Chapter 9 MICELI

Róise does her best to answer monosyllabically as both Severu and Uncle Sal subtly grill her. But I want more and I push for it.

She looks at me with pure dislike after I ask her to elaborate on something she said again.

"My plan was to be an actor. Now it's to get my degree and try not to kill the man I'm supposed to marry."

Uncle Sal and Brogan make matching sounds of disapproval. Sev looks amused, damn him. But I'm tempted to laugh too.

"I never realized Irish mob princesses were so bloodthirsty."

"I'm not a princess and I'm only half Irish."

Her uncle pounds the sofa arm. "You're a Shaughnessy. You're Irish."

This is an argument they've had before.

"Organized crime families are as close to royalty as you get in America." Severu stands. "Miceli, a word?"

"No need. I'm ready to sign the contracts now."

He nods, showing me the respect of knowing my own mind. "Let's move to the table, gentlemen. Are you ready to make this official, Róise?"

Her emerald eyes widen in shock, but she nods. "I don't have much choice, do I?"

Severu shrugs. He can be a ruthless son of a bitch and he wants the blood alliance with the Irish.

He's not giving Róise an out.

If I was a better man, I would suggest another way of guaranteeing the alliance, or at least waiting to formalize it .

I don't.

This is about keeping la famiglia strong and safe. And if I have to have the same woman in my bed for the rest of my life, it might as well be one I want as much as I do Róise.

Even if she is too young and irreverent for an underboss's wife.

Everyone sits down when we reach the table. Again, I make sure Róise is beside me, with no other man on her other side.

She gives me a disgruntled frown. "You're clingy for a leader in a criminal organization."

Big Sal finally allows the humor that has been building in him since Róise opened her mouth the first time to burst out in a big guffaw.

She thinks he doesn't like her, but he's been using his disapproving face to hide his mirth for the last hour. Will he be as amused if our cousin Salvatore marries a woman with so much sass?

Róise is staring at Big Sal like she's never seen him before. "Is he alright?"

"Fine."

"But he's laughing."

"At you," her uncle grumbles.

"At your niece's sass," Big Sal corrects. "She'll be a good match for Miceli."

"You think I'm a good match for him ?" Róise demands, sounding disappointed. "But—"

My uncle interrupts her. "It takes a strong woman to stand beside a Cosa Nostra underboss."

"But I think it's stupid for women to serve men like they're the superior species."

"Humans are all the same species and lucky you, my nephews see things the same way."

"You do?" Róise asks me suspiciously.

"I think you'll find the Genovese mafia a little more progressive than the Irish," my brother answers for me.

"It's not progressive to let women into your ranks, it's foolish." Brogan shakes his head. "But you run your mob your way, I'll run mine."

"You allow women to be made ?" she asks, incredulous.

"Don't tell me you think women can't be just as ruthless as men?" I mock.

"Of course they can, but I'm shocked you believe it too."

"My daughter is my son's underboss," Big Sal says proudly. "She's fierce."

"Wow. I want to meet her."

"You'll get to meet Nerissa and the rest of the family at your birthday party," Sev says .

"My birthday party?" She looks at her uncle, clearly confused.

Brogan pats his pockets, finds a cigar and pulls it out. "Miceli will be hosting your 21 st birthday."

The mob boss chews on one end of his cigar but doesn't light it. Sev does not allow smoking in his office, or any other part of the Oscuro building.

"What? No, we're going to—"

"You know birthdays and holidays have to be sacrificed sometimes."

"For the good of the mob." Róise's tone reveals what she thinks of that truth.

And it's not good.

Brogan is unfazed.

"What were you planning to do for your birthday?" I ask. Maybe it can be incorporated into the plans.

But she shakes her head, clearly unwilling to share.

Róise insists on reading every line of the prenup agreement before she's willing to sign it. Brogan blusters, but I push the document toward her and ask her uncle a question about a weapons shipment we are getting from him.

It's small arms and ammunition, not like the large weapon purchase I was in Portland to negotiate with the Hades Brotherhood. The first rocket launcher they sold us came in handy down in Colombia.

After reading the first couple of pages, Róise looks up. "Why are we signing this when divorce is not an option?"

"Once we have a child together, the alliance between our families is set."

"So we can divorce after that?" she asks a little too eagerly.

"Under certain circumstances." The De Lucas don't divorce, but neither am I going to kill my wife if we find ourselves egregiously incompatible.

She grabs the prenup and starts to read again.

Putting her finger down to hold her place on the page, she looks up. "You retain full custody of our child, or children?"

"Only if we divorce."

"Duh." She bites her lip and looks at her uncle furtively.

He's busy talking to Big Sal.

Róise's shoulders relax. "If you're too much of a manwhore for me to stay married to you, I'm not giving you custody of my child."

"Read the next page." It spells out what happens if either of us is unfaithful.

After I kill the man who touches her (which is not spelled out in the prenup, but should be obvious), the divorce terms will not only grant me full custody, but discretion about visitation. And her settlement goes from ten million to zero.

If I cheat, which I won't; a De Luca's word is binding. But if I did, I would have to share custody equally with her .

Since there is no settlement for me in the event of divorce, that punitive result does not apply.

"You're not that progressive after all." Her frown judges me and finds me wanting. "You only have to give me shared custody, but I lose all access to my child."

"I won't cheat."

"Neither will I."

"Good." Then no one has to die. "The point is moot."

She grumbles something about still living in the last century and goes back to reading. When she's done, she pushes the stack of papers back toward me.

"Do you want to change anything?" I ask.

"Of course not," Brogan says, proving he was paying attention even while talking to my uncle. "I already approved all the clauses."

Róise frowns at her uncle and then turns that disgruntled look on me. "Are you willing to change the custody clauses?"

"No."

"Then no."

"Are you sure?" Sev butts in. "You could get another ten mil out of him easily in your settlement."

"The money doesn't matter."

"Says a woman who has never had to go without it," Brogan says patronizingly.

"Every man in here inherited his wealth." Her eyes flash with anger. "None of you has gone without either."

Brogan puts his hands up as if surrendering. "Don't be getting angry, lass. Na, and we haven't gone without but when I was twenty, I was working the family business, not taking classes teaching me how to play make believe."

If the mob boss wants to calm his niece down, he's going about it ass-backwards.

"And I'm signing away my life for the family business, despite wanting nothing to do with it," Róise points out, scorn vibrating from every pore. "That prenup is nothing more than a seedy offer of ten million dollars for my child."

"Against my advice, Miceli is offering an out that most women in our world don't get," Big Sal informs her. "Most prenups in our world are written to discourage filing for divorce by withholding any financial support."

"For the wife. And if the mafia man divorces her? There's no punitive clause for him, is there." Róise shakes her head. "Typical men. I'm not surprised a Cosa Nostra underboss puts such a negligible value on his child. "

The look of derision she levels at me exponentially outdoes the one she gave her uncle. "Miceli could triple the settlement without putting a dent in the public account he keeps for the IRS, but that's not the point, is it?"

Stung at the implied criticism of my provision for her if we should separate, I slash through the ten million and write one-hundred-million before initialing it.

"Unless you're changing the custody clause, I'm not impressed." Her glare stays fixed on my face.

"One hundred million doesn't earn even a smile?"

Not a flicker of surprise, much less appreciation lights her green gaze. "No. Money is currency. Children are life and you're not buying mine."

She can't know it, but every word out of her mouth shows how well Róise will fit in with my family.

The mafia is important. They are family as well as business, but the De Lucas come before all others.

I am not taking on a twenty-year old virtual stranger for the profits we will get from joint ventures with the Shaughnessy mob; I am marrying Róise because this blood alliance is another wall of protection around my family.