Page 2 of Wicked Union

I slip into my room and shut the door, hoping to be alone, but Melody comes in first, then Jasper. I sob into my pillow as my younger sister rubs my back. She has no words to say to me, nor does Jasper, but they are present, and that's enough. It's this unspoken grief we all bear together, the things we do to make our family strong, though none of them as severe as what I will go through this time.

"Hey," Jasper coos. He climbs onto my bed and pulls me toward him. I lay my head on his lap, and he pulls my hair back around my ear. "Remember that time we got into Dad's bourbon when we were just preteens?" He speaks with a hint of nostalgia in histone. It's a good memory. He was twelve. I was ten. Melody was only eight years old and far too young to be drinking with us, but we all had a few sips and giggled for hours.

"We thought it was laughing juice," she says fondly, and her hand continues to smooth circles into my back.

Gone are the days of childhood fun and games. We're in the real world now. A world where whiskey drowns heartache. "I could use a glass or two…" I tell Jasper, and he nods at Melody, now twenty-five and totally in love with a good man. I would never take that from her.

"I'll go…" she whispers, and then she's gone.

"Jasp?" I turn and look up at him and see the anger in his expression too. He hates that I'm trading myself to save our family as much as I do.

"Yeah, Ari?" He plucks more hair out of my eyes and curls it behind my ear with the others.

"If this man's a douche bag and turns out as awful as I'm afraid he'll be, you'll rescue me, right?" I'm barely holding it together now. Jasper has rescued me more times than I can count. More times than I care to admit.

"Aria Elaine, if this man doesn't treat you like the queen you are, I will slit his throat myself and burn down his whole empire."

And I believe him. The minute he takes command of our family, things will change, but all in good time. Dad has a few more good years in him, and we have to get the financial situation we're in sorted or there will be no organization for Jasper to take over. I nod at him, but the tears continue to flow.

Now where is Melody with that drink?

2

TITO

Ican't get enough whiskey in my body fast enough. I've been listening to my father ride my ass for years about getting married. Thirty-nine isn't too old to be a bachelor. Besides, tying myself down to one woman seems pointless when I have such God-given looks. A different woman every week has been my way of living for as long as I can remember. I don’t have to get attached. I don't have to put money in their hands, and I don't have to deal with their emotional issues.

"I'm just saying, I don’t see why I have to have a woman on my arm in order to lead." The idea that a wife will somehow make me more well-rounded or level-headed is preposterous. My father has lived the past twenty years without my mother on his arm, though he was happily married for twenty before that. The whores in and out of his bedroom destroyed that, which is one reason I think this will turn out to be a sham. Sex with one woman for the rest of my life? Who can ever commit to that?

"Because you're my son and I will not give you the keys to my kingdom unless you follow my orders." Dad's shout is louder than it needs to be and causes a pointless coughing fit. His lungsaren't getting any better no matter how many rounds of chemo and radiation he has blasting through his cells.

Scowling, I set my drink down and walk over to him, one hand on his back, the other on his hand. I lead him to the couch where he slowly settles in and takes his handkerchief to cover his mouth as he continues to hack. Blood dots the white cloth. I know his time is almost up, and I'll be the leader of this family. My attitude and rebellious nature just come out of me. I can't stop them, though I know I should.

"Dad, you need to stay calm. Getting so worked up that you shout only makes this coughing happen." I pat his shoulder as he hunches over, breathing and hacking into the handkerchief, but he comes up for air and continues his lecture.

Albeit, this time, his voice is callous and gravelly. "Tito, the Peralta girl is the ideal candidate. Not only does she come with access to a greater reach of territory and authority, but she also has good genes. She will produce an heir, expand our territory, and make you more powerful than all of our enemies. And she was raised in the same life you were. She knows about the business. She won't be frightened when you come home soaked in blood."

The idea of coming home to someone doesn't necessarily deter me, but it doesn't sweeten the pot. However, the idea of larger reach, more territory, more money, more power—all of that has me listening intently as he describes the arrangement. What can I do, anyway? If I don't marry her, Carlos will, and if that happens, I will lose my right to lead this family. Carlos isn't the leader we need. Everyone knows I am. But with this ridiculous stipulation that I be married to ascend the throne, it's the only way to assume my power. What happens after his death is another story. Divorce isn't off the table.

"Alright, Pops. Just take a deep breath and try to stay calm." I pat his back again and stand to retrieve my drink. The swirl of alcohol in my head only calms me slightly. I wonder if Ms. Peralta is okay with this arrangement or if she's being forced. A woman in her twenties in a family like hers, I bet she's being forced. That brings a smile to my lips for some reason. Call me a sadist.

The doorbell rings and I know they're here. Mr. Peralta and his daughter whom I have yet the pleasure of meeting are slated for a visit to make this official. I'm vocal with my father, but I'm not one to rebel against his direct orders. Until now, his "encouragement" to select a wise partner for my life has been suggestion. Now it has become my only option, and because none of the women who frequent my bed suit me, I'm stuck with the one he has selected.

"They're here," I say, finishing my drink. I don’t bother sitting back down. I'll be forced to stand when they walk in anyway, but I do head to the liquor cabinet in my father's office to refill my glass, which I sip on as I wait.

Chris leads them in, and my very first impression of the woman to whom I am now obligated is shock. She stands a few inches taller than her father, though not at all towering in height. Her slender form is hugged by the suit she wears, a dark navy color that isn't flattering to her warm skin tone at all. But the long, dark braid dangling over her left shoulder is alluring, making my fingers itch to undo it and see how that hair would fall around her face as she rides me.

"Ah, Mr. Peralta," my father says as he stands. Only moments ago, his coughing was so bad he could hardly speak, and now he bolts to his feet with renewed vigor and strength. I'm always in awe of how he pulls himself together even in his pain and misery.I'm learning from him every day. He’s the sort of man I want to embody at all times.

Mr. Peralta reaches out his hand and shakes my father's, but Ms. Peralta only stares at me. I can't read anything in her expression, either—no fear, no malice, not even a hint of attraction, pleasure, or uncertainty, for that matter. Intriguing that she's so stoic when faced with such a harsh punishment. I wonder if her father trained her to be this way or if she is just that good at maintaining her composure. Either way, it's impressive.

"Aria, you remember Donatello." Mr. Peralta nods at my father, and Aria reaches out a hand. Judging by the look in my father’s eyes, if he were ten years younger and in good health, he'd have her bent over his desk before day's end.

"I remember. Nice to see you again," she says, and her voice is symphonic, setting off ripples of arousal inside me. I have to wait days to be wed to this beauty? Such a shame I can't invite her to my bed this evening.

"And this is my son…" Dad's hand gestures at me, but his eyes stay fixed on her. I don't blame him. She's exquisite. The way her shirt is slightly too tight makes the spaces between her buttons bulge, giving me only the faintest peak at the soft curve of her breasts, but I like the mystery of it. "Tito," Dad says, and I step forward, extending my hand.

Aria places her delicate fingers on mine, and I bring them to my lips and kiss them gently. This might not be so bad after all. A woman this gorgeous who is all mine to do with as I please, who must obey me or suffer consequences—this could be fun.

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