Married to the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 1)

We quietly go up the stairs, and her father knocks on the door while I stand off to the side, so they don’t see my feet under the door. Aria’s refusal only makes me laugh because my queen has a backbone that I will cherish. However, I’m just going to have to show her mine is made of steel.

Chapter Two

Aria

“You’re such a brat, Aria,” my sister, Gloria, says, crossing her arms and stomping her foot like she’s a child instead of a married twenty-two-year-old woman with kids. I’m hardly a brat, but that’s hard for anyone to see these days, since they all believe that my fiancé is everything wonderful and powerful.

I flip her off and continue taking my time. “Says the woman who married for love. You got lucky. I get to marry some guy I don’t know who is one of the most dangerous men in the world, and probably a big whore to boot.” And I’m terrifyingly attracted to Domani Bianchi which only makes matters worse for me. What if I’m putty in his hands? What if I lose who I am?

I’m marrying a man who’s so gorgeous it needs to be listed with his other sins. The bastard has the look of a killer meets Superman. Technically we’ve never met in person, but we’ve had two close encounters—and one lives so vividly in my head.

Given our family connections and the business they’re in, I should have met him more often than that, but I’ve been locked away since I grew tits and one of my classmates noticed. It happened shortly after my favorite almost meeting with Domani Bianchi. Trying to make a move on me, a classmate, Franco found out the hard way that you don’t fuck with a mafia princess. He only got his broken arm as a warning to stay far away. He’s lucky it was only that, because my family can be crazy, deadly crazy. He’s even luckier that I don’t have an older brother. Those motherfuckers in our world are bananas when it comes to their little sisters.

Still, the Bianchis are much worse than that. They run this city and don’t hesitate to kill anyone who crosses them. There are other families in the Chicago area, but there’s no mistaking who’s the true boss. Even my father defers to him. I’ve heard tail ends of calls that prove how dangerous my future husband can be.

Domani Bianchi’s the head of the family now that his father has retired, and now that the dark prince has become king, he’s looking for his queen.

From what my mother told me, my dad presented photos to Domani with the mention of my innocence, and the family decided on our marriage. I’m to be his queen in two days here in our family home in front of two hundred strangers from other mafia families. There are four families, but there has been a truce so they will all attend. I’ve asked to be let out of the marriage, but to no avail. I don’t want to be stuck in a loveless marriage. I’ve already barely seen much of the outside world, and I’m going to miss out, marrying the most ruthless son of a bitch around. Although I wasn’t exactly locked away, I became homeschooled and hardly ever spent time with friends over the past two years, so much so that most don’t even bother to text me anymore. I’ve become an outcast when I was the most popular girl. It wasn’t the popularity, but rather the loss of having something to look forward to.

Tonight, I’m to meet my husband-to-be at a dinner hosted at his home, where I’ll be given a tour of my future residence and all the glorious elegance inside. I rolled my eyes at the way my mother described their home. Shouldn’t I have seen it first?

I stare around my insanely massive bedroom, knowing we have an amazing mansion as well. If that’s their selling point, it’s not a good one. Been there done that kind of thing. Although my room has seen better days. Most of my room has been packed up with boxes lining the walls, signaling my fate is nearly here. I do my best to stay headstrong and resist, but I know my efforts are futile.

My hands are shaking as I brush my hair, avoiding my sister’s glare through my large vanity mirror. “Don’t you have a family that needs tending to?”

“Don’t be a jerk. You’re my sister and my family as well. Besides, my husband is getting them ready for bed.” I look at my watch. It’s a little early for bed, but they have a whole routine that they do no matter where they travel and because her husband is from Ireland, they travel a great deal.

Still, my nerves are on edge, and I wish she’d leave me alone. There’s so much that this man could do to me; not only can he physically hurt me if he wants to, but emotionally too. I’m afraid of the butterflies I get in my stomach when I see pictures of him. He’s a thousand times more potent when he’s near, and in the two years since our last encounter, I can still feel his eyes on me. It’s painful the way my body wants to gravitate toward him that elevates my shitty mood. I’m going to be the lovesick puppy while he has whores at his beck and call whenever he deems me not enough.