Page 47 of Forced Arrangement

“You don’t get it,” she says, her voice sounding like dry leaves rattling down the New York streets. “This,” she waves her hand at the remnants of the mess in the kitchen, “this happened because of me. All of the bad things that are happening are because of me. I can’t just run away and hide, and I don’t have any choice about marrying you if I stay. The only way I can make this right is to marry you, whether I want to or not.”

Whether I want to or not. The words sting. I know I should be able to divorce fact from fiction. I know that I told her this was all just a temporary game we were playing until her father’s legacy was secured. But somehow, somewhere along the way, I’ve realized that I’m falling for her, that I want more.

The realization washes over me in a wave. I want romance with this woman. I want her to fall in love with me, to be thrilled on her wedding day as she walks down the aisle toward me. I want her to get to plan the perfect mafia princess wedding, to invite all of her friends to come see us get hitched.

I don’t want her to choose me out of necessity, because our fathers forced us together. I don’t want a bride who is marrying me at gunpoint.

I want her to love me the way that I have come to love her.

“Can the…Doc…help you escape?” Justine says, her voice trembling a little. She looks between us, her skin so pale that she looks like a beautiful specter standing in the kitchen in front of us.

“He could,” I agree, although the thought of someone changing her face, altering her beauty makes me sick inside.

She shakes her head firmly. “No,” she says. “All I have left of my parents is my father’s business and my mother’s face. I’m not changing any of it. I’m facing it. I’m claiming it. They are both mine, and goddammit, I’m not letting some gutter shite try and take it from me.”

I blink a little at the cockney phrase rolling off her tongue. I look over at Justine and she’s smiling a little. Franco is even giving her an approving look.

“I’ll let you two sort out the details of all of this,” Franco says. “I need to take the Maid of Honor to her place to get some sleep.” He gestures to Justine, and she floats over to him, allowing him to place his arm over her shoulders and guide her toward the elevator.

I watch them vanish into the elevator, headed down to her apartment, and then I turn to Sophia.

“You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I tell her again. “We can figure something out that doesn’t involve you staying here, being exposed to all this danger.”

Sophia gives me a hard look. “Here’s the thing,” she says. “A few weeks ago, I would have given anything to avoid all of this, to avoid coming back here. But now,” she looks around at the messy kitchen, then down at her blood-encrusted nails, “now it’s like there’s a fire burning in me, like my heart is made of hot coals. I want him topayfor this. I want to secure what’s mine…and yours, for so many reasons.”

She presses her hand to her belly, looking down at her fingers. I see her breaths lifting her shoulders ever so slightly as she gathers herself, steadies herself.

“If you want this, I will help you to the best of my ability,” I promise her. There are so many other things I want to say. I want to speak of love, duty, and commitment, but I can’t, not now. None of the affection that I feel for her is helpful right now. Maybe it won’t ever be.

“Thank you,” she says, still looking down at her hand pressed to her flat stomach. “This is going to be a tough fight. When should we get married?”

“I can get someone to marry us tomorrow if you want,” I say.

She nods. “Do it,” she says, then turns away and goes to her room.

Chapter Sixteen

Sophia

“You look beautiful,” Justine says to me, fussing over my long hair, which she has been putting into an updo.

I look at my reflection. I’m pale, but the lack of color in my skin somehow makes me look starkly attractive paired with the lacy, white wedding dress that Justine and Franco somehow tracked down this morning.

My morning sickness has taken a break for the day, which is a blessing. I can’t imagine anything worse than having to run to the bathroom to vomit in the middle of the wedding ceremony. A shotgun wedding ceremony would never be improved by a puking bride.

“Are you sure about all of this?” Justine asks me. Her color is back today and I think that her renewed calm has something to do with Franco. He stayed with her all night last night. I hope he helped her to forget the horror of yesterday with some affection.

“No,” I say honestly. “But there’s nothing else that makes sense. I have to do this, whether I want to or not. I have to seethis through, for all of us. I’m the only one who can keep us all safe.”

“But do youwantit?” she asks me, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

I know what she’s asking. Do I want Angelo? Do I want to lead the Agostini family?

The truth is that I think that I do, much to my surprise. I hate how this is all unfolding, hate that we are in danger, hate that I have to fight tooth and nail to assume my birthright.

But I stillwantall of it. I think I actuallywantto be the don of my family, and I know, with every fiber of my being, that I want Angelo. Just the sight of him this morning in the kitchen with his hand in a splint, his hair a mess, sipping his coffee, made me ache with longing.

For some reason, I don’t feel alone when I’m with him. Justine is the only other person who has ever been able to fill that gap for me. The fact that Angelo makes me feel seen and loved is a rare gift. I know I would be foolish to throw that away.

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