Page 5 of Heartless Union

“It doesn’t matter. A marriage is just what I have to go through to gain power. Whoever Lara Bianco is, she can deal with it.”

Massimo snorts. “Sure. That’s going to go over well.”

“Just and wait see. I’m good at a lot of things. Marriage shouldn’t be any different.”

The day comes for me to meet my potential future wife.

I’m not nervous. This is a business deal. That’s all.

The meeting is at Nico’s house, which is a similarly expensive townhouse like my father’s. But unlike my father’s bad taste, Nico’s house is decorated beautifully. A man with money and taste? I can work with that.

My father and I arrive, and a maid lets us is. She’s young—just in her twenties. And she’s hot; I’ll give her that. If I met a girl like her in a bar, I’d take her home and fuck her.

But I’m not here for the maid. I’m here to meet Lara.

A man in his fifties stands up when we enter the living room. “Rocco, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Nico.” He shakes my hand. “And this is my daughter, Lara.”

I look over at the girl sitting demurely on the couch. She’s honestly the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Soft brown hair. Light blue eyes that stand out against her dark hair. Fair, unblemished skin. Petite.

I wouldn’t be mad waking up to her every morning.

“Lara,” Nico says, motioning her over, “come say hello.”

She stands up and walks over. The top of her head barely reaches my shoulders. “Hello,” she says softly.

“Hello,” I respond, taking her hand.

Her eyes flick up to mine and then away in a heartbeat.

We all take our seats. My father and me across from Lara and Nico.

“So, marriage,” Nico says.

Father chuckles. “You don’t waste any time. I agree. I think our children marrying each other would be a good show of strength.”

I tune out my father and Nico’s words as I look at Lara. Her head is bowed, and she doesn’t seem to be listening in either. It’s like her mind is somewhere else.

“How old are you?” I ask her.

She doesn’t respond.

“I asked you a question.”

Nico clears his throat and gently nudges Lara.

She glances up, her eyes wide like she’s surprised we’re in the room. “I’m sorry. What was your question?”

“I asked how old you are.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

Not much older than Gabriella. That bothers me a little bit, but it’s not unexpected. Most Mafia girls marry young.

What actually annoys me is how Lara didn’t hear my question. Where is her mind? And why isn’t it on me and this meeting? I’m supposed to be her future husband, and she can’t even give me the time of day.

I’m used to women giving me the time of day.

Lara goes back to staring down at her lap, not even trying to engage with me in conversation. That’s just rude.

---