Page 4 of Rosetti Family New York
My mind spins, struggling to comprehend my brother's words. For a second, the roar of everything around me vanishes, replaced by deafening silence. I stand there, unmoving. The suggestion is absurd. It feels like a joke, except I know Dom never jokes about business. My pulse hammers. I find myself at a loss, as if words have been ripped out of me along with my breath.
Marry the daughter? The phrase echoes until a flicker of anger lights inside my chest. My mouth finally catches up with my brain. I lean forward, a snarl twisting my lips. "You can't be serious."
I almost expect Dom to smirk and tell me it’s all a setup, a new way to mess with my head. But Dom just stands there, impassive and composed. Infuriating dick. He knows I don't back down from challenges. But this? The longer Dom holds my gaze, the more the truth of it sinks in.
With a sharp exhale, I finally bark out, “And you thought I’d be the best brother for the job?” I laugh. “No fucking way.”
“It’s how these things work. This is family, Leo.”
I spit the words back at him. “It’s how they worked in the fifteenth century.”
He doesn’t let me get the better of him. “You don’t do love. So marry this chick, what's the difference? You're a fighter not a lover, right? You said it yourself a thousand times.”
“That was different.”
“How?”
“That was before you told me I had to get married,” I snap. “You’re insane. We’re not animals. This isn’t going to happen.”
“It will,” Dom says, signing my death warrant. “If you want to run the new gem arm of the family business.”
I grab him by the collar and shove him back. He just lets me, because he knows I’ll regret it in a second. “I don’t care if you are my brother. Fuck you for thinking you can do this to me.”
“I’m thinking about family,” Dom says, brushing off his suit. “You should too. We need this, Leo. It’s everything.”
A woman walks past, makeup impeccable, skirt painted on, and heels even higher than her bankroll. I can see Dom noticing too, but I doubt he’s thinking the same thing I am. This glittering, skinny thing probably wears her daddy’s credit card like an award, but she’s got a mouth on her and a body that could keep me interested—at least for a little while. She saunters away with the kind of sway that makes you forget what you were talking about.
“And I’m the only way?” I ask.
“You’re it. I’d do it myself, but—”
“But you’re the heir. Sal’s saving you for a bigger fish. But what about one of the twins? Or Rafe? I’m sure they’d love to snag a hot, rich girl.”
“They’re setting up the fight rings with the Russians for the next few months, you know that.”
“So we wait. What’s a couple of months compared to years of wedded bliss?”
“The Albanians are trying to get into the rock business too. We have to move fast on this. So, it’s you. There’s no other option. Dad’s set on this.”
“Let him marry her, then.”
He almost smiles. Almost. “I don’t think Mom would like that very much. It's you or no rock business.”
He’s right, and he knows I know it. I’m trapped and twisting, an animal with its paw in a snare. A violent little animal that’s ready to chew its leg off.
Dom waits.
A pressure cooker. That’s what I am when it comes to family. I'll do anything for them, but I'll blow my top while it's going down, and he knows it. His patience is infuriating.
I spit my words at him like bullets, ugly and metallic. “If the girl doesn’t want this, I’m out. I’m not forcing someone to marry me.”
Dom doesn’t even flinch. He knows me too well. “I’ll talk to Richard.”
“I want to meet with her.” I insist. No way I'm marrying some woman I've never even met. No way am I going in blind
Dom looks surprised, like I’m more sentimental than he thought I was. Like I’m weaker. “All right. But it won’t make a difference.”
I hold his gaze because we’re still brothers, even if we’re different breeds. “If she doesn’t want it, it’ll make all the difference.”
