2. Aria

Chapter 2

Aria

"This is for the best, Aria. No one will find out your true identity, and we will be aligned with a strong family." Dominique, my Godfather, is trying to be kind. It isn't an ideal situation to marry a playboy from a mafia family, but we need to do what we need to do in order to survive.

"I know. I just can't believe it's come to this after everything my family has been through." I reach over and take his hand. "I'm grateful that you've been so caring and done what's in my best interests. I just wish I had the resources..."

"We don't, though, and this is the next best option." he squeezes my hand. "They can never know about your past or your family. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Dom. I understand." I turn and stare out the window. "Is he kind?"

"Marco? I don't know him that well. I know he's ruthless when it comes to business, but I also know his family, and they're a good family together. His father has treated his wife very well over the years."

"Let's hope Marco learned to do the same," I say quietly.

We pull up to a beautiful mansion, and I see a man standing out front. "Is that Marco?"

"That's Franco, his younger brother."

Once the car stops, Franco walks down to the door and opens it. For a moment, time freezes as our eyes meet. His eyes seem almost black; they are so dark. It scares me, but it intrigues me at the same time.

"Miss Aria Dilio, welcome. I am Franco Morelli, Marco's younger brother." He holds his hand out for me, and I take it, feeling warmth spread where our skin touches.

I step out of the car, and we stand there for a moment, simply looking at each other before I gather myself. "Thank you, Mr Morelli."

"Please, call me Franco." He smiles, and I feel my world melt away. No. I cannot feel this way. I am betrothed to Marco.

We both turn as there are footsteps behind Franco, and a similar-looking, slightly older man smiles. "Aria, your beauty is even greater than the rumors."

I blush and offer my hand. He takes it and kisses it. "Marco Morelli. I am so pleased we can finally meet."

"I am also pleased, thank you."

"Franco will take you to your guest room. We're a traditional family, so we won't share a bed until the night of our wedding." Marco kisses my fingers again. "Something I most look forward to. "

I blush again and nod. "Indeed. I would very much like to freshen up and relax a little. It was a long drive here."

"Of course, and I need to catch up with Dominique. Franco, show Aria to her room."

Franco gestures ahead of him. "This way."

We walk side by side into the beautiful mansion. Fresh flowers appear everywhere I turn, brightly colored arrangements, and the smell of nectar is in the air. I look around. The white marble is beautiful, and the walls are off-white. It makes everything look spacious. Franco motions to the hallway to the right. "You'll be staying in my wing until you're married."

"Oh," I say softly. "Okay. My things..."

"The servants will bring them," he says. "This way."

He has a long stride, and I have to walk quickly to keep up. I'm barely able to take in anything else as he leads me into another huge space. We go up a flight of stairs, and he takes me to the right. We walk up to a set of double doors, and he turns to me. "My room is just over there," he motions to some doors we just passed. "So if you need anything, you can just knock or ask a servant who's nearby."

"Servants... your family must be doing extremely well," I say, with a slight hint of condescension.

"It's a big place, it needs a staff." He turns and opens the double doors. It's a bright room with pastel colors. I step inside. To the left is a four-poster bed, and to the right is a door leading to the en-suite bathroom and, from what I can see, a walk-in closet .

I look around and nod. "This will do."

"Of course, Your Royal Highness." Franco says, "Perhaps later I can give you a tour of the other parts of the house."

"I'm sure I can find my way around," I say, looking at him.

"I certainly hope you find your way to my bedroom," he says quietly with a cheeky grin.

I frown. "I am marrying your brother."

"You were supposed to marry me," he responds. "My brother merely took you from me."

"I am not a possession to be passed around," I say angrily. "Ten minutes here, and I already know which brother is the jerk."

"Well, at least I'm not pompous," he says. "What do you think this is? A castle where you're royalty."

"I am royalty if I marry the head of a family," I snap.

He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "That's all you care about... status. I'm glad Marco took you off my hands."

"I'm glad too," I turn around as the servants come in, and I walk to the balcony. I look down and see guards patrolling the gardens. "What? Are you afraid I'm going to try to run away?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," he grumbles. "But they're actually there for your own protection."

I'm about to respond when I turn around and see Marco walking towards us. "As is he," he says. "Franco, that is. He's to be your personal bodyguard."

"I really don't think that's necessary," I say quietly. "Franco is obviously important to the family."

"As are you," Marco says with a grin. "Besides, I'm punishing him at the moment for losing a little wager with me."

I frown. I'm not someone's punishment. I bite my tongue, though and don't say anything as the servants bring my bags into the room.

"I'll leave you in Franco's capable hands. As soon as you're ready, we'll start planning the wedding." Marco takes my hand and brings it to his lips to kiss them. I nod and look at Franco.

"Do you have to stay with me in my room?"

"You can change in the bathroom," he says moodily. He crosses to the small table and chairs just by the balcony and sits down.

I choose to ignore him. Instead, I start to unpack my things into the walk-in closet. I don't know how long I will be in this room, but I might as well make it homely. I have several suitcases of clothes that I unpack, and then I move on to my bathroom essentials. After I'm done, I feel quite sweaty. I glance at Franco sitting on the balcony, scrolling through his phone.

"I'm going to shower," I declare. "Don't come into the bathroom."

"Would if I wanted to princess," he says without feeling.

I glare at him. "My name is Aria. Not princess."

"Whatever," he says, looking at me. "I won't disturb your precious shower. Hurry up, though, because it's lunchtime, and I'm sure my parents want to meet you. "

I suddenly feel quite nervous. I jump in the shower and wash up, washing my hair as well. I style it while I dry my hair, and then I apply some light makeup. I change into smart pants and a cute blouse. All in all, it probably takes me half an hour to get ready. When I'm done, I find Franco exactly where I left him.

"I'm ready," I say loudly.

He stands up and walks up to me. He sniffs the air, but he doesn't pull a face.

"Do you like the perfume I'm wearing?"

"Why do you care?" he says, frowning.

"Look, we clearly got off on the wrong foot," I say. "Can we just start again?"

"I don't do second chances," he says. "Come on. I'm starving."

I frown and follow him, upset that I'm already making a bad impression.

We walk down back to the first entrance hall and through another hallway, out some French double doors onto a deck where there is a huge spread of food waiting for us. Marco is already there with what must be his father and mother.

"We're here," Franco announces, going to sit next to Marco. I stand with my hands clasped in front of me.

"Ah, this must be my future daughter-in-law." Marco's father says. "I am Jean-Luca, and this is my wife Sofia."

I move forward as he takes my hands in his. "You must be Aria. You are more beautiful than Dominique told us. "

I smile shyly. "Thank you for your kindness and for accepting the marriage proposal. It is most appreciated."

"Family is everything to us, Aria. That is the first thing you must learn. Never betray this family, and you will live a beautiful life."

Sofia gets up and comes to me, hugging me. "Giulia, my daughter, is out, but she will be so happy to meet you when she's back."

"I'm excited to meet her, too," I say. "How should I address you both?"

"Well, you will call me Papa and Sofia Mama," Jean-Luca says. "We are family now. Formalities fall away."

Franco clears his throat. "Can we eat? I haven't had anything to eat yet, and I'm starving."

"Maybe if you and your brother didn't drink whiskey on empty stomachs, you wouldn't feel so rough," Sofia scolds him.

I love her already.

Franco looks at me and smirks. "I'm sure your new princess is hungry, too."

"I'm famished, and I can't wait to learn how to manage such a vast home. You must be exhausted, Mama."

"It isn't easy," Sofia gestures for me to sit beside her, opposite Marco and Franco, "But having staff on hand makes it easier. It's all about managing them."

Jean-Luca dishes up his breakfast, then Marco and Franco, then Sofia and I. We start to eat, and I sit quietly and simply listen to Jean-Luca and Marco discuss work. They don't seem to be shy about discussing it in front of me, which is very telling. Franco, on the other hand, is eying me out suspiciously.

I look directly at him, and our eyes lock on each other. He smirks, and I wonder what he's thinking when his gaze falls to my breasts. I frown and shift in my seat. He's enjoying making me uncomfortable. I block his view while I eat, turning slightly.

He chuckles softly, and I know the rest of his family doesn't notice. I finish my food. It's delicious—a rich, creamy pasta alfredo with some garlic bread and a glass of wine.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm really tired. I'm going to go sit in the sun and cross-stitch."

"Isn't that for old women?" Franco asks.

"Nonsense, Franco," Sofia says. "It's very fashionable these days. I might take it up myself again."

"It would be lovely to sit with you," I smile. I stand up and walk back toward the house. I hear a chair scraping and turn to see Franco following me.

"Personal bodyguard, remember?" he asks. He's brought his bowl and fork with him and eats while we walk back to our wing. He walks slightly ahead of me and finishes eating just before we reach my room.

"So I get no peace and quiet?" I ask.

"Not until the wedding day," He says, setting the bowl down on the side table outside the room. "I'm not happy about it either."

I go to my walk-in closet and get out the cross-stitch I'm busy with, along with everything I need. I go to the balcony and sit down in the sun. "Well, don't expect me to talk to you."

"Thank God." He takes out his phone and scrolls through it.

I work on my cross stitch quietly, enjoying the silence, when his phone rings, and he takes the call. He talks loudly in Italian, a language I never did quite get the hang of, and his loud voice is so disruptive that I give him a filthy look. He smirks at me and shakes his head. I hear him say my name, and I frown.

What an immature boy. I cannot believe I'm stuck with him until my wedding day.

*