ARIA.
Somehow, I'd always known I'd be the one to see my Papa die. He only let himself be vulnerable around me. It's ironic that it was never vice versa, even though I was the child. I never let Papa see my weakness. He liked that I hadn't cried, even when he was dying. "Be strong, la mia principessa," was all he said to me. Be strong, my princess. I didn't need him to remind me. I made sure I had no weakness.
With a quiet sigh, I tossed my white handkerchief on the wet soil beneath which lay my father's coffin—a symbol of respect to my father's departed soul. A courtesy that my father's Capos obviously could not extend. I knew what they were doing. Talking about the next Don is understandable but doing it during my father's funeral was not going to happen.
With a fake smile on my face, I turned to them.
"Gentiluomini, my father was just buried. I believe we can save the discussions for later."
They could obviously see the lack of sincerity in my words. But I wasn't just their principessa—I was their Sotto Capo, Underboss. With a nod, they ended their conversation. For now, at least.
I called Rosa, my cameriere, with a flick of my wrist. Rosa is the only servant that has served me. In all my twenty-two years of living, I don't think she's ever managed to offend me. Well, it's not like she had options. Death was her other alternative.
"Tell Umberto to get the car started. I can't stay here any longer." Rosa simply nodded, then sped off.
I patted Mariella's shoulder in comfort. She's my father's second wife. I don't know why everyone assumed I'd hate her. I didn't mind her; I hardly noticed her. But I knew she'd loved my father. Her eyes were bloodshot red. I'm not sure if she even knows I'm standing beside her.
Capo Romanio continued to stare at her from a distance. I personally found it very distasteful to stare at a widow with lust during her husband's burial. Later, I'd make sure Romanio knew it too.
Matteo was also staring. But not at her. At me.
It's very easy to understand Matteo's motives. From the moment he was appointed Capo, I'd known he wanted to be Don. I could see it in his deceiving eyes. He'd tried to use me to get there. He's still trying. But I'd always seen beneath his dissuading smiles and known the snake beneath.
Father hadn't. Another reason why I was better than him.
I'm vulnerable, I realized. The Capos would insist for me to marry. One of them preferably—and with the determination I saw in Matteo's gaze, he would make sure it's him.
Rosa returned, her head bowed.
"The car is ready, principessa."
I whispered another word of comfort to Mariella. She wouldn't need it, though. I'd protect her.
Without another glance at the Famiglia, I left.
*****
A cloud of smoke surrounded the dim room. The ashy smell of cigarette—my father wholly detested it—filled his beloved office. That made me smirk. He was probably furious in the otherworld.
A loud knock startled me a little. I looked up to see Dominic enter the room and relaxed.
He didn't say anything, simply handed me a file.
After reading, I flung the document at the wall with all my might, knocking over my dad's vase. The Capos had been communicating for weeks without my knowledge; they'd already decided among themselves that they'd force me to marry Matteo.
My head tilted back as I stared at the ceiling.
Dominic excused the room, giving me space to think.
I sat frozen for a moment, my jaw clenched so tightly.
Matteo.
Of all the sons of bitches…
He was a lazy man. Arrogant. Barely capable of running a brothel without burning it down—and they wanted me tied to that?
I wasn't a pawn. I was the principessa of Cosa Nostra.
And yet… the Capos were circling like vultures the moment my father landed in his grave.
I looked at the shattered vase on the floor—priceless Murano glass. The last gift I gave him.
I walked slowly to the bar in the corner and poured myself two fingers of amaro, the way he used to. The bitterness tasted like betrayal.
I needed leverage.
I needed someone they couldn't touch.
Ruthless. Then, I'd be able to assert my dominance.
I turned to the large leather chair behind the desk and sat back down in it. My father's chair. I couldn't let my father's legacy be torn down. I just couldn't.
My eyes found the landline. I could feel my pulse in my ears.
I shouldn't do this, but no Capo would dare challenge him.
I picked up the receiver. The silence hummed before I tapped the number from memory.
It rang twice before he answered.
His voice—cold and laced with danger—purred through the receiver.
"Printsessa. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
I exhaled, slow and careful.
"Mikhail, I need a favor," I said.
After a moment's silence, he murmured,
"I'm listening."
*******************
MIKHAIL.
The phone buzzed. I almost ignored it. But I knew that my personal line was impossible to reach. No one had my number but my family and...
It couldn't be her. Could it?
I answered, voice cold. "Printsessa. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Mikhail, I need your help," she said.
I leaned back in my chair, letting her voice slide over me like expensive whiskey. Aria Belladonna Moretti. The little Italian principessa. The Cosa Nostra had always been our enemy. Our decade long feud was the reason I stayed away from anything Italians were involved in, especially a certain dark haired Italian beauty.
"What would you need my help for? I thought Italians didn't need anyone. That is why your syndicate exempted itself from the CAMORRA alliance, correct?"
"Don't flatter yourself, Mikhail. If there were any other bastard powerful enough to handle this, I'd never be caught dead calling you."
"You might still end up dead, princess. What the hell do you want from me?"
She was silent for a while before she said, "The Capos have gone rogue. They want to marry me off to Matteo."
I chuckled. Low, cruel. "And here I thought your dearly departed father ran a tight ship."
"Don't talk about my father," she hissed.
I leaned forward, voice dipping. "Why not? He never minded tearing down the reputation of Russian men?"
"They've never proved him wrong."
"Yet here you are. Begging a dirty, useless Russian for help."
Another beat of silence. Then she said, "You want territory. Political access. Influence in Sicily. I want the Capos put back in their place and my father's mantle of leadership. We can give each other what we want."
Now we were speaking the same language.
"What else are you willing to propose?" I said.
"You'll get access to the docks. Full backing of my family's legitimate channels. Weapons, cargo, the works."
That was a lot. It would be immensely helpful to my expansion plans that have been in the works for months.
"And in return?" I asked.
"You marry me and I become untouchable. I need a year to stabilize things and claim the position of La Donna."
I let the silence stretch this time. A year of marriage. I get what I want, she gets what she wants.
"Fine," I said finally. "I need tonight to draft the contract, then you come tomorrow to sign."
"Excuse me?"
"You heard me. I need a contract to determine the terms of this agreement. My house. Tomorrow. 9 p.m. Bring your draft as well."
She scoffed. "Whatever."
I smirked "See you soon, principessa."
Then I hung up, already planning how to use this alliance to choke her empire from the inside.