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Damien looks up at me calmly, “You know who I am, Cassandra?”

“No,” I hiss.

“You do,” he disputes. “You’ve heard of me before. My reputation stretches far and wide. Especially in New York.”

He sounds way too proud about that.

“Your reputation that you’re a mob boss that murders men, women and children in cold blood?”

“Nonsense,” he says genuinely offended. “I would never harm children.”

“Oh, well then you’re the bastion of morality.”

His eyebrow quirks, “Sit down, Cassandra. Now.”

The low timbre of his tone makes it clear he doesn’t expect disobedience. A part of me wants to refuse but I also still need answers. So I slowly lower myself down to the chair.

“Is there no way to break this deal?” I question.

He shakes his head. “It was a blood debt,bella. They demand blood to settle.”

“As in you both split your palms and actually made an oath in blood?” I question horrified.

He chuckles under his breath, “No. But you’ve got the right idea on how serious it was. If your father tried to break the deal, we’d have had to kill you to settle the debt.”

Oh God

I wrap my arms around myself, as if I can somehow block to the reality crashing over me.

“I can’t believe he never told me,” I mumble referring to my father.

This is exactly the kind of thing I should have been made aware of. This is my life we’re talking about. He bargained with my life. And now I’m stuck and I may have to marry this deranged lunatic.

Neither of us speak for a couple of minutes. I’m trying to understand all of this and he seems content to wait while I do.

“You’re in the Cosa Nostra?” I ask quietly after a couple of minutes.

For some reason, I’m curious. I know he’s Italian American. And in the mob, which I guess is what they refer to as the Cosa Nostra. The Italian mafia. But I don’t really know much about how it works.

“Yes, beautiful. I’m the Don. The Cosa Nostra consists of a group of families that run … certain business in the city. I belong to the Luciano family. We’ve been one of the most powerful families for decades. My father was Don before me and his father before him.”

“Beautiful legacy you’re upholding,” I mutter.

“What else would you like to know?” he asks patiently.

“A lot,” I reply, then pause, titling my head to the side as I study him. “How old are you?”

That’s probably irrelevant in the grand scheme of things but I have no idea. He’s definitely in his thirties but I can’t place how far into his thirties he is.

He smiles, “I’m 39, Cassandra.”

My eyes widen. Holy shit, I hadn’t been expecting that. How does a man pushing 40 look as good as he does?

“You’re like 15 years older than me,” I say.

“14,” he corrects with an amused smile. “Why? Does that bother you?”

I think that over before shrugging, “In the grand scheme of things, it’s definitely not anything worth losing sleep over considering all your other flaws.”