Page 21 of Mafia King's Surprise Baby

There it is, the reminder she’s marrying Abrashi. My jaw tenses as my gaze alights on Bianca. Did she feel me watching her? She looks up then, our gazes locking. Mattia and Hana are bickering like an old couple already—they don’t notice the tightening of Bianca’s mouth, the clamp of her jawline at being reminded of her upcoming arranged marriage. Her body bristles as she straightens, like a hare caught in headlights.

Of course I knew she doesn’t want this wedding. But beyond the fact it’s been forced on her, I never pondered the logistics of it, what it’ll mean for her.

Jasir Abrashi is the kind of man who’ll make the fictional Christian Grey look completely tame and vanilla in his kinks. Is his brother Ardian also into such twisted shit, too? The womanhe’ll take to his bed, how will he treat her? Still, there’s some hope she’ll just be his wife, the one he does his husbandly duty with until an heir is begotten, and his fucked-up fantasies will be for his mistress or whatever prostitutes he’ll frequent.

Bianca, with such a man… With any man…

I have to steel myself against the images pouring into my head, keep my hand from closing too tightly on the glass of Scotch Mattia offered so I won’t smash the crystal in my palm and make a bloody mess in this pristine white kitchen.

“Leo, this is for you,” Hana says.

I tear my gaze from Bianca’s and look at her, at the rounded lines of the Cuban rum bottle in her hand. So they did get to island-hop. Good for them. I raise my glass in thanks.

“And this is yours. Got it from this guy who walked the beach every day.”

Bianca takes a piece of string and cloth, it seems, and Hana keeps handing her more stuff. Did she buy an entire shop over there?

“You know what? You should go try them on.”

“Good idea,” Bianca concurs. “Let’s go.”

They leave in a flurry of giggles, and the big room feels empty when they’re gone, like all the air got sucked out and I’m almost dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

“Hana can be a bit much,” Mattia says as he settles on a stool at the island.

I settle down next to him. “Never would’ve guessed.”

“I know. I’m surprised, too.”

“Good surprised?”

He takes a moment to answer. “Yes.”

“Good.”

We sip our Scotch in companionable silence.

“Why Bianca?” I suddenly ask.

I have no idea how the question slipped out. Guess I’ve been thinking about it for the past three weeks, and this is the first chance I’m getting to ask Mattia about his sister being betrothed.

“The alliance?” he asks.

“Yes. Why’d your father do it?”

Mattia snort-chuckles. “Remember what happened to the last person who asked this about my father?”

He received a bullet to the knee, which ended his career as a renowned jockey. Roberto Bonucci had fixed the race where he’d been forced to lose.

“That guy asked to his face. I’m asking you.”

He takes a small sip of Scotch. “It looks good.”

To the syndicate. Someone had to offer their daughter or sister up—he won brownie points this way.

“No one else had a daughter?”

“None eligible at the time.” He shrugs. “Paloma Salvatore only just turned twenty-one. Yesterday, if I’m not mistaken.”

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