Page 9 of Mafia Virgin (The Kings of Italy)

My body recoiled, everything inside me screaming to run, to fight. There was one person I loved, just one, and Virga had somehow learned of her existence. And he was using her to force me into a marriage I didn’t want.

Emma couldn’t want this, either. I had done some digging into her after the meeting with Ravazzani three months ago. She was only twenty, far too young for me. Not to mention studious and smart, on her way to becoming a doctor. She wasn’t interested in the role of a mafia wife. Everyone knew it, including her family.

I had to reason with Virga. “What of her father? Her brothers-in-law? As of three months ago, her family didn’t want this.”

“They will do as they are told, just as you will.” Merciless dark eyes stared back at me. “Don Borghese will keep Ravazzani and Mancini in line, just as I am doing with you. In this we are in agreement.”

Leaning in, he continued more quietly. “You stupid fuck. Think of the leverage this marriage gives you over both of those men. You can get our drug business back from the ’Ndrangheta. Marry her, ragazzetto. Get her pregnant. Do your duty to the brotherhood or your sister pays the price.”

I didn’t move. I let him see all the hatred boiling inside me at that moment. But I was cornered—and we both knew it. I wouldn’t risk Viviana’s life. I’d survived a family full of vipers for thirty-two years just to keep her safe.

I could survive this, as well.

Drawing in a deep breath, I edged around the old man and headed for the priest.

CHAPTERTHREE

Emma

Hope soared in my chest as Don Virga argued with another man across the room. This had to be Don Buscetta, who appeared about two seconds away from ripping Virga’s head clean off his shoulders.

What I learned about my prospective groom earlier today didn’t ease my worries, either.

“Obey him,”Don Virga had advised.“Don Buscetta used to fight professionally. He once beat a man to death in the ring. What do you think he will do to a woman who defies him?”

Beat me, too? I didn’t want a violent husband. I didn’t want a husband at all. I needed to finish school and help care for my father. The End.

But I couldn’t back out. Don Virga’s men were in Toronto, waiting in hiding to kill Papà if I didn’t go through with this.

My only hope was that Don Buscetta had a way to avoid a marriage between us.

Please let him refuse.

Buscetta started in my direction, his chin set with determination, and my heart sank. Oh, no. Please, no. I shivered, even though I was sweating in my day-old clothes.

Holy smokes. This couldn’t be happening.

I tried to take a step back, but the man on my right tightened his hold on my arm, preventing my escape.

Buscetta snapped at the priest, his deep voice reverberating with anger. I understood Italian, but not the Sicilian dialect. So I couldn’t catch each of Buscetta’s rapid words, but I noticed that the priest visibly paled as he started the service.

The service. As in, my wedding.

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears, my mind reeling. Was I actually being married off to this man? Things like this weren’t supposed to happen in the western world anymore. This was the twenty-first century.

“You know the mafia has different rules than everyone else.”

How many times had Frankie said this to Gia and me growing up? An ache settled in my chest. I missed my sisters so much.

Never had I felt more alone. Taken from my home by a group of murderers and brought to a run-down hotel in a strange country. Now I was standing next to a stranger, repeating words against my will in a room full of men with guns. Not a single member of my family was in attendance, not even my twin. No maid of honor, no bridesmaids. My father wasn’t here to give me away. The backs of my eyes burned with unshed tears. This was a nightmare and I couldn’t wake up no matter how hard I tried.

I’d get an annulment. No one was required to stay married anymore. My family—my two brothers-in-law, to be exact—would never let this marriage stand. I needed to go through the motions today and Virga would withdraw his men from Toronto. Then my father would be safe and I’d dissolve this marriage.

It would be like it never happened.

“Lo voglio,” Buscetta growled from behind clenched teeth.I do.

The priest turned to me and rattled off a quick stream of Italian. When he paused, I knew what was required. Except I couldn’t force the words out. My tongue felt thick and awkward in my mouth.

---