Brutal Prince (Brutal Birthright)

There’s nothing I can say in response to that.

Because deep down, I know that it’s true.

6

Callum

I’m sitting on the back deck, watching the hired staff clean up the last remnants of trash and supplies from the party. They’ve been working all night. My mother insisted that it all be cleaned up immediately, so none of our neighbors would have to see a hint of disarray on our grounds on their way to work in the morning.

My sisters went to bed already—Nessa flushed and happy from the excitement of the evening, Riona pouting because I refused to tell her where our father disappeared to.

My mother is still awake, supervising the clean-up efforts, though not actually touching anything herself.

When my father’s armored car pulls into the drive, she abandons the workers and joins us back in the office. I feel like I’ve spent too many hours in here lately. And I don’t like the look on my father’s face.

“So?” I say at once. “What was the agreement?”

I’m expecting him to say that we came to some kind of financial agreement or handshake deal—maybe they’ll give us support with the Italian vote in the Alderman election, and we’ll promise them whatever permits or zoning they want on their next construction project.

So when my father explains the actual deal, I stare at him like he just sprouted two heads.

“You will marry Aida Gallo in two weeks,” he says.

“That little brat?” I explode. “No fucking way.”

“It’s already settled.”

My mother steps forward, looking alarmed. She lays her hand on my father’s arm.

“Fergus,” she says in a low tone. “Is this wise? We’ll be tied to the Gallos in perpetuity.”

“That’s exactly the point,” my father says.

“They’re filthy fucking gangsters!” I spit out. “We can’t have their name associated with ours. Especially not with the election coming up.”

“The election will be the first benefit of this alliance,” my father says, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with the handkerchief he keeps in his breast pocket. “Your success is by no means assured when you’re facing off against La Spata. The Gallos hold the key to the Italian vote. If you’re married to Aida when the ballot goes out, every single one of them in this district will vote for you. They’ll abandon La Spata without hesitation.”

“I don’t need her to win!” I snarl.

“Don’t be so sure,” my father says. “You’re too confident, Callum. Arrogant, even. If the vote happened today, the results might be a coin toss. You should always secure your victory ahead of time, given the opportunity.”

“Fine,” I say, trying to maintain my temper. “But what about after this month? Do you honestly expect me to stay married to her forever?”

“Yes, I do,” my father says seriously. “The Gallos are Catholic, the same as us. You’ll marry her, you’ll be faithful to her, and you’ll father children with her.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “Mother, surely you have something to say about this.”

She looks back and forth between my father’s face and mine. Then she tucks a lock of smooth blonde hair behind her ear and sighs.

“If the deal was struck, we will abide by it.”

I should have known. She always sides with father.

Still, I sputter, “What?! You can’t—”

She cuts me off with a glance.

“Callum, it’s time for you to become the man you profess to be. I’ve watched you play around with these girls you date—models and socialites. You seem to deliberately pick the most shallow and empty-headed girls.”