Page 44 of Forbidden Mobster's Daughter

I lift my chin. “I do.”

He walks in my direction with his arms open, but I lift my hand, gesturing for him to stay away. “Piccolina.”

“Don’tpiccoliname.” Frustration expands inside my chest, and I raise my voice. “After Mom died, I was a burden to you. I didn’t forgive her for a long time for choosing to leave the way she did. But now it makes sense. Because if I marry a man like Francesco, I’m not sure how long I’ll endure.” The tears I tried to hold back fall down my cheeks, and I wipe them with my index fingers.

“Don’t compare me with Francesco. Your mom and I loved each other. Things changed, yes, but?—”

Doesn’t he hear the hypocrisy in his own words? He’s even disgusted at being compared to Francesco, but apparently, Francesco is good enough to marry me. “Do you think she’d want to see me marrying this jerk? Without my consent?”

He runs his hands down his face, then lets out a long, exasperated sigh. “You have to understand… Francesco took the fall and did five years. He could have ratted me out.”

“I’m sure if he’d ratted you out, he’d only have created more problems for him and his family. He wasn’t a selfless victim in all this,” I say. “Besides, this marriage means uniting two of the most powerful families into one. Such a deal is very beneficial for the Carusos.”

“Yes. I just never imagined you’d fall for Guido’s son. This is the way of the universe to laugh at me.”

“You think this is about you? You know, Dad, a silly part of me expects you to do the right thing. Even if you haven’t done right by me since I was eleven.”

“I am sorry.” He looks down.

“I don’t need your words. I need action,” I say. “Please undo this wedding.”

Silence stretches between us, and he plops on the loveseat, confusion taking over his expression. Is he considering my idea? “The Carusos will be offended.”

It’s now or never. A jolt of hope goes through me, and I sit next to him and take his hands in mine, pleading, “Dad… I know a part of you wants to atone for your mistakes.”

He frowns. “How do you know?”

I tighten my grasp on his hands like I’m clinging to a life preserver. I remember Matteo’s words about me being persuasive when he kidnapped me in New York. I bet neither of us thought I’d get so close to changing my father’s mind in the eleventh hour. “I have to believe it. And I need you to believe it, too. And prioritize me instead of a man who’s a curse to women.”

An impatient, loud knock on the door startles me, and I disengage my hands from my father’s. “Who is it?”

“It’s me,” says an impatient male voice on the other side of the door. “Your groom.” Another knock.

Annoyance trickles down my spine. “Why are you here? The groom can’t see the bride before the wedding,” I say nervously. Did he hear any of our conversation from behind the door? At the height of my despair, I wasn’t exactly quiet. “It’s bad luck.” I could laugh at the irony of my situation.

“I wanted to check on you. Security just said there’s an intruder in the property.”

Intruder? My heart takes flight. Could it be Matteo? No. How could he have found out I needed him? Still, I have to have hope, even if it’s hanging by a ratty thread. I stand. “I can’t talk right now. I’m still getting ready.”

“Open the fucking door,” he says, his voice menacing.

I’m ready to protest again when he kicks the door open and rushes in, a flicker of evil in his beady shark eyes.

“Who the fuck is in here?” he asks, his gaze swinging between me and my father.

“I don’t know,” I say.

He comes closer to me, closing the distance between us, and I smell that obnoxious scent of too much fragrance.

A sense of dread builds and grows inside me.

He corners me against the wall, both hands on either side of me. “I heard you, my little bride. And I’ll make you feel sorry for humiliating me like this. Talking about another man before we get married. That’s not what I signed up for.”

I send my father a glance over Francesco’s shoulder, then focus again on the excuse of a man in front of me. “Listen… I’m sorry. I’m sure you can find a lot of women who would love to take my place,” I say. “Well… not a lot. Maybe one or two… but still?—”

“Quiet,” he yells, his hot breath fanning my face. “I’ll show you how you can make up for what you’ve done, you little slut.”

My eyes widen, and I brace myself mentally.

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