Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’m there already.
“Nice doing business with you,” I tell Tommaso, before I offer Valentino a look and nod in agreement to kill the bastard. Turning on my heel, I head out, following behind the two men I have that are trying to get my new wife into the back of the waiting town car.
I really should go with her and try to get to know her, but since I have my bike, I don’t bother offering her any more attention before sliding my leg over the cool metal and shrugging on the helmet. The rumble of the engine growls between my legs and I take off, knowing my men won’t be far behind as they escort my bride to the penthouse.
And when I get there, I’m going to make sure she knows exactly who owns her now.
Chapter 4
Luna
Anger is the only thing I feel when I walk into the immaculate living room. His home is nothing more than my prison. It’s furnished in darkness and draped in violence. Everything that just happened confirms what I already knew. The prince of the De Rossi Familia is my future husband, and there’s nothing I can do about it. The contract stands. My uncle finalized it and now I find myself in the devil’s lair.
The night the paperwork was signed, I was furious, but over the past few weeks, I’ve allowed that emotion to stew, and now I’m drowning in rage.
“This is where you’ll wait for the boss,” one of the men who brought me here says in a rough voice. He’s tall and scary. His shoulders span the width of the doorway, and his hands are clasped in front of his stomach. He looks every bit as violent as Enzo. “Don’t try anything because we are right outside, and if we have to run after you, you might get hurt,” he informs me with a smirk that tells me I will get hurt. “And that will only upset the boss.” He gestures with his head, his eyes pinned on me as if he doesn’t trust me. I wouldn’t trust me either because I need to get out of here, but being in the penthouse doesn’t leave room for escape.
“And how many women have you locked in his apartment before?” I sneer, but he doesn’t answer. He merely shakes his head and chuckles before shutting the door in my face.
I turn to take in the living area. Even if I wanted to run, there’s nowhere to go. And I don’t think the man I’m here to marry will take too kindly to my antics. Not that I care if he hates me or not, because I most definitely hate him, but I don’t know if he’ll hurt my uncle if I were to disobey him.
Time and again, I told my papa that he should walk away from ruling the empire his former capo left to him, but he refused. Yes, we were a force to be reckoned with a long time ago, but over the years, my father trusted the wrong men. And it brought us to a point of desperation. When I learned the Boss of the De Rossi clan, as well as his wife were killed, I knew my life was over. I didn’t fight the contract. I didn’t even ask Tommaso to request another form of payment. This is the life I’d been born into and it’s the life I’ve come to accept. Since I was a little girl, I realized I would never marry for love.
In this life, there are no choices.
Not for me, anyway.
I’m here because my father fucked up.
I’m no stranger to blood. Not even death scares me, but knowing my papa is a killer, that does something to a girl. I grew up around men who have blood staining their hands, knowing about the mafia, learning about princes and princesses who ruled every criminal organization known to man.
And I learned my fair share about my future husband.
Enzo de Rossi wasn’t just any Underboss; he was the Underboss.
And when my family had his parents murdered, he stepped up. He took over the reins of the De Rossi Familia, and he became the king. He was a man that was whispered about, older than me by a good fifteen years. At thirty-three, he’s one of the youngest bosses, and is rumored to be the cruelest.
I first heard his name when I started my senior year in high school. All the girls there talked about was who they’d be married off to. They were excited. I wasn’t. All my friends knew of Enzo de Rossi. He was Underboss at the time, and the fixer of the family. He would kill those who wronged the De Rossi name, and he did so without mercy.
All my friends crushed on him.
They wanted to be his wife.
And yet, here I am, hating the fact that I will soon say the words I do to a man I hate, but begrudgingly also respect. He has done some deplorable things in his life, but he seems to have done them because he needed to. The vile people he killed suggested he did not do it for fun.
According to my father, he enjoyed his position within the Familia. He loved the jobs his own father would send him on. I’ve eavesdropped far too many times on conversations a girl like me had no right hearing. Enzo is a legend within the clans. He is meticulous in his torture, and merciless in his kills.
But if I compare Enzo to the men who worked for my father, I realize Enzo isn’t evil, despite my belief that he’s a monster. Each kill he’s made, every person whose life he’s taken, had all wronged his family. He never afforded them mercy, which means he may not show me any either.
He will see me as one of them, and no matter what my last name will be, I will never truly be a De Rossi.
Which is why I know I need an upper hand, or something of the sort, to make sure he doesn’t kill me on the first night. I did my fair share of research on Enzo since the night of the contract signing.
And that’s when I learned two things about my future husband.
Men age like a fine wine.
And Enzo de Rossi is an exquisite vintage.
Sighing, I move through the apartment. Since I’m alone, I don’t bother fighting, knowing there are two vicious bodyguards are right outside. One thing I learned from my father was that I should choose my battles. I may want to stab Enzo in the jugular for making me marry him, but, I know that if I choose my battles with him with a clear mind, I may get through this.
I take in his apartment. An intimate dining room sits to the left of the entrance, and to the left of it is the kitchen, which I don’t pay much attention to. The windows in the open plan living room are floor to ceiling, with an arch close to the top, which gifts it an appearance of a chapel of sorts. The views of New York greet me, the lights twinkling as I pass by the fireplace and head down the hall.
There are four doors. Pushing one open, I find a luxurious bathroom with spa bath and large shower. The next room is a bedroom with a single bed and a few bits of furniture. When I move deeper down the hallway, I open the next door to my right and find a beautiful bedroom decked out in soft blue furnishings, an enormous king-sized bed, along with a chaise longue which overlooks the city.
There are no photos with family memories, nothing that would confirm anyone actually lives here. Enzo’s house is as much a mystery as he is. The man is a ghost, apart from the photos captured of him attending expensive dinners and gala events with beautiful women on his arm. I noticed that none of these women were featured a second or third time with him. He’s well-known in this town for enjoying meaningless, no-string attachments. Nothing more.
That shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, but I can’t stop the jealousy from coursing through my veins. It’s stupid to be bitter over someone I don’t love, or even care for, but deep down, knowing he’ll soon be my husband does stupid shit to me. Shit, I didn’t expect or care for. I don’t like being vulnerable. I can defend myself, if need be, but right now, I feel like a fish out of water.