“It doesn’t have to be forever,” she blurted out. “Just until everything settles down. My father will be enraged, but once the deed is done, there’s nothing he can do. We’ll be married in the sight of God, and the New York bosses won’t approve a hit on you because the alliance will end the war. Our marriage will also fulfill the agreement between the families—a Toscani marrying a Cordano. You will have the power to secure your position as boss of your family. After a year or so, when the alliance is running smoothly, we can get the marriage annulled and go our separate ways. I have no desire to trap you, Nico. I just…”
She couldn’t bring herself to tell him about Saturday night. Lessons about keeping her mouth shut had been drilled into her head from her earliest years. Given Nico’s protective nature, she had a feeling he wouldn’t agree to an alliance with her father if he knew what he had done to Kat—or at all, if he still wanted to avenge his father. But more than that, she didn’t want him to agree because he felt sorry for her—that would just lead to resentment later on. She wanted him to agree because of the benefit he would get—the best outcome in any business arrangement.
Silence.
“I can be everything you need a mob wife to be.” She waved her hand over her sickly pink outfit, even as bile rose in her throat. “I learned from the best. I can dress the part, act the part, and be the part. I can be the perfect adornment, the perfect hostess, and the perfect wife. I can dye my hair back to its original color, put the punk stuff away.” She gave a wan smile. “I can learn how to cook and keep the house tidy. I’ll even listen to Sinatra…”
She trailed off when he didn’t respond. “Nico?”
A desperate ache formed in Mia’s chest as he stared at her, his face an expressionless mask. She’d considered all her options, and this was the best she could come up with. If he refused, she’d have to get Kat and go on the run. Although she was tech savvy, she knew there was nowhere to hide if the Mafia really wanted to find them. Kat was young. She didn’t deserve a life of fear, a life where she was constantly looking over her shoulder.
“I’m sorry, bella,” he said, finally. “But I have to decline.”
“Why?” She didn’t want to know, but she did.
“I’m engaged.”
“Ah.” Her breath left her in a rush. Of all the scenarios she had imagined, of all the responses she had prepared for, she hadn’t even considered that he might be with someone else. But why wouldn’t he be? He was rich, powerful, devastatingly handsome, charming, protective and utterly compelling. She had been a fling for him, but nothing more. Her world fell out from under her and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t even consider … I thought when you … when we … that was wrong of me.” She pushed her chair away, and her napkin fell to the floor. “I feel so stupid. I mean, it’s not like we were in love or anything, or I thought it would be real, but I was desperate … my sister … I needed help, and … of course, you can’t—”
“Mia.” A pained expression crossed his face, the first hint he felt anything for her at all.
“No. It’s okay. You don’t have to say anything else. I knew it was a bad idea anyway. I don’t want to be married into the mob. My whole life has been about escaping my Mafia roots. I’m sure I would have made your life a living hell in the short time we were together, even if it wasn’t real. I would actually be a terrible mob wife. I can’t cook. I’m awkward in social situations. I always use the wrong fork at the table. I’m not easy to live with. I’m very messy, listen to loud music, dress weird, eat a lot of unhealthy food, and I never screw the top on the toothpaste. I’m glad you found someone who does want the life, though. I’m sure she’s perfectly lovely.” Her bag fell off the end of the chair as she slid off her seat. Hand shaking, she bent to pick it up and rose too quickly, snagging her stocking on the rough metal piping of the chair.
Her face flamed, and her pulse beat so hard all she could hear was the frantic pounding of her heart.
“Mia. Wait.” Nico stood, his chair making a high-pitched shriek as it scraped over the floor.
Suddenly the enormity of the situation hit her in a rush, and she began to unravel. For five days she had focused on this meeting, hope giving her the courage to carry on. But now there was nothing to hold her up, no one to catch her as she fell. She stepped back to get away, stumbling on the uncomfortable, unfamiliar heels. She grabbed the chair for balance and tipped it backward to the floor.
No. She was not going to humiliate herself further by falling on her face. She steadied herself, took a deep breath and then turned and walked out the door as the run in her nylons zipped up the back of her thigh.
*