Page 6 of Heartless Union

I take a deep breath. None of that matters. What matters is Nico and his money.

And if he’s willing to look at me as the true leader instead of my father.

I look away from Lara and pretend she’s not even here. Her opinion of me doesn’t matter. If we’re getting married, she won’t have a choice any more than me.

She’s just a woman, after all.

“So, Nico,” I say. “Tell me about yourself.”

CHAPTER 2

Lara

Ialways knew I’d get married one day. It’s the way for Mafia women—marry young and pop out a lot of babies. It’s what my father prepared me for.

And yet, I’m still surprised when he tells me he made a marriage match for me.

I thought I’d have more time.

“Lara, I need to talk to you,” he says over breakfast. It’s just him and me. Mom ran off when I was a kid. Fortunately, our maid, Sarah, is a great cook; otherwise, Dad would be clueless on how to feed me. I’ve tried learning how to cook myself, but Sarah always pushes me out of the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” I ask warily, slowly taking a bite of my scrambled eggs. After what my father told me a few days ago, I’m nervous when he comes to me with any news.

“There’s a man I want you to meet. His name is Rocco De Luca. His father, Leonardo, is a huge influence in this city.” What my father means is Leonardo is a Mafia boss.

I’ve come to terms with what my father does for a living. I know I live in this expensive townhouse because of the illegal things he partakes in. I benefit, so I’ve never seen a reason to be bothered by his activities.

“You want me to meet this man … why?”

Dad clears his throat. “Because I want you to marry him.”

I feel my breath leave my body. “Marriage? Already?”

“We’ve talked about this before.”

“I know. I know I’d get married young, but … wow. It’s becoming real.”

“That’s why I want you to meet Rocco. See if you like each other.”

I set my fork down. “Do I really have a choice? I know you, Dad. You want me to marry this Rocco De Luca because you want more power.”

“I also,” he says, reaching across the table to take my hand, “want you to be safe when I’m gone. You need a husband to protect you.”

“It’s the twenty-first century.”

“You know that’s not what I mean. The world you’re a part of is a dangerous place. A lot of men will want to hurt you when I’m gone. I need you taken care of.”

“I understand,” I whisper, ducking my head.

That’s the thing about my father—he’s dying.

He told me a few weeks ago.

It was over the breakfast table when he told me his cancer had returned.

“You can do chemotherapy again,” I’d said.

He shook his head. “Lara, I’m done with that.”

---