02

Our mother’s eyes. Besides those magnificent eyes, I sometimes wondered if we shared anything else. Marcelo stood beside him with his hands behind his back.

« Elena, there is something we need to discuss. »

« Okay, what is it ? »

« It’s about the family business. I’ve been speaking with a Don for the past few weeks. He’s of the Pesci family out in Florida. He’s willing to aid me in the war against the Irish and Russians if I offer your hand in marriage. »

His words had me frozen in place. Shock, fear, and disgust shot through my entire body. He said the past few weeks, which meant he was planning this before our father passed away. I felt nauseous from every word he spoke.

I stood up, my body still shaking from everything that had just happened, and placed my hand over my chest. My heart was racing so hard that I looked at him as if he were insane. He had to be insane. Maybe it was the grief.

« No. »

His lips thinned, and he stood up and came round to where I was standing. « I’m not asking for your permission. I’m the Don of our family now, and we need this alliance. You’re marrying him. »

« No, I will not be marrying him, and no, I will not be moving to Florida, » I said, my voice clipped. « We just buried our father. Who do you think you are to be making this choice for me ? »

His jaw twitched, and he took a step closer. « You’re going to marry him, and I don’t care if I have to tie you up at the fucking altar. I need his fucking connections. »

« I’m not leaving mom, nonna, and the bakery. I’m not leaving my friends, my family. No, I’m sorry. Find out another way without selling me off. »

« My word is the law. » He spoke through clenched teeth.

« Not mine. »

His hand met my cheek so fast that I didn’t even register the slap until it was too late. I stood there in complete shock, and my fingers were shaky as they trailed to the burning side of my face.

I cupped my cheek and could feel tears streaming down my face, but it wasn’t the pain that made me cry. It wasn’t the stinging flesh and warmth of my cheek or how fingers were probably imprinted on my face, but the fact that my brother raised his hand on me.

My breathing was ragged as I stared up at him, and I couldn’t even see remorse or regret in his eyes.

« Your wedding’s this weekend. You have this week to prepare yourself for it. » He spat, and I coiled when his hand rose again, but he just fixed his tie. « Now, get the fuck out of my face. »

I could feel Marcelo staring at me in what seemed like pity, but I couldn’t even process any thoughts. I walked out of the office that used to be my father’s and felt like a zombie until I walked to my room.

Once inside, I allowed myself the liberty to cry freely. I leaned against the door, and my legs gave out. I fell to the ground and wrapped my arms around myself as I curled into a ball. I didn’t know what I was crying about ; my father passing away or being sold off like some animal to a man I didn’t even know.

I was upset about leaving my hometown and family. I was torn to pieces that my brother would do something like this without talking to me first. I was fucking heartbroken over the fact that he hit me, and from the dark look in his eyes, I knew he wouldn’t hesitate to hit me again.

Oisín

Beautiful.

God, she’s so fucking beautiful. Obsession was an understatement for what I felt for her. I’d kill for her. I’d burn down the entire world for her if she ever asked me to. I wonder if she knew of her effortless beauty that had me falling so deep under her trance.

Such simple beauty, yet here I was, on my fucking knees. Her little ringlets swayed left and right with her movement, and her bangs were constantly in her face, which she brushed away a million times during the day. Her fingers were so dainty, so soft, so graceful.

God, so delicate.

Her lips were pinker than pink and sensual whenever she bit down on them—a tactic she did too much. I wanted to be the one biting her lips, the only one tasting her mouth and tongue. Infatuation wasn’t my color, nor stalking, but this woman made it my color.

Her eyes sparkled like embers, bringing back memories of nights spent by the fire. They were a mixture of brown and green, and the way they looked underneath the sun was bewitching. I stayed watching from afar, always from afar.

Absentmindedly, I ran my fingers over my knuckles where her name was tattooed. On my right was Elena, and on my left hand was my daughter’s name. I had gotten it inked from the very first moment I spotted her, from the very first day I fell into my maddening fixation with her.

She baked and worked in the little café, and usually, she had such spunk, joy shining in her eyes, and a glow over her face, but not lately. Lately, she lacked it all. I ached to know who hurt her, who upset her, and I craved to make her smile and laugh.

I wanted to kill whoever hurt her, whoever dared to bring her so down and make her so blue. I didn’t like it. I hated seeing her so upset. It killed me. I sighed as I watched her place the pink cupcake in the box, tie it up, and place it in my daughter’s hand.

She gave her a small, sweet smile that didn’t reach her face, and then my little girl left the bakery. The beauty waved back, and then my daughter skipped toward me. I opened the door, and one of my men helped her inside.

I had Aofie when I was forty years old with my first wife. My six-year-old daughter was the only blessing from my first marriage, and my love for my girl could fill up oceans. She’s my world and means everything to me.

It didn’t matter that she was the spitting image of her mom. She was my girl, and I’d protect her with my life. Her dark hair was in two long braids with her bangs parted to the sides, and she was in one of her many, many, many dresses.

Her light brown eyes shined as she smiled at me. She had the same charming smile as her mother, but the only difference was that only Aofie’s smile had me wrapped around her finger.

« Daid, look what I got. » She flashed me her cupcake box.

« I saw, mo chailín milis. Did you see your friend ? »

Her nose wrinkled as she set the box on her lap. « Elena ? »

« Yes. »

« I did. I like her. She’s nice to me, but she wasn’t happy today. » She murmured.

« Why do you say that mo chailín milis ? »

« She was crying when we walked in. » She played with the box in her lap.

My heart cracked. « She was crying ? »

« Yes. »

I stayed quiet the rest of the ride home, but my entire being felt like it was wound up too tight. I didn’t want to express my anger in front of my daughter. I never wanted her to see this part of me or any other scary or menacing part of me. I wanted to keep her innocent for the rest of her life. Once we reached the house, I helped her out of the car and kept my hand on her shoulder as I guided her inside.

« Have Fiona help you with the cupcake. I’ll be right in. » I said, and she ran inside. Once she was out of my sight, I aggressively dug into my pockets and pulled out a cigarette and lighter. « Liam. » I gritted out. « Is something happening with the Morelli’s that I don’t know about ? » I asked my cousin.

Liam approached me. « Her father, Frediano Morelli, passed away a few days ago. Everyone in Nevada is mourning him. »

Liam was a few years younger than me. He was my only cousin from my father’s side. I respected him. I respected his loyalty and his bravery. He’s a good man and proved his worth and skills over the years, even before I became the leader.

He was of average height with a significant build. This man had more tattoos than me and observant eyes that never missed anything. I didn’t require my men to look or dress a certain way, but Liam was always dressed in black clothes. He never let his light hair grow out, keeping it in a military undercut with a fade.

« Is that all ? » I asked through an exhale.

« There is talk of an engagement. »

I cocked a brow. « Enzo ? »