Page 5 of Declan

“Enjoyable enough,” I say, letting the sarcasm drip from my words. I’m not here for pleasantries. “Let’s get this done.”

His composure falters for a moment, the desperation creeping into his eyes despite his best efforts. He motions toward a private room, the kind of place where deals are made and lives are decided. Dark wood, heavy curtains, the smell of cigars so thick it can choke a man.

We step inside, Giovanni taking his seat at the head of the table, gesturing for us to sit. But we don’t. We stand, looming over him as he tries to maintain his cool.

“I assume you’ve met my daughters, Bruna and Silvana,” Giovanni says, his voice too smooth, too calculated. “They are eager for this opportunity.”

He never mentions Viviana, like she doesn’t even exist. I exchange a look with Kian. This is going to be even more interesting than I anticipated.

“They’re perfect,” I say with a sly smile. “No doubt about that.”

Giovanni’s smile widens, but there’s something behind it, something dark, desperate. “Not just beautiful but smart too. They would be an asset to you, Declan. A strong ally.”

He isn’t wrong. Bruna or Silvana would make perfect wives. The kind who’d sit quietly by my side at meetings, play the part, and smile when told. They are beautiful, obedient, and born into the right family. And yet, they bored the bollocks out of me.

There’s no spark, no fire. They’re pieces on a chessboard meant to be moved, arranged, and presented. That’s not the kind of woman I need at my side. I need someone with a bite, someone who can handle herself, someone who could challenge me.

Then there is Viviana.

She is the wild card, the one who doesn’t fit into Giovanni’s neat little box. She is the one who fought in bars, drank all night, and gave a middle finger to Nolan Keeffe during a gathering when she caught him staring. Viviana was everything her father didn’t want in a wife for me—and that’s why I can’t take my eyes off her.

“I’ve made my decision,” I say, my voice cutting through the tension in the room. Giovanni’s face lights up like a Christmas tree until I add, “Viviana.”

The silence that follows is deafening. Giovanni’s face drains of colour, his mouth hanging open for a second too long before herecovers. “Viviana?” Giovanni’s voice trembles, an edge of panic creeping in. “Are you sure, Declan? She’s… not like her sisters.”

“No, she isn’t,” I agree, folding my arms across my chest and watching him unravel in front of me.

Giovanni shoots up from his seat, pacing back and forth like a man whose entire world is crashing down. His hand runs through his hair in a wild gesture, frustration bubbling up in every step. “You can’t!” he spat, his face turning redder with every passing second. “Not Viviana. She is not a part of this.”

The shift in him is almost comical. He’s losing his cool, unravelling in front of me, and I haven’t even had to do much. It’s like he was so sure I’d pick one of his obedient daughters that he never once considered the possibility of Viviana. He didn’t count on this. Kian and Connor exchange glances, both of them surprised by the outburst, and in a way, so am I.

Giovanni doesn’t like Viviana as much as his two other daughters; everyone knows that. She’d moved out of the family mansion years ago, only showing up for events when necessary. So why is he so goddamn bothered by this?

“It’s decided,” Kian says, stepping forward, his voice like iron. “Viviana Morelli will join the Callaghan family.”

Giovanni glares, his jaw clenched so tightly I can hear his teeth grinding. “She is not a part of the deal,” he repeats, his voice lower, more aggressive now, losing what little composure he had left.

I step forward, letting my arms fall to my sides, my muscles tightening.

Who the fuck does he think he is?

“Be careful with your tone, Giovanni,” I warn him. “The deal is to marry one of your daughters, and I am free to choose any of them. The last time I checked, Viviana is your daughter.” I say the last words slowly, anger simmering in my voice.

He isn’t stupid. He knows better than to argue with me. If he tried, he’d get his ass handed to him. He knows the game I play. He knows who I am.

I walk toward Giovanni, leaning in just enough to make sure he understands there is no room for negotiation. “Viviana or nothing, Giovanni.”

He clenches his fists, visibly shaken, before he finally relents. “Fine,” he mutters, his voice hoarse and defeated.

We leave Giovanni’s office, stepping back into the room where the party continues, drinks flowing and conversations buzzing. But beneath the surface, the tension is palpable. Bruna and Silvana are visibly restless; Bruna’s fingers keep twitching at the seams of her dress, while Silvana’s flushed face betrays her nerves as she chews her lower lip.

Both of them are keyed up, their anxiety showing from a distance, and I can’t say I blame them. They both knew this was a possibility, but seeing it unfold like this? It must be a shock to the system.

But Viviana?

She’s sitting by the open door leading to the garden, swirling the last of her drink like she hasn’t a care in the world. Her posture is lazy, almost mocking, as if she believes there is no chance in hell I’d pick her. She’s leaning back, a look of indifference etched on her face, as though the entire evening’s events are beneath her.

My lips twitch into a smirk. If that’s what she truly thinks, then the reaction coming her way is going to be priceless.

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