Owned by the Mob (Bianchi Crime Family 3)

“Be good for Papa.” He swoops up the baby’s diaper bag, and they leave us. I’m shocked to see that brute turn into a marshmallow.

“He’s a good man, despite his occupation,” she says, looking at me while I stare at the door.

“So do you want to get in the shower and stuff so we can meet Mariana? Are you hungry?” I wonder how much caffeine she has in any given day.

“A little,” I say.

“Well, Nico said there’s a bunch of food to reheat. I’ll do it while you get ready. Maybe we can have Mariana meet us over here. I think that will be a better idea. There are more places to shop over here.” She answers herself before I can get a word out.

“Um… okay.” I wonder if this Mariana thinks Aria’s a bit overly sweet and demanding at the same time. Still, it’s nice to have someone to talk with, which is a whole new experience. I’m constantly too busy to socialize with the girls at the cafe.

I smile and walk back into the bedroom and then walk toward the bathroom. Just like everything around this condo, the bathroom is immaculate and amazing. I quickly shower and wrap one of his uber fluffy towels around my body.

I know he has clothes for me here, so I open the closet door to see double the clothes I normally owned. Still, most of this is stuff I would wear on any given day. There are some pretty party dresses, and I wonder if Aria had a hand in that as well.

Seeing that Aria’s in a cute pair of jeans and a pretty dress shirt with a matching short jacket, I find something casual as well. Thankfully, there are a pair of cute Vans that work with this outfit.

“Don’t you look adorable,” she says. “Seriously, I should take a picture and send it to Nico. He’s going to flip. You’re too hot for his own good.”

“We’re not together,” I insist.

“That’s what we all said.”

My eyes shoot open as I process what she’s saying. “So you were all coerced?”

“Not really. I technically was in love with my husband long before our arranged marriage.”

“What?”

“I was coerced.” We turn around to see who’s speaking. Damn—Niccolò’s door isn’t very secure since everyone has a key.

“Ah, there you are.” Aria walks past me to the beautiful auburn-haired woman who I’ve never seen before at the café and gives her a hug.

“Yes, Nero just dropped me off after Dom told him where you were at.” She turns to me. “I’m Mariana Conlon.” We shake hands and then her eyes land on the dishes Aria’s taken out of the fridge and says, “Damn, pasta for breakfast. This family is going to make me fat.” She rubs her flat stomach.

“I’ve said the same thing, but our men make sure we work it off.” She winks at Mariana, and they giggle.

Seeing that I’m aghast by their men demanding they lose the weight, Aria says, “Sex, Ivy. Our men love us, and especially when we’re naked. Just wait until you’re pregnant. They can’t seem to keep their hands off you. Domani loves it, so now I’m pregnant with another one.”

“I can’t believe this. You all know that Niccolò and I aren’t a couple. My stepfather sent my business into debt, and they are helping me out of it.”

“I told you she was adorable,” she says to Mariana, getting a nod in return. I just roll my eyes at these two. Partly because they don’t listen and also because I kind of want it to be true. If Niccolò wanted more than just the money owed, goodness. I can’t even fathom that. My heart’s racing just thinking about him kissing me the way his brother was all over Aria.

“So how about we eat and then talk wedding stuff?” Mariana says.

“I’m not marrying Niccolò,” I blurt out, wondering if I said my thoughts out loud.

“Okay.”

“I mean it.” I huff. “Okay, I have to go. I need to head into the café and see how it’s running. It’s really nice to talk to you both, but I’m not in the same position.”

“Nico won’t be happy about you going to work,” Aria says with a look of frustration. Was she tasked to keep me at home?

“Well, who gives a shit? Not me. Frankly, I’m not happy with him,” I add. I steal another piece of garlic bread and pick up my purse.

“Don’t forget your phone. I’ll have Tony take you to the café.”

“Who’s Tony?”

“He works for the family, and we completely trust him. Now have a good day, and give him hell,” Mariana says, giving me a wink before sticking her fork into the tray of pasta.

These women are confusing. I leave the house and get downstairs where a forty-year-old man in a suit meets me. “Hello, Mrs. Bianchi, I’m Tony D. I’ve been asked to take you to your café.”