing his daughter embarrassed. Once I’m your wife, some of your problems become his.”
“Some.”
“Yes. I’m not offering you his whole family.”
“What else?”
“I know people yours don’t talk to.”
He raises an eyebrow.
“Mechanics. Drivers. Women who clean houses.”
“Knowing people isn’t the same as having their loyalty.”
“No. Loyalty costs something.”
“Money?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes it costs listening when everyone else tells them to shut up.”
He studies me.
I keep going before I lose my nerve.
“I’ve spent my whole life figuring out what people want before they decide to hurt me. I know how to work. I know how to make money last. And I’m not afraid of looking foolish while I learn something I need.”
“That part I believe.”
I almost smile.
Almost.
“What do you want?” he asks.
“I want you to run the family.”
His face doesn’t change.
But his hand stops beside his glass.
“You’re very direct.”
“I’ve wasted enough time trying to say things nicely.”
“My brother is the chosen successor.”
“I know.”
“He has men who have spent years expecting to profit when he takes over.”
“I know that, too.”
“And you think you can change it?”
“I think you want to.”
For several seconds, he says nothing.
Then he leans forward.
“And when I do?”
“I want the people who treated me like something they scraped off their shoes to have to look up when I walk into a room.”
He watches me.
I don’t soften it.
“I’m not going to pretend I only want a quiet life.”
“Good.”
The word catches me off guard.
“Good?”
“I wouldn’t believe you.”
I laugh once.
Then I grow serious.
“I’ll help you get what you want. But I won’t do all of this just to spend the rest of my life asking your permission.”
“What would you expect?”
“To be heard. To have work that matters. To keep what I bring.”
He nods slowly.
“And I would expect you not to burn down something useful because your sister happens to be standing inside it.”
I look at him.
“That’s fair.”
“Is it?”
“Yes.”
He sits back.
Outside the room, a waiter passes the frosted glass.
For a moment, I hear plates and ordinary conversation.
Then Nico says, “All right.”
I wait.
“That’s it?”
“You’ve told me what you want. I believe you.”
“And what you want?”
“You already know.”
I lift my glass.
“To a good arrangement.”
He picks up his.
“To making it work.”
The glasses touch.
For the first time since coming home, I leave a room without wondering whether the person behind me wishes I were someone else.