Page 5 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

I knew how things worked in the Old Country. They intended to join the two families in marriage to settle a business dispute between Fausto and this other man, Buscetta.Iwas the solution.

“No,” I blurted.

Virga cocked his head. “Perdonami?”

Though it was likely unwise, I tried to explain. “You hope to marry me to this Don Buscetta person, but I’m not part of that world. I’m in my second year at university. I plan to become a doctor.”

“You are Emma, Roberto Mancini’s youngest daughter. You are part of our world whether you like it or not.”

I rubbed my forehead and tried to think it through. No way Frankie had agreed to this. Which explained why no one told me—Fausto had no intention of marrying me off to a total stranger.

Looking up, I said with total conviction, “My brother-in-law will not allow this.”

“Your brother-in-law does not have a choice. We serve a greater good, which is the brotherhood. Whether it’s in Sicily orCalabria, the ’Ndrangheta or the Cosa Nostra, it’s all the same.”

I didn’t believe him. Fausto answered to no one, save my sister. “My answer remains no. You’ll need to make peace some other way.”

“There is no other way, signorina. And this has already been decided.”

I pulled my phone out from my back pocket and unlocked it. If this man wouldn’t listen to me, I would ring Fausto.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Virga said. “It would end very badly for your sick father.”

I paused, my finger hovering over the glass. “What did you say?”

“Your sick father, upstairs. Did you think we were unaware? Your father is dying, signorina, and if you do not come with me today, I will send my men upstairs to kill him. Is this what you want?”

My blood turned to ice in my veins and I sucked in a sharp breath. “You wouldn’t.”

But deep down I knew he would.

Virga’s smile was filled with menace. “If you wish for your father to live, then you will not involve Ravazzani. You will pack a bag and come with me to Sicily.”

I thought of Papà, weak but still very much full of life. Could I save myself and allow him to be murdered? I knew I couldn’t do it. This was my father, the man who’d hugged me and helped me with homework. Bought me lemon cheesecake when I was feeling down. Taught me chess. Allowed me to pursue a career as a doctor.

“And we will shoot his aide, as well.”

Horror rolled through me. Gloria didn’t deserve to die any more than my father did. I couldn’t live with myself if either of them were hurt because of me.

Did this mean I was agreeing to marry a Sicilian mafia don?

No, no, no. Please, no. I didn’t want a life of violence and blood, death and destruction. My sisters might not mind it, but I needed to help people. To heal and comfort. To give back.

I couldn’t become a mafia wife.

Lightheaded, I gripped the chair’s armrests. Air refused to enter my lungs, my body seized in dyspnea. “This can’t be happening,” I wheezed.

“I’m afraid it is very much happening, signorina. If it doesn’t, then not only will you cause the deaths of those two upstairs, you will cause a war between Buscetta and Ravazzani. Is this what you wish, to risk your sisters and their families?”

I knew how mafia wars ended, with carnage and loss. There were no winners. Fausto’s first wife died in his last war, after all. I couldn’t risk Frankie or my niece and nephews.

My eyes grew hot, but I wasn’t a crier. I had to be strong for myself and for my family.

I had to be the responsible one.

I pushed my emotions down and tried to think logically. “This Don Buscetta, does he want to marry me?”

Virga’s lips thinned, the lines around his mouth deepening. “It does not matter. He will do as he is told, as will you.”

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