Home > Married to the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family)

Married to the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family)
Author: C.M. Steele



Three years earlier


The vehicle pulls off the expressway as we head toward O’Hare International Airport, but I can’t shake the overwhelming, raw emotion that flows through me. I’ve just gotten my first up-close look at Domani Bianchi. Granted, he never saw my face the entire time his father and mine spoke. I stare out the window as if somehow I’ll still be able to see his brooding handsome face again. It was twenty minutes ago, and I can’t stop thinking of him.

“Aria, are you well?” I dart my eyes to my father, wondering if he knows what’s going through my head right now. I sure as hell hope not, but the man doesn’t give anything away.

I calmly take a breath and say, “Yes, Papa. I’m fine.”

“Your face is flush. Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am. I’ve never been to Ireland. I think I’m getting anxious, nervous or something.”

“Couldn’t have anything to do with running into Domani Bianchi? He’s not going to hurt you no matter how dark his reputation is.” That perceptive man.

Huffing and fixing the hem of my skirt, I blurt out in a rush, “I didn’t actually see him. Anyway. How long until we’re there? I want to take a nap.” My denial is a little too blatantly obvious, but I hope he drops the subject. Talking about boys with my dad isn’t something I care for and I’m sure neither does he, although Domani Bianchi’s anything but a boy.

“It’s a long flight, so just relax. We’ll be boarding soon.”

“I can’t believe Gloria’s getting married,” my mother says, tearing up.

“I told you we shouldn’t have let her go abroad,” my father snarls at my mother, handing her his handkerchief. My sister was supposed to take a semester in England and somehow ended up in Ireland where she met Cormack Delaney.

They’re getting married in two days because the man is insanely determined and doesn’t care if she ever comes back to Chicago. My father and him had a very long and loud discussion. All things said and done, they’re getting married, and we at least get to see it.

We board the plane and I take a nice built small bed and go to sleep. All the while dreams of Domani keep me from wanting to wake up.


I can’t wait to get out of here. I thought when we flew over the Emerald Isle that I’d found paradise, but then Peter Delaney appeared out of thin air, sending chills up and down my skin. His eyes linger over me when he believes no one is looking, but I can feel them as if I rushed into a spider’s web. The creepy feeling has made my brief stay a nightmare.

“It’s time to get ready for the wedding,” my mother says, shaking me out of my terrible thoughts. Unfortunately, Peter’s standing up at the wedding and we’re walking together. His wife is here as well, a pretty lady who appears kind but there’s something behind her eyes that is unsettling. Does she fear her husband? Will Cormack be that way with Gloria?

No. I had my answer the second I met my future brother-in-law. He’s a great guy and wants to worship my sister to the point that I’m a tad bit jealous. I’d hadn’t given marriage that kind of thought until we spotted Domani. Now, it’s all my brain can think of. I blame it on the wedding and all the lovey-dovey emotions flying through the air.

It’s a little sad because Cormack’s father just died a day before Gloria met her fiancé. Still, the day is perfect for the lovely couple. I’ll bite down on my own bile and celebrate my sister’s happiness and avoid Peter as much as I can.

“It’s time, lasses,” Peter utters, rapping his knuckles on the door.

“We’re ready.” I spin around and see my sister in her gorgeous gown, floored by her beauty. My sister is breathtaking and I’m sure Cormack’s going to lose it when he sees her perfection.

“Excuse me,” I hear my father say behind the door. “I’m coming in.” My dad steps into the room, looking handsome as ever in his tux, and his mouth falls open as he stares at Gloria.

“Gloria, you look like an angel.”

“Thank you, Papa.” He hugs her tightly until she lets out a grunt. I snap a picture on my phone of my sister as she smiles at my dad because this is a painting worthy image.

We leave Gloria’s dressing room inside a large Catholic Church only to see Peter waiting for us.

“You should be standing by your brother right now,” my father informs Peter.

With a slight frown, he does just that, allowing me a sigh of relief. I hope after today, it’s the last I see of Peter Delaney.



A year later…


The meeting’s off to a shitty start. I’m ready to shoot the Denali head for questioning my status at the table, but I will not disrespect our host, Don Anthony Grasso, the head of the Grasso Family. I’m representing the Bianchi family on behalf of my father who is, at present, celebrating his anniversary with my mother. Family always comes first to him and it’s something he’s passed along to his boys.

“We need to calm down and talk territories,” Don Grasso says. I’m ready to go to war, but that’s not in the best interest of anyone at the moment. Keeping my eyes on Denali, I don’t trust that fucker. If he crosses me, I’ll treat him to a trip to hell after taking his empire.

“Nothing should fucking change,” Diamanté family head exclaims, pounding his fist. His family is losing more and more business and he doesn’t want to risk losing it all.

“Listen. We’re trying to keep the fucking peace here, gentlemen. I’m talking about the latest infringement we’ve had in the Grasso and Bianchi areas by both of you.”

“I told you mine was accidental.” It had been. A stupid dealer looking to make a big score came to our side and started slanging some crack and meth. Both the Grasso and Bianchi families don’t deal in drugs because it makes people less willing to pay us our money on time. We tend to work on the books. You want to gamble or need a loan we operate that way. I’ve only returned from a summer in Italy, learning my roots when my father mentioned retiring. For the past month, I’ve been learning, so today is my first big meeting with these men. I have to remain strong and yet levelheaded and not the young punk they think I am.

“And ours, the fucking city changed zoning, forcing a block further north.”

“Again, we just want to come to an agreement. Keep the fucking dope on your side of the street. Taking cuts isn’t something any of us want.”

A knock at the door sends Don Grasso’s hand up to silence us. “Come in.”

A waitstaff comes in to serve us some coffee. The door’s ajar as they go around the table, serving us. I don’t trust open doors like that, so I watch for any blitz move. I’ve learned a lot from our homeland counterparts. I’m just about to tell the lady to stop pouring me coffee when something catches my attention out the corner of my eye.

Not a something, but rather, a someone.

She freezes as our eyes meet. I wonder if she’s curious or if she is interested. Who the hell is she? Did Don Grasso intentionally sneak in honey traps, or is she a part of the household staff? I look at her clothes and know it’s not the case at all. The raven-haired beauty is in a skin-tight black cocktail dress that reveals a little too much leg for all these men for my liking. Her long black hair lays over her shoulder, adding a level of allure to her already enchanting presence.

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