Page 9

“I’m going to marry Danilo Mancini’s sister,” I said casually. The agreement had happened nine months ago, but I’d kept it to myself so far.
Renato sat up straight in his chair, his brows shooting up. “Wheelchair girl?”
I scowled. “Emma Mancini is her name, and I expect you to treat her with the necessary respect, considering she’s my future wife.”
“Sure, but how did this happen?” Renato opened his arms, palms pointing my way, demanding an explanation.
“It’s a deal between Danilo and my family.”
“Don’t tell me that happened back when Sofia was promised to him?”
I took another sip from my drink before I nodded. Renato leaned forward and shoved my knee so hard that I almost spilled my Negroni.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me before?”
“Too much going on. It didn’t seem important at the time.”
Renato scoffed. “Not important? You’re talking about the woman you have to spend the rest of your life with.”
“It’s still a while before I can marry her.” I shrugged.
Renato mimicked my shrug with a pissed expression. He shook his head and sank back against the headrest. “Really?” He shook his head again. “Fuck. That’s hard.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Come on, you could have married anyone, and you get the girl who Cincinatti left at the altar.”
“They canceled the engagement, Renato. There’s a difference.”
“They canceled the engagement because she’s in a wheelchair, Samuel.”
“That was dishonorable and tasteless,” I muttered. “I can’t see why her being in a wheelchair gave them the right to cancel the engagement.”
“Yet most people got it and would probably have done the same if their only son had been promised to the girl.”
“I won’t leave her at the altar,” I said matter-of-factly. I didn’t know anything about Emma, except that Sofia liked her very much and that she was apparently very kind.
“Sometimes you’re too honorable for your own good.”
I emptied the rest of my drink. I wouldn’t have chosen Emma for various reasons. Her wheelchair was one of them. But not in the way Renato probably suspected. A wife in a wheelchair was another level of responsibility I didn’t want to have. Fuck, I’dgotten three good friends killed. Being responsible for anyone, especially someone as vulnerable as Emma, wasn’t something I was really keen on. And there was the matter of needing to create an heir at some point. As the eldest son and future Underboss, I was expected to produce offspring. If rumors could be believed, Emma wouldn’t be able to give me any. But that was a worry for the future, and I never made a habit out of trusting rumors anyway.
Renato nudged me again. “Don’t get lost in your shitty thoughts again. Let’s have a few more drinks and then go to a club to let off some steam.”
Getting shit-faced sounded like a good plan.
14 years old
“You look marvelous!” Giorgia crooned.
I bit my lip, feeling really pretty in the dress I’d picked for her brother’s wedding. It was one of the few social gatherings I’d attended since my accident. The last time had been Dad’s funeral. The stares or obvious attempts not to stare at me had made me feel very anxious back then. Remembering that day caused a flood of anxiety inside me.
The past
“I wouldn’t want to be in Danilo’s shoes,” someone whispered. “A grieving mother, left by his future wife, and responsible for taking care of a disabled sister.”
My face heated. I wondered if people thought I was deaf. Since I was in a wheelchair, it happened often that they didn’tlower their voices around me. They cast what they considered inconspicuous glances at me.
I bottled my anger up like I’d been taught to as a good girl. I wanted to scream and rage, and sometimes I wanted to hide and cry. Currently, I felt like doing the latter.