Page 217 of Merciless Desires

Moretti’s face was twisted with terror. He knew that if our meeting ended poorly, his fate was entwined with the man’s at my feet.

I released my grip, letting the man slump forward. My associates swept in, and once I nodded, they dragged him out of the room.

Wiping the blood from my face, I sat across the table from Moretti. He couldn’t look me in the eye. His gaze darted around the room, but I stayed silent until I had his full attention.

“What are you willing to offer in exchange for living beyond your means, Moretti?”

“Please,” Moretti began and shook his head. “I’ll do anything. Please… My family…”

“Anything?” My brow tweaked up with intrigue.

“Anything.” Moretti echoed softly, followed by the defeated sigh of a broken man.

After his request to meet, my associates had gathered information about Moretti. About his situation, his routine, and his family.

His family had caught my attention.

“A bride,” I stated.

Moretti blinked. “A…a bride?”

I settled further into my seat. “Yes, a bride. You have three beautiful daughters, Moretti. Isn’t that right?”

I knew it was right. I wanted to hear him say it.

“Yes…”

“Then you have something I need. In exchange for making your debt disappear, you will provide me with a wife.”

Moretti was silent. He finally ripped his gaze from me to stare at the table, searching the wood grain for an answer.

There was only one answer I was willing to accept.

“I can’t…” Moretti whispered.

That wasn’t the right answer.

Chapter Two

MARCELLA

“You’re not doing it right,” Annabella grumbled.

I swatted her hand away from the braid I had started along her temple.

“Shh,” I chided. “Yes, I am. Can you braid your own hair?”

“No,” my youngest sister whined.

I breathed a chuckle and continued to Dutch braid her smooth long hair. Mamma preferred to keep Annabella’s hair in a braid because it was easier to manage that way. She wanted all of her girls to have long hair.

“There.” I tapped my sister’s shoulders when I finished her braid. The ends of her hair still brushed against her lower back. “All done.”

“Thank you.” Annabella grinned at me in the mirror. “Will you make me risotto?”

“Again?” I flicked her braid over her shoulder. “You’re going to turn into risotto if you keep eating it every day.”

Annabella followed me out of her room and down to the kitchen, begging me the entire time to make the cheesy tomato risotto that she loved. She didn’t like the way our chef, Silvia, made it, even though I was certain Silvia followed the same steps I had.

---