Page 133 of Forced Vows

I have to agree. I see more of the cousin that I knew when we were younger than I have in two decades.

"Marrying her does nothing for la famiglia," Uncle Sal says.

"No, but it would do a lot for your son. He's a good, loyal man. He deserves to be happy. And you know Aunt Ilaria agrees with me."

Uncle Sal lets out a long-suffering sigh. "My wife sometimes allows sentiment to overcome good sense."

"I'll be sure and tell her you said so," I say with a shark's grin.

Uncle Sal just rolls his eyes. "You can't get me in any more trouble than I am already. I haven't been friendly to my son's girlfriend and according to my wife, that is equal to a cardinal sin."

I'm not surprised Aunt Ilaria has taken such a shine to Bianca Gemelli. Salvatore's housekeeper is my aunt's best friend and Rosa has adopted Bianca right under her protective wing.

I wait for our uncle to leave before rounding on Sev. "What the hell was that?"

Without answering, Sev walks over to his drinks cabinet and pulls out the whiskey. Pouring himself a glass, he asks with a raised eyebrow if I want one too.

I jerk my head in the affirmative.

After handing me my glass and taking a sip of his own whiskey, he looks me straight in the eye. "We have to present a united, strong front in the face of Henry's bid for power."

"Agreed." It's more imperative now than ever to go public with our mob alliance.

Sev frowns. "Brogan called me earlier. Róise refuses to move up the wedding date."

"She didn't say anything about…" I let my voice trail off because that's not true.

Okay, yeah. She said she wasn't going to agree to it. But only once. And she didn't bring it up again.

I left Long Island believing Róise was onboard with the new plan.

Or not really caring either way?

Because I assumed having Brogan's agreement was what really mattered. I'd gone to tell her myself about the change out of courtesy, not because I was looking for her approval.

"Cazzo," I mutter.

Sev just looks at me.

"She was mad at the dean, and I fixed that problem." Believing I was doing her a favor.

Managgia la miseria.

Tripped up by my own arrogance. Because I didn't fucking ask. Róise said she wasn't going to walk down the aisle and I dismissed that as her go to reaction.

Stubborn refusal.

My brother throws back the rest of his whiskey. "Apparently she was mad at you."

"You think?"

"Yep."

"That was rhetorical," I say sourly.

"Brogan said that she came to him asking for a different groom last Friday." My brother drops this bomb without inflection.

"No fucking way."

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