Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

NICO

Age Fourteen

I was ready for death.

That's a morbid thing for a fourteen-year-old kid to think. But I mean it wholeheartedly. There's only so much the world can throw at you before you want to give up. These days felt empty, dark. No matter how much I tried to fight, nothing ever worked out. There was no light in my world.

It's hopeless.

I ran away from the shelter a year ago, after I was almost assaulted by one of the directors. Since then, I've been living on the streets. It was hard at the start. But then I met Juan. He's the one that helped me. Although I'm not sure if help is the right word, considering he introduced me to a life of crime.

It's a life I should have never been exposed to. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that until a couple of years ago, I was a normal kid. I had parents, I went to school, hell I even had friends, albeit dumb ones that I barely liked. I was normal. And now I'm here, crouching down and hiding from a group of men as they search for me, intent on killing me.

I never should have done that job for Powell. It was a bad idea. Juan said so too. But he promised me enough money for three days of food. It was na?ve of me to believe him. Men like Powell have no honor. I still couldn't believe it when he snatched the files from my hands and then kicked me out. I tried to fight, and one of his goons punched me in the face. He was bigger and stronger than me.

Fighting back was hopeless. I hate that word: hopeless. It's a substitute for the word weak. I don't want to be weak anymore. But I also can't keep living like this. I should have never been in this position.

My mother used to tell me that I was made for greater things. I'm not going to find those things while hiding in a ditch or an abandoned parking lot.

The sound of noises draws me out of my thoughts. Surprisingly, I don't shake as I hear a man call for people to search the area. I'm smart enough to know when the jig is up. I can accept that I messed up. It's very freeing, that acceptance. Death is freeing, too.

A few minutes later, I'm dragged out of my hiding spot. They take me to him, the Don, and force me to get on my knees. The Don starts to speak to me, questioning my motives. Although I'm not sure why he's asking me, considering he already knows everything.

They try to get me to answer him, to stop looking him in the eye. But I remain steadfast. I don't cower. I don't say a word.

My father always said I was tactically stubborn. Bullheaded when it suits me. No one makes me do anything I don't want to. Not even the scary Don.

I can tell he's impressed by that. And he makes that clear when he makes me an offer. To join him, work for him. For just a moment, I'm intrigued. But I've gotten front-row seats to this rodeo before. The mafia is dangerous. It is filled with people who wouldn't hesitate to betray one another. The Don's probably not any different.

He's probably another man without honor, making promises he can't keep. When I refuse his offer, he simply sighs before asking them to kill me.

My heart pounds with expectation. The Don starts to leave. Maybe there really will be freedom in death for me. I've lost everything that mattered to me. I don't even feel that sad about the thought of dying right here in the parking lot.

"No," a small voice whispers, halting him.

My head snaps in the direction of the voice, and I see her for the first time. I wonder how I missed her in the first place. She has bows in her brown hair and rosy cheeks. She's wearing a blue dress and has big, doe-like brown eyes. They're really pretty.

I wonder at her protest and then grow a little surprised when she proceeds to beg for my life. My life. She doesn't even know me.

The Don watches his daughter appraisingly for a couple of seconds. My gaze doesn't shift away from her. Finally, he makes a decision, telling his men to let me go. It's amusing that I was saved from an almost certain death by a little girl with bows in her hair.

What's even more amusing is her father tasking her with the responsibility of watching over me. I'm her responsibility now? Why do I have a feeling she's going to come to regret that?

Over the next couple of weeks, she visits me every day; in the morning and in the evening. Always with enough food for me to eat. She comes alone, a fact that I find odd, considering she's the Don's daughter. A princess. I know there are guards at the door, but aren't they worried I'll hurt her?

She's brave for coming at all. She's brave for trying to talk to me. Even now, she's prattling on about her friends at school. I couldn't care less about her perfect life. But it's amusing to hear about her troubles. They're so unbelievably different from mine.

"My friends made me so mad today," she's telling me in that soft, confident voice. "Cat and Lila walked into lunch together without Faith. They're not supposed to do that. There are rules."

Rules created by her. A fact that she stressed to me a couple of days ago. Something I've come to learn about the princess is that she's incredibly bossy. I guess that comes with being in her position. Said position being that she's been spoiled rotten by her father. I doubt anyone has ever told her no before.

It's heavily influenced her personality. So much so that I'm sure she goes to bed at night plotting world domination. She truly believes she can do anything. And she has the means to get whatever it is she wants. I wonder what it would be like, to live like that.

To have that degree of control.

"Anyway, good night," the princess says, rising from the chair she placed in front of my cell door. "Let me know if you need anything. Or just write it down since it's clear you have no interest in speaking. I don't mind."

I don't say a word in reply. At this point, I'm only staying quiet in order to see how long it'll take before she breaks the act. I want to see her crack. Although I know she probably won't. Because despite her bossiness and her plans for world domination, she also has a kind heart. It's annoying.

The only reason she made the rule of walking into the cafeteria in threes was because she wanted to make sure all the girls in her class were friends with each other. Faith was apparently being left out, so she paired her with the two other girls.

Despite herself and the world she was born in, Aurora Maranzano is surprisingly pure. I hate that. It makes me angry.

Scratch that; it makes me want to ruin it. Ruin her.

In the end, though, I only end up ruining myself. Because I grow to genuinely like her. I start to want to protect her from every evil in the world.

I don't take into account that evil also includes myself.

Present Day

In our world, marriages are strategic alliances. Arranged in order to earn more power or to keep the power we already have. In the past, the Don would have to give his stamp of approval when it came to the marriages of made men. These days a simple courtesy visit to inform him of the match is enough.

But the Don is dead. Which is fortunate, because I know for a fact Valerio would have killed me before allowing me to marry his daughter.

Aurora sits across from me in the booth, her expression pensive. She called me first this time. Asked for a meeting. She probably didn't want me showing up in front of her apartment again.

I watch as she twirls the Boba tea in her hand thoughtfully, her gaze fixed on a spot on the table. She's been doing her very best not to look me in the eye since I walked in here. It's almost like she's trying to delay the inevitable. Like a perfect gentleman, I've stayed silent, waiting for her to get on with it.

Finally, she sighs softly, leaning down to sip from the straw in her drink. Her brown hair falls forward, blanketing her face for a couple of seconds. After a long sip, she looks up, her gaze connecting with mine. Something stutters in my chest.

"I'll do it," she states.

Three words, said with all the enthusiasm of a lamb being led to slaughter. I smirk.

"Do what exactly, sweetheart?"

"I'll marry you," she says through gritted teeth. "But on one condition."

Of course. No way Aurora Maranzano does something against her will without laying down rules of her own. I'm taking away her control, but I know she'll still find a way to exert some semblance of it.

"Which is?"

"The first is that I'm not actually going to marry you."

My brows furrow in confusion. "You've lost me. I'm going to need you to explain that, mi vida ."

"What I'm trying to say is that there's no way I'm legally binding myself in holy matrimony to you, dickhead. So you're going to have to figure out how to work your way around that little problem. I'll marry you. Just not legally," she clarifies.

Interesting. I knew she'd find a way to make this beneficial for her. I just didn't expect this.

"You want a fake marriage."

"Exactly. You're still as smart as I remember. Good." she nods. "It's really very simple, Nico. You want to be Don. But you don't have a legitimate claim, which is where I come in. They want to see you married to a Maranzano. We'll give them that. But it won't be real."

I lean back in my seat, slightly impressed that she came up with a way out of this in twenty-four hours.

"Marrying me scares you that much, huh, sweetheart?" I ask.

Her eyes are fierce as they meet mine. "It doesn't scare me. It's the thought of forever with you that makes me physically ill."

"We could always get divorced, sweetheart. It doesn't have to be forever," I point out.

"True, but I'd rather not tie myself to you in any way. Plus, this is easier. Also, I want one more thing," she says.

"Of course you do," I sigh. "What is it?"

"I want a clean break. I want what Valerio promised us ten years ago. After I do this, no one from the outfit will approach us ever again. We won't be royalty anymore. I want us erased from the minds of every single one of them. Got it?"

It's been a long time since anyone has given me an order with the words, "got it" attached at the end.

"Anything else?" I ask after a moment.

"Yes."

I don't point out that she mentioned in the beginning that she only had one condition. I let out a deep breath as she lists out her other requests. Well, they are more like ground rules, according to her.

"With regards to intimacy, I'll only accept kisses on the cheek in public. And then maybe one on the lips on our wedding day. I'm assuming you'll want us to get fake married in front of the entire outfit. When the priest says you may kiss the bride, you will do so. Just a light peck, nothing too dramatic," she explains, tone completely serious. "You're not allowed to kiss me in private or when no one else is there. And, of course, there will be no intimacy in the bedroom. I am not having sex with you."

My lips tilt up at the sides. "Who said anything about sex?"

"I know you, Nico. You'd sleep with me if you had the chance."

"Maybe," I agree.

The woman is fucking gorgeous, and she knows it. I might want to choke the fuck out of her ninety percent of the time. But I'd also like to see what she looks like naked. It fucking annoys me, the fact that she has that effect on me. And that she knows it.

"Don't look so self-righteous, sweetheart," I say with an eyeroll. "You'd sleep with you given the chance, too."

We already came close to sleeping together once. Who's to say it won't happen again? Eight years of a slow-burning tension from the moment we met. It all came to a head one night when I was twenty years old. Aurora was eighteen.

It was that same night that everything changed. She started hating me the next day. And then she disappeared.

"Doubtful. I'm not a masochist," she states, wrinkling her nose. "Moving on. There has to be a time clause. I suggest we keep this ruse up for four months. That should be enough time for you to settle into your position. And once the four months are up, I'll simply disappear. Any objection to that?"

I shake my head. Although my chest does burn at the thought of her disappearing again.

"Good. Now let's talk about relationships outside our fake marriage. I don't care who you're dating, but you can't flaunt a mistress in front of the outfit."

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm not dating anybody."

"Really? What about Shay? I thought for sure you'd be with her forever."

"You sounded jealous twelve years ago when you found out about her, Aurora. And you sound jealous now," I point out.

She glares at me. "I am not jealous."

"There's no need to be. Shay died seven years ago," I say flatly.

Aurora gasps, her eyes widening. "What? What the hell happened?"

"A made man with a grudge. He killed her to get to me. I made sure he suffered for it."

I don't feel guilty as I say the words. I buried all the feelings of guilt a long time ago.

She tilts her head to the side, studying me. "You sound unaffected, but I know you're really not."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Can we move on to your stupid list?"

"My list isn't stupid," she murmurs. "I'm done with my requests. Do you have anything to add?"

"What about the fucker you're seeing?" I ask.

"Who?"

"The personal trainer, Aurora. Don't play dumb."

Her eyes narrow. "How long have you been watching me for?"

Over the past few years, I've checked in from time to time. In the past two months though, I've had at least one man tailing her movements around the clock. Which is how I know about the personal trainer.

"It doesn't matter. What do you plan to do about it?" I ask her. "I could always get rid of him for you. A bullet in the heart should do it."

"You won't hurt him," she orders.

I fix her with a hard gaze. "Try me."

"Nico, don't. I already ended things with him, anyway. So just let it go."

"Say please," I tell her.

"What?"

"You heard me, sweetheart. Say please, and I won't kill him."

"I'm not going to beg you not to commit murder," she says stubbornly.

"That's too bad, then. You must not value his life very much."

Her jaw clenches. It takes a few moments, but she finally says the words.

"Please, don't kill him."

It sounds like she's chewing hot coals, but at least she gets it out.

"That's good, sweetheart. That's great practice for the future."

"What the fuck are you talking about now?"

I clasp my hands as I look straight into her eyes.

"I sat down here as you made all your little requests. I agree with every single one of them. We'll have a fake wedding like you said. But despite that, I need you to understand something, sweetheart. By agreeing to marry me, you're signing yourself away to me for four months. You'll be my wife, and I expect you to act like it. In the eyes of the outfit, we're in love and ready to be married. And when we do so, I'll be Don. And once I'm Don, you won't disrespect me ever again. Got it ?" I ask mockingly.

She glares at me, rage filling her brown eyes.

"I hate you."

"You know it doesn't matter how many times you say that, sweetheart. I never grow tired of hearing it."

Probably because it means she still feels something from me. I'll take hate if that's what she has to offer.

"One last thing," I tell her. "You and I are going to the compound tomorrow to announce our engagement. I expect you to be moved in by the end of the week."

She jerks in surprise. "Move in?"

I arch an eyebrow. "Yes. I expect you to move in with me, Aurora. I'm surprised it didn't come up despite your extensive list."

"Why can't we move into my house?" she protests.

I chuckle lightly. "That's a joke, right?"

She shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I can't just up and move out of my apartment. Do you know how long it took before I got off the waiting list to live in that place?"

It's odd hearing Aurora Maranzano speak like she's some kind of commoner.

"What do you mean by waiting list? Your father would have bought you that entire building if you asked for it."

"What father? I didn't have one then, and I certainly don't have one now," she says dryly.

"Right. I don't care about your apartment, Aurora. You and I are moving into the compound. It's non-negotiable."

"You can't do that. I have a life outside the outfit now. I have work. I have friends."

"You have one friend," I correct. "Sabrina Miller. And from what I've been able to gather, she has no idea who you really are. If I were you, I'd tell her the truth. It might be hard to find a believable enough excuse for why you're suddenly moving out and getting married."

Her expression flickers for a second, and I catch doubt and worry swirling beneath it. She covers it up, her hand tightening around the cup in her hand. She doesn't argue with me on that, which means she's been thinking about it. Good.

"With regards to your company, I want to believe by now it's already self-sufficient enough that you can take some time off."

"Four months is a long time," she states.

"Then work from home. I'll even let you make an appearance once in a while."

"You'll let me?" she grits out.

"Yes. Like I told you, Aurora. You're mine now," I say, getting to my feet. "I'll wire some money into your account. Buy yourself a ring. We'll be seeing your godfather tomorrow evening. Don't forget to wear a pretty dress."

She's looking at me incredulously. And for the first time, I see fear flicker in her brown eyes. I hate how it fills me with satisfaction.