5. Davide

The pulse of the club pounds against my head. The crowds feel like the bars of a cage, and I flex my left hand against the dull tingling pain that shoots up to my elbow, trying to work the nerves out, but nothing ever really calms it down. Right now, I don't mind the distraction. I've been obsessing about the girl that spilled her drink in my lap for the better part of two days and I'm only back at this hellhole dealing with the close-packed crowds because I'm hoping I'll run into her again.

Stefania Rossi. I knew there was a chance I might bump into her here since her brother Carlo owns the place, but I had no idea I'd get such a spectacular first impression. I lean back in my seat at the VIP lounge area up on the balcony overlooking the dance floor and close my eyes, a smile on my lips, thinking about the way she asked me to clean her off with an incredible mix of confidence and nerves, like she wanted me badly enough to overcome her natural aversion to fucking strange men in club bathrooms.

I hadn't planned on going that far with her, but once those words spilled out of her mouth, how the hell was I supposed to control myself?

The music's too loud and the crowd makes me uncomfortable. I keep looking for the exits and picturing the chaotic stampede that would break out if there were a fire or an active shooter or some shit like that. I want to hold onto the good thoughts, picturing my mouth between my future wife's legs, except this always happens to me in enclosed spaces. My mind starts to drift back to the darkness and the tingling discomfort in my scarred arm intensifies until I either drink myself into a fucking stupor or I get out of whatever situation is triggering my bad reaction. But I'm putting myself through this, like I put myself through it the other night, on the off chance that I get to see her again before everything is made official.

My men Bruno and Emilio are busy flirting with the waitress and they don't notice when Carlo Rossi appears at the VIP rope. He slips past his bouncers and approaches, and my useless bodyguards only spot him when he's already sitting down in the chair beside mine and shaking my hand. They move to come over but I give them a sharp nod—and at least they have the good sense to look ashamed. Worthless fucks.

"I'm glad you're here again," Carlo says over the music. He grins at me, a little too charming and a little too loud for my tastes, but I've been told that he's the Rossi Famiglia's best wartime crew leader. It's hard to imagine him riding into battle, but I've heard the rumors, and if they're even half correct, he's a formidable man. I respect him for that.

"I couldn't stay away. My men enjoy your hospitality too much." I speak loudly so I can be overheard while I give them a sharp look. The waitress scampers away, her face turning pink at my insinuation. "And Gian told me that Don Renzo spoke with your sister today about our arrangement."

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about." Carlo glances over toward the stairs that lead down to the main club. "Renzo told her about the situation and she was a little surprised. Actually, she's here right now and wants to come talk to you, but I told her she'd better stay away and cool off for a few days first."

My eyebrows raise. "Send her up if she wants to speak with me."

"I don't know." Caro shifts uncomfortably in his chair. "Look, Davide, can I be straight with you? Stef's kind of pissed and she's not in a great state of mind right now. I'm pretty sure she's going to say something stupid. Maybe it's better if you, you know?—"

He's trying to kick me out. If it weren't so fucking hilarious, I'd be insulted, but lucky for him, I find this more than a little amusing. He probably thinks his sister is angry because of the arrangement, and I'm sure that's a big part of it, but I suspect I know the real reason she's livid right now.

"Send her up. We'll have a civilized conversation."

Carlo clears his throat. "Are you sure? I'm serious, she's on the fucking warpath."

"She's going to be my wife soon. I might as well get a feel for her temper now and learn how to handle it."

"You're a stronger man than I am," he mutters and gets to his feet. He gestures at his bouncers and one of them disappears. "I'll send up fresh drinks for you and Stef and maybe some girls for your men?"

"I'll take the drinks, but not the girls. If your sister's as mad as you say, I think I'll need my guards on top of their game."

Carlo laughs and I'm only half kidding. I have a feeling she's going to try to kill me, and I'd like it if someone were here to stop her before I have to put her down myself.

A minute later, she appears at the top of the steps, her face set in cold fury, her hands balled into fists. She's wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, not the sexy little black dress she had on the first night we met, which would be a shame if she didn't look so fucking good without getting dressed up. I'd seen pictures of her before coming out here from my home back in Chicago, but they were a few years old and didn't do her justice.

She's slim and short with thick, dark hair, and full lips that look like heaven even when they're pressed together and bleached of color. Her body's immaculate, curvy right where I like, and her smooth skin tastes like honey and whiskey. Her dark eyes glare into mine and Carlo's right, she looks like she's going to try to knee me in the dick again, but this time she isn't going to stop until I'm puking in agony.

I find the idea of fending her off strangely arousing. Another reminder of how completely fucking broken I am.

"You shouldn't be back here," she says, standing over me. Bruno and Emilio move to the far side of the lounge area and pretend like they aren't paying any attention. "If you were smart, you would've run back home."

"Why would I do that? I got a little taste of my future and it turns out that I liked it."

She takes a step forward, her shoulders trembling. "Did you know who I was?"

"Yes," I say and cock my head at the way her nostrils flare. "Should I lie and pretend like it was a surprise?"

"No, I don't want you to fucking lie, I just want to understand what the hell you were doing."

I pat the chair her brother had been in just a minute ago. "Sit down and we'll talk."

"I'd rather stand. If I get any closer, I'm going to try to stab you in the goddamn throat. An arranged marriage? And you knew about it?" She practically gags on that last part, and if I were a normal person, I might even feel bad about it.

Instead, I feel nothing, only the urge to get the fuck out of this overly crowded building.

"I'll remind you that you're the one who assaulted me that night."

"You dragged me into a bathroom," she says and throws her hands up. "What the hell was that?"

"I planned on cleaning you up. What actually happened was a pleasant surprise."

"You fucking knew." She takes a step closer. "That whole time, you knew, and you didn't say anything. You just let it happen. You let me embarrass myself."

I hold up a hand as the waitress arrives. She puts two drinks down on the table, a wine for Stefania and another whiskey for me. I take a couple big sips, holding the glass with my left hand because the cold feels good on my scars. Stefania's staring at the burned, mottled flesh, and when I raise my eyes questioningly, she quickly looks down at her feet.

"How was I supposed to tell you?" I ask, keeping my voice as measured as possible. "It wasn't my place to break that news. I was there that night to meet with your brothers, not to speak with you, and what happened between us was a total fluke of good luck."

"Good luck?" She laughs bitterly and grabs her wine, downing half in two big gulps. "God, I'm so fucking embarrassed by this whole thing, and you're just sitting there like this is no big deal. We're supposed to get married and we freaking—" She cuts herself off like she can't say it.

"We had a very special moment together in the men's bathroom of this club," I say, struggling to keep a straight face. I can't help but fuck with her. She's getting so damn flustered and I find it beyond sexy when her cheeks flush red and her jaw works. "Isn't it better that we're getting married now?"

"No, not at all, and I never said I'm going to marry you."

That makes me sit up. I'm not exactly thrilled about this situation either, but I wouldn't dare refuse to do my part for my family, even if that means taking a wife I don't want, even a wife who clearly despises me now.

"I wasn't aware you had a choice," I say, which makes her even more angry. Although I don't know why—it's not like I have a fucking choice either.

"I don't know how it works where you come from, but my brother isn't going to force me into anything. Maybe it screws up your stupid plans, but you can marry your freaking hand for all I care, because there's no way I'm spending the rest of my life with you."

I take a slow, deep breath to keep myself calm. She's upset right now, which is completely understandable, but I don't think she understands what refusing this marriage will do. I gesture at the chair next to me again.

"Please sit down and listen to me for one second."

"No, I said what I came here to say, and now I'm done. I'm not marrying you. Good luck being a prick to someone else."

"Stefania," I say, struggling to keep myself under control. "You stubborn, selfish girl, sit down and just listen."

"I'm stubborn and selfish?" Her eyes widen and a shocked laugh escapes her lips. "You're saying that I'm the selfish one?"

"If you break this marriage, you will be screwing up months of negotiations and putting your entire family in jeopardy. I don't know what your brother told you, but this arrangement isn't some fucking fairytale fantasy love story. This is about the survival of both our organizations. Now, sit down and listen."

She doesn't move. I can tell I have her attention at least. Her face softens and she looks skeptical, but she's not yelling at me anymore, which is a step in the right direction.

And it helps that I'm not lying.

"Talk fast," she says and sits on the very edge of the chair. She downs the rest of her wine. "I'm out of here in two minutes."

I rub my face, beyond frustrated by this entire situation. I almost wish I hadn't gone down on her in that bathroom, except I don't think I'll ever really regret that. The look of ecstasy on her face as she came on my tongue is worth this fucking headache.

"Your family is weakened from years of fighting a war," I tell her, speaking quietly enough that she's forced to lean closer. "They need our connections to the Mexican cartels for better access to drugs, and they need it fast before their rivals begin pushing into their territory."

"We have no rivals," she says, waving me away. "The Milano Famiglia and the Rinaldo Famiglia are both allies. There are no other crime families in Philadelphia."

"Not yet, you're right, but the New York families are going to move in soon. Those sharks smell blood in the water, and they plan on muscling onto your turf now that you've been beaten up and weakened, and it'll work unless your brother does something drastic."

All of that is true. Renzo allegedly had spies in the New York families and they reported back on their plans, which happen to match the rumors we heard from our own little listening network. But I can tell she doesn't believe me.

"Let's assume that's true." She looks like she really doesn't want to concede the point. "What do you get out of it?"

"My family's dealing with our own internal issues. Your brother will provide us with direct access to his overseas contacts in the illegal arms trade. We plan on increasing our personal stockpile while selling to various other factions in Canada and on the West Coast. Basically, you get drugs and we get guns. It's a match made in heaven."

She looks down at her wine glass like she wishes it were full again. I nudge my whiskey toward her and she hesitates for a heartbeat, but grudgingly accepts it.

"What happens if we don't do this?" she asks, taking a sip and making a face. "God, I hate this stuff." She drinks more of it and glares at me. "You're telling me there's no other way you guys can hash out an arrangement? It sounds like a straightforward business arrangement."

That's exactly what I said to my father two months ago when he came to me with this plan. I wasn't fucking happy about it, just like she's not happy about it, but his explanation is the only reason I'm sitting here in this damn club talking to a girl who hates my guts.

"You know as well as I do that marriage is stronger than any other formal bond. Contracts can be broken, but marriage is blood and family. It's how our world has done things for a very long time, and for a good reason. Marriage won't only just provide the guns and drugs we both need, but it'll also strengthen our families by creating an unbreakable connection, because above all else, we need more allies if we're going to survive."

I don't tell her about how my youngest brother, Angelo, is currently languishing in prison because someone within our organization ratted him out, or about the assassinations and murder attempts on high-ranking members of our Famiglia. There's no outright war, but my family's power has never been so threatened before, and my father believes this alliance is one way to show strength in the face of adversity.

She sits back, crosses her legs, and takes another drink. "I guess it doesn't matter that I don't want anything to do with you, right? Because if I don't do this, my family will suffer."

"And so will mine," I tell her. "If I had my way, I wouldn't be here right now either. We're in the same position, baby."

"Don't call me baby." She closes her eyes. "Fuck. Now I see why Renzo didn't tell me all that. He wants me to make my own decision, and that would've been one fat guilt trip kick straight to my skull."

"You have a good brother, but he's too soft on you. The fact is, we're fucked, baby. You and I are stuck together, because if we don't do this, both our lives will be even worse."

"I'm not sure how that's even possible." She swirls her glass and slams it down on the table. "There has to be another way. Someone else."

"You want to force some other Rossi girl into marriage in your place?" I run a thumb across my mouth and narrow my eyes. "I didn't know you were so fucking selfish."

"Oh, fuck you," she says and stands up, shoving the chair back. She's seething mad again, but she knows I'm right, and it's another reason I'm going through with this—because if I don't, then one of my brothers will have to take my place, and that wouldn't be fair to them.

They'll have their turns. I'm second oldest, and it's my turn to do my duty to the Famiglia, but even my little sisters will be asked to make this impossible decision one day in the future, and I have no doubt that they will all do what has to be done.

Because the family is greater than any one of us.

"Go ahead and confirm my story with your brother," I tell her as she starts to storm away. "Hate me all you want, baby, but I'm not lying."

She stops a few feet away, hands curl into fists, and whirls around to pin me with a stare that might kill a lesser man. She points one finger in my direction, and I'm impressed that it's not shaking.

"I don't want anything to do with you, Davide Bianco, or your fucking family. If I find out that you lied to me tonight, I'm walking. Do you understand? If you ever hold something back from me again, I'll stab a fork in your eye. Do you hear me?"

I lean back in my chair and drape an arm over the back. "Don't worry. Now that you're mine, I'll give you anything you want. Except your panties back."

Her cheeks turn crimson and her mouth works through a litany of curses, and she finally spins around and storms off. I watch her go, my heart racing a quick patter in my chest, and I can't remember the last time I felt like this. I've burned buildings and killed powerful men, I've slept with plenty of beautiful women and ascended to the heights of society, but I've never wanted someone the way I want Stefania Rossi in this moment.

"That seemed to go great," Bruno says once she's gone. He slumps down into her chair.

Emilio lingers near the railing. "That girl hates your guts."

"I'll grow on her." I stand up, and my men stand with me. "That's enough for tonight. Let's get the fuck out of here."

Because now that I've spoken with my wife-to-be, there's no reason to make myself suffer in this place anymore.