Page 37 of Forced Arrangement

Predictably, it’s Guiseppe who speaks first. He leans back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “A woman can’t lead this family. You know that as well as I do, Castiglia. This isn’t the local PTA. This is the Cosa Nostra.”

The statement hangs in the air like a slap, and then I see the flicker of anger cross Sophia’s face. I had expected Guiseppe to make trouble—he’d been a thorn in our side since Carlo’s death in every way, quietly gathering his own supporters. He sees himself as the rightful successor, despite having no real claim to the family.

“I don’t take orders from women,” Guiseppe adds, his voice dripping with disdain. “Besides, this family needs a leader who understands how to handle power, not someone who’s spent her life running from it.”

The room is silent and all eyes shift to Sophia. I see the anger flash in her eyes, but she keeps her composure, her chin lifting a fraction as she faces the room. I note the flaring of her nostrils that indicates that she’s breathing hard, but she looks steely, composed and dangerous. I feel a frisson of lust shiver over my skin.

“I may not have been raised in this life,” she says, her voice clear and strong, “but I was born into it. And I have every intention of protecting the family my father built. That’s more than I can say for those who’ve been trying to tear it apart from within.”

Her gaze lands on Guiseppe, and the tension in the room thickens.

“You think you deserve to lead because you’re the son of someone important?” she asks, her tone sharp. “Or because you’ve been spreading whispers and turning the men against me behind closed doors?”

A few of the men shift uncomfortably in their seats, exchanging uneasy glances. The truth of what Sophia has said is undeniable—Costa has been sowing discord for weeks, hoping to tip the balance in his favor. He has his followers, but not enough to make a direct move. Not yet.

Guiseppe’s smirk faltered slightly, but he didn’t back down. He’s still a handsome man, although dissipation is starting to show around the edges. He reminds me of a rose that is just starting to fade from full glory, the brown of rot slowly curling the tips of the petals.

“A woman can’t lead this family,” he asserts. “You don’t have the experience. You don’t have the strength. You’ve been gone for years and you come back expecting us to bow to you because of your last name?”

I can feel Sophia’s muscles tense beside me, but before I can step in, she takes another step forward.

“Strength?” she echoes, her voice dangerously soft. “You think that’s what you have, Guiseppe? You think spreading lies and playing politics behind people’s backs makes you a strong leader?” She snorts and leans forward on the table. She yanks back the sleeve of the suit she wore to this meeting, pressing the delicate skin of her wrist forward.

“The Cosa Nostra might not respect women, but it respects one thing above all else: blood.” She nods sharply down at her exposed wrist, the blue veins standing out starkly as she stretches her wrist forward. “The blood flowing through my veins is the blood of royalty. I was born for this, forged for it even, and the blood flowing through my veins is a far greater claim than any you can ever press, Costa.”

Guiseppe’s face hardens, and his voice rises. “You don’t understand how power works.”

There is a beat of silence and then Andre, another one of the more powerful men in the family snorts, loud and derisive. “A woman leading us? Are you joking?” He stands, the scrape of his chair loud in the tense quiet. “This isn’t how things are done, Angelo. You think parading Carlo’s daughter in front of us is enough to keep this family together?”

“I’m not here because of tradition,” Sophia says, her voice clear. “I’m here because I was born to lead this family. My father built it and his blood runs through my veins. That makes me the rightful heir. And as long as I’m standing, no one will take this family from me.”

A few murmurs break out among the men, but Guiseppe’s smirk only widens. He turns to the men around the table, spreading his arms as if to say,do you believe this?

“Women don’t lead, Sophia. Women don’t command respect—they don’t inspire fear. Women belong…” he lets his words hang for a moment before continuing, his voice dripping withcontempt. “…on their knees in front of their men. That’s where they serve. With their mouths open. or in the kitchen.”

Disgust and anger pull in my belly, and my palms ball into fists. It would be easy to pull out a gun and make sure Costa never utters another word again, but I agreed to play this her way.

“Not my wife, that woman cannot tell the difference between salt and baking soda. I think the bedroom is where they belong. To be seen, not heard,” another man says, and laughs.

A few of his loyalists snicker, but the rest of the men are quiet, eyes darting between Sophia and me. Guiseppe has crossed a line, and he knew it. But this is his play—to provoke, to insult her publicly. To make her lose control.

Before I can react, Sophia speaks.

“You're all so backward you belong in the stone age.” She shakes her head, walking straightening up.

She takes a step toward Guiseppe, meeting his eyes head-on. “It’s funny how men like you always seem so afraid of women who can do things. Is it because you know you’ll be crushed by us once you let us have our freedom?”

Guiseppe’s smirk falters for just a second, but he recovers quickly. “I’m not afraid of you. I just don’t take orders from women. And neither do the rest of us.”

“I take orders from women,” I say. “This organization depends on good leadership, no matter who offers it.”

Sophia’s eyes flash to mine, and she gives me a brief smile before turning away. “I’m not here to beg for your respect, Guiseppe. I’m here to take it. And if that means I have to teach you a lesson in humility, so be it.”

His sneer returns. “Humility? And how exactly are you going to teach me about that?”

“The old-fashioned way,” she replies smoothly. “You seem hell-bent on proving that I can’t do anything you can do. I seemto remember that my father used a very simple method to figure out who belonged in his inner circle. Surely you remember this,” she baits Costa, giving him a saucy wink.

I enjoy watching Costa squirm. Each time she brings up something from the past, something that only someone on the inside can know, it’s another nail in his coffin.

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