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Did you like this book? Then you’ll LOVE Ruthless Union, the first in an 8 book series!

It was my duty to marry a monster. It was my heart that chose to love him.

Shipped across the country to marry a man I’ve never even seen before,

I am terrified.

As the oldest of six siblings, it is my responsibility to marry well.

But I was not prepared for Marco Aldi.

A man who hides himself from me, never letting me in, never letting me get close.

He’s a stranger to me and yet he’s my husband.

How can I fall in love with a man who never shows me his heart?

Despite this, I find myself drawn to him.

The mystery surrounding him.

He holds a dark secret in his past.

It was my duty to marry Marco, to ensure the protection of my family.

Now it’s my choice to fall in love with him.

The question is – will Marco open his heart to me…

Or will I be stuck in a loveless marriage forever, bound only by duty?

Start reading Ruthless Union NOW!

Sneak Peek

Chapter One: Emilia

I stare down at my father’s face.

With his ruddy cheeks, he looks so alive, even tucked into his casket. Must be my mom’s doing. I know she wanted him to look good. It’s open casket, and so many people are going to see him today. My mom looked at him first. I followed second.

I have to be strong and not cry because my mom is already breaking down into tears. My younger siblings, standing behind me, are not holding up well either.

Riccardo Moretti, Mafia boss for the Italian mob in New York City. My parents never hid his job. In fact, they made it so well known that I know exactly what’s going to happen after today.

My younger brother, Antonio, will be expected to take over, even though he’s only twelve. My family will mourn. And I will be married to some other Mafia man I’ve never met.

I know this because it’s my duty as a Mafia daughter, and I’m finally of age. For years, I’ve known my one purpose is to marry well.

Now that my father is dead and I’m eighteen, I know what’s coming. My family line needs to continue, and it’s my responsibility to make it happen.

My throat closes up as I look down at my dad. He filled up a room with his boisterous laughter. It’s strange to see him so quiet. Death will do that to you. Change you completely.

It’s not only my dad who’s changed though. My entire family has. His death will always be a struggle for us. Not just emotionally but physically. My brother Antonio is the only son. The rest of my siblings are girls. I can already tell my father’s men will pounce on us like vultures.

Glancing away from my father, I look around the room. It’s full of men I barely know, all in black suits. All decades older. And all already looking at my younger sisters like they’re pieces of meat to devour. I need to marry well. It will be the only thing to protect us at this scary time.

As my mom, Giulia, stumbles as she makes her way back to the pew, I catch her arm. “Mom?”

She gives me a shaky smile before her face crumbles. “I can’t do this, Emilia. I can’t do this.” She speaks in a low voice that only I can hear. “Your father was my rock. I can’t do this without him.”

“You’ll have to.” I hate to say it, but it’s true.

“I know. Thank goodness I have you.” She pats my hand before taking her seat.

I look behind me at my sister, Gemma. She sixteen and the second oldest. We look so alike with our blonde hair and fair skin, but we’re very different people. Gemma is rebellious; she likes to push boundaries. I guess my dutifulness has allowed her to be like that. I’ve always been there to pick up the pieces. She’s looking down at Dad now, her face scrunched up. She’s trying not to cry, too. I lean in close to her. “It’s ok. You can cry.”

A gasp escapes her before tears begin to stream down her face. The minute she cries, the rest of my siblings follow suit. Francesca, who’s fourteen, cries silently, hiding behind her brown hair.

Antonio, next in line, tries to stand tall. Other than myself, he has the most pressure being put on him with our dad dying. He’s not ready to be a boss at twelve years old. I’m not sure how he’s going to handle it. What I do know is that I’ll have to be the one to help him through it.

Cecilia holds onto the cross around her neck as she prays for our dad. I can see her speaking to it, searching for strength. At only ten, she’s already the most religious in my family, despite us all being catholic. With her platinum blonde hair, she stands out in a crowd, and I can already see the men in the room looking at her. It’s disgusting. She’s just a child and so innocent. She truly believes Dad is up in heaven somewhere.

I might not know everything Dad did, but I’m old enough to know you don’t become a Mafia boss without doing some bad things. I wonder if Dad is really in heaven or if he’s already rotting in hell. I wonder if that’s the price we’ll all pay someday.

Last in line is my youngest sister, Mia, who’s only eight. The fact that she’s going to live most of her life without knowing our dad is the thought that almost breaks me.

She looks the most like Francesca, even though she’s much more outgoing. She’s not shackled by puberty-driven insecurity, which Francesca is going through at the moment. Losing my dad at eighteen is hard enough. I can’t imagine what it’s like for my younger siblings.

I have to stop myself from stumbling like my mother. She’s crying too hard right now to be of much help. I have to be there for my siblings. They won’t make it through this day without me.

Gemma brushes past me as she sits down in the pew, putting distance between herself and our mom.

“Don’t be so brusque, Gemma,” Mom scolds through her tears. Gemma bristles at the comment but doesn’t respond.

Francesca keeps her head down as she takes her seat, while Antonio keeps his head held high as he does the same.

Cecilia grips my hand. “Dad will be all right. He’s in heaven.” The fact that she can have hope even while crying warms my heart.

“Of course, he is,” I reassure her. She takes her seat next to Antonio.

Mia crumbles before our dad’s casket. Her wails pierce the air in the echoing church.

I rush to her side and wrap my arms around her. “Mia, sweetie. You’re ok. I’m here.”

“Emilia,” she sobs into my chest. “Dad …” She can’t even finish her sentence. I just soothe her as we kneel next to his casket, in view of everyone. Looking around at my father’s men and their wives, I feel disgust. The wives look at Mia with condescending pity while the men have salacious smirks on their face, like the cries of an eight-year-old are humorous to them.

I hate Mafia men, and yet, one of them is my future. I just don’t know who yet.

“Come on,” I murmur to Mia. “Let’s go sit down.” I help her to her seat, but she grabs my hand before I can leave.

“Sit with me,” she says.

“You know I can’t, Mia. Mom wants me to sit next to her. I’m the oldest. It’s my duty.”

“I got her,” Cecilia says, grabbing Mia’s hand. I nod at Cecilia before taking my seat next to Mom. With six of us kids, we’re used to taking care of each other. Mom can only handle so much at a time. It’s usually up to me to handle the rest, and when I can’t, it means my siblings, who are still children, have to do it. It’s not right, but it’s our reality.

Mom leans into me as the priest takes his spot at the podium and begins the ceremony. My mother’s cries are so loud I can barely hear the priest speak. He talks about how my father was a strong and impactful member of the community. How he will be sorely missed. I wonder if that’s true.

I’m sure he has enemies as a mob boss. There are probably people celebrating his death. In fact, some of those people might be in this room. I look around and catch the eye of my uncle, Franco Moretti. He’s about a decade younger than my father, but despite being young and handsome, there’s a hardness to him that my father never had.

His eyes flick to mine, and he nods, his face a mask I can’t make out. I look away without giving anything back.

Once the priest finishes his speech, he invites anyone to come up and say something about my father.

Everyone looks at my mother, but she can’t go up there. She won’t stop crying. It’s up to me, then.

But the moment I stand up, so does my uncle Franco. He motions for me to sit down as he strides toward the podium. I sit down with a flush. Franco has a right to speak. Riccardo was his brother, after all. But Riccardo was my father. It should be my mom or me up there, not Franco. He should have waited his turn, but instead, he took my turn from me.

“My brother was a good man,” Franco starts, his voice clear and even as he speaks. He doesn’t even sound like he’s been affected by my dad’s death at all. “I admired him. I looked up to him. He ruled this city with a gentle touch, which was a miracle given his profession.” A few chuckles fill the room. I personally don’t think my dad’s death is a laughing matter. “It will be interesting to see what happens next. To Riccardo’s son, Antonio. May he reign. And to Giulia, Riccardo’s widow. May she be at peace. And to Riccardo’s girls. May you all find good husbands. Thank you.” He walks away without even looking at my family.

“A weird fucking speech,” Gemma mutters to me.

“Language, Gemma,” Mom scolds. It is amazing how she can still do that while crying.

“Yeah,” I say to Gemma. “It was.” I watch as Franco takes his seat again, looking like the most confident and most powerful man in the room. I hate him for this, and I don’t even know why.

I stand up and approach the podium before anyone else can. “My dad …” I trail off. My voice is amplified by the mic, and it makes me sound strange, like I’m a stranger at my dad’s funeral. Franco smirks. I clear my throat. “My dad could command everyone’s attention the moment he stepped into a room. That was the kind of presence he had. Despite his demanding job, he always made sure to be home for dinner. He never missed our family dinners. He loved my mom.” She cries harder at this. I have to clear my throat again to get passed how choked up I’m becoming. “They had a love that was to be studied. To be admired. They were always there for each other, even in subtle ways. Like Dad doing the dishes when Mom would get overwhelmed. Or Mom taking the time to iron his suit because she knew how much he liked waking up to it. They gave and they took from each other in the best way. I hope to have a love like that someday.” I blink and a wet spot lands on the podium. It takes me a second to realize that it’s my tear. “He also loved us, his kids. I’ll miss him every day, and I know my siblings will, too.” I look at my dad, dead in his casket despite looking alive. “I’ll miss you, Daddy. Cecilia believes you’re in heaven, and I really hope you are.” I hurry away from the podium and back to my seat.

“That was beautiful, Emilia,” Mom says.

“Thanks, Mom.”

She clutches my hand like she’ll die if she doesn’t have me to anchor her to this earth.

After the ceremony, we leave for the reception, which is held across the street at a community center. It’s a strange sight, seeing everyone in their finest black cross at an intersection. I hold onto Mom and Mia’s hands as we enter the building.

Food is already being served. Drinks are already pouring. It’s like everyone has already moved on, despite it being a funeral reception. Only my family and I are left to mourn.

The room is cold and barren, with fluorescent lights overhead. There’s no warmth here, and why should there be? It’s a funeral, after all.

We stand in a line from oldest to youngest as the guests give us their condolences. I have to nod and smile at these men despite how sad I am. They expect it. I’ll be labeled a bitch or difficult if I don’t smile. That’s how Mafia men can be. It gave me hope that my dad was different and that he was teaching Antonio to be different. But now that Dad’s gone, I can only worry.

Franco approaches us, grabbing my mom’s hands before she can even react. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Giulia. I can tell how hard this is on you.”

She tries to pull her hands back, but he holds on. “It must be hard for you, too. Riccardo was your brother.”

“He was. But he was your husband. I hope you’ll do well on your own. You’re still young. You have many more years of childbearing. It’s a shame you’ll have to waste it.”

I stare at Franco hard. That’s such a horrible thing to say to my mother. But she doesn’t reply. She just smiles stiffly.

It’s Gemma who replies. “Why the fuck would you say that to her?”

“Gemma,” Moms scolds again. “Language. And don’t.”

“Yes,” Franco says, letting my mom’s hands go. “Don’t. Children should be seen and not heard.”

Gemma stands up taller. “I’m sixteen. Not a child.”

“Mmm. You still are in so many ways.” Franco’s eyes land on me. “But Emilia here is finally an adult. How does it feel?”

“It feels fine,” I respond.

“Right.” He gives me a once over before turning back to Giulia. “If you ever need anything, give me a call.”

Mom nods shakily. Franco gives her a wink before strolling away.

“Are you ok?” I ask.

“I will be. I have to be.”

I stare at my mom for a few seconds longer. Even though what Franco said was disgusting, he was right about one thing. My mom is still young. She’s only in her late thirties, having had me when she was eighteen. I can’t imagine becoming a mother yet. I feel like I have so much more to learn.

My dad was significantly older than her, but it never seemed to affect their marriage. I wonder how much older my husband will be.

After we finish accepting everyone’s condolences, Mom stands before the group of people. “I wasn’t able to speak at the ceremony, but … now, I feel more able to.” Her face is red from crying. It doesn’t diminish her beauty in any way. Her blonde hair still manages to sparkle in the sunlight streaming through the window. Her blue eyes look like their shining even more after all of her tears. The men in the crowd are captivated by her.

“Riccardo was my world,” she continues. “He was a strong leader. And now, it’s up to my son, Antonio, to take over.” She motions for Antonio to come stand by her. He’s like a little male version of her, just as pale and blond. She pulls something out of her purse. It’s a pendant with a wolf crest on it. The crest of my family. Antonio’s eyes light up at the sight of it.

“Is that dad’s?” he asks, his voice still small and squeak. Puberty hasn’t quite hit him yet.

“It is. And now, it’s yours.” She puts the pendant around his neck. “Be a strong leader like your father.”

Antonio stands up taller. “I will.”

I look over at the crowd and notice how Franco’s face looks pinched as he watches the exchange between my mother and brother.

The rest of the day passes in a blur. It’s a relief when we all finally go home. But the minute I step through our front door of our brownstone, I feel like I’m slapped in the face. Dad is officially not coming back home.

I kick off my shoes and shuffle over the couch, plopping down onto it. Gemma joins me. Antonio is showing Cecilia his pendant, the two of them whispering as they walk up the stairs to their respective rooms.

Mia snuggles in next to Giulia on the other couch. Francesca tentatively approaches our mom. “Could you help me undo my zipper?”

Mom doesn’t respond.

“Mom?” Francesca repeats.

“Mom,” I say, nodding at Francesca.

Giulia blinks, and her eyes zero in on Francesca. “Oh. I didn’t see you there. What did you need?”

“My zipper?” Francesca asks.

Mom sighs, hugging Mia in closer. “What? I’m too tired right now to help with anything.”

Francesca looks like she’s about to cry all over again.

“Here.” I say to her. “I got it.” I unzip the back of her dress, and she gives me a small nod of thanks before rushing off to her bedroom. “You shouldn’t ignore Francesca, Mom.”

“I wasn’t.” She plays with Mia’s hair. “She’s just so quiet; I didn’t even notice her at first.”

“That’s because you can be such a bitch to her,” Gemma mutters.

Mom shoots a glare at Gemma. “I’ve had enough with your attitude, Gemma. Either sit there and be quiet or go to your room.”

Gemma gives the biggest eye roll that only sixteen-year-olds can manage before standing up and dramatically trudging out of the room.

“What now?” I ask Mom.

“Now, it’s time to talk about your marriage.”

I sit up straighter, clearing my throat. I knew this day was coming. “Ok.”

“Your father and I made you a match before he died.” She starts braiding Mia’s hair. “The moment he found out he was sick, he began making arrangements to guarantee a good alliance to further ensure our family’s power. Now that Riccardo is gone, anyone can swoop in and take his place.”

“But Antonio—”

She cuts me off. “Antonio is only twelve. I put on a show by giving him his father’s pendant, but that pendant won’t protect him. Any one of your father’s men can decide to take all of this for himself. We’re not safe.”

Mia whirls around. “We’re not safe?”

Mom sighs and kisses the top of her head. “Sweetheart, go to your room. Emilia and I need to discuss some things.”

“But I don’t want to be alone.”

“I know, but this is grown up talk. I need a moment with your sister.”

Mia pouts as she gets up.

“I’ll read you a bedtime story,” I promise her. She smiles slightly before leaving.

“I just can’t deal with any of that at the moment,” Mom says, more to herself than me.

“It’s ok. I’ll check on everyone after we’re done talking.” I’m used to checking on my siblings anyway. It’s nothing new.

She gives me a grateful smile. “Thank you for that.”

“So, this marriage alliance …”

“Right. Your father made an alliance with a man named Marco Aldi. He’s the ruler of the Italian Mafia in Los Angeles.”

I blink. “LA? No one ever said I’d have to move to marry. I can’t leave you and the family.”

“I know. But you must.” She reaches over and grabs my hands. “Emilia. This is the marriage your father made for you. Everything is already planned, and it’s being put into place as we speak.”

“You mean … the wedding is already planned?”

“Yes. I bought you a dress. I think you’ll like it.”

“Why wasn’t I included in any of this?”

“Because your father’s sickness came on fast. We didn’t have much time. We planned everything. Marco knows you’ll be coming to marry him in a few days. He was notified the moment your dad died. He’s expecting you on Friday.” Friday is just two days away.

“So, I’m just supposed to show up and marry a man I’ve never met?”

“Yes. You won’t get the chance to meet him before the wedding. We need this to happen as soon as possible before anyone can try and hurt us here. If you’re married to a powerful man like Marco Aldi, we will be protected.”

“I’ve never even heard of this man.”

“I know. Your father has had many business dealings with him in the past, but he never mentioned him to you because you didn’t need to know every part of his business. Just trust me when I say that Marco is the most powerful man on the West Coast.”

“But if he lives in LA, how can he offer our family protection in New York?”

“His reach extends far. And this alliance will merge our families’ power. This is for the best. Trust me.”

“I do. And I knew this was coming. It’s just scary thinking about leaving you all behind.”

“I know.” She cups my cheek. “You’ve always been the strong one in our family. You’ve always been strong for me. By doing this, you’ll be protecting us, as you’ve always done.”

The doorbell rings.

Mom frowns. “I wasn’t expecting anyone.”

“Neither was I.”

We walk to the door together and open it, revealing Franco on our doorstep.

“Hello, Giulia, Emilia. May I come in?”

Mom and I share a look that clearly states we don’t want to let Franco inside, but we’re supposed to be polite Mafia women. If a man shows up on your doorstep, you let him in.

Mom opens the door wider for him, and he strolls on in like he owns the place. He even has the audacity to sit on the couch and put his boots on the coffee table. I can tell Mom wants to tell him off, but she keeps her mouth shut.

“Franco, what is it you need?” Mom and I sit on the other couch, still clasping hands.

“Just to tell you that I’ll be taking over in Antonio’s place, at least until he’s old enough to rule on his own.”

This is what my mom warned me about. I just wasn’t expecting for it to happen literally an hour after my father’s funeral.

“My son can rule just fine,” Giulia says.

Franco gives her a condescending look. “We both know he can’t. He’s too young. He’ll need guidance, and I can offer that.”

“You say this is just temporary.”

Franco sniffs as he shifts in his seat. “Yes. Just temporary. Until Antonio is at least eighteen. You know this is a good idea. I already talked to my men, and they agree with me.”

Mom’s hand tightens around mine. “You mean Riccardo’s men. They’re not yours.”

“They are now,” he says casually like he’s discussing the weather.

“No, they’re not,” I cut in. “They’re Antonio’s men.”

Franco checks his watch like he can’t even bother to give me his attention. “Then why wasn’t Antonio at this meeting, hmm? I didn’t see him there. I was there, and I took the role of leader of the Italian Mafia. Simple as that.”

“You know damn well that Antonio was here mourning the loss of our dad,” I spit out.

Mom doesn’t scold me for my language, for which I’m grateful. “You had no right to do this, Franco.”

“But I did it anyway. And as I said, it’s only temporary. I will pass the baton over to Antonio when he’s eighteen. But then then, I figured I’d move in with you.”

“Why?” Mom asks.

“Because you need a man around this house. It’s not good for all these girls to be running around wild, now, is it? This way, I can keep an eye on all of you. As the newly appointed boss, it’s for the best. Riccardo would have wanted you cared for, after all.”

“And you can do that?” I ask dubiously.

“I can.” He either ignores my tone or doesn’t pick up on it. “I already have movers coming over now with my things. I’ll take the master bedroom.”

“But that’s my room,” Mom hisses.

Franco just smiles.

Mom sits back in her seat, and I angle myself in front of her. “I’ll be married soon,” I tell Franco. “And my new husband will have a lot of power.”

“I imagine so. Whoever he is will help bring even more power to our family. To me. And in fact, I already thought of a marriage match for you. Giuseppe Ferrari. He’s quite a bit older, but he has a lot of money. He’ll make a good match for you.”

“My father already made a match for me. I’ll be marrying him in—”

Mom grabs my arm, cutting me off. “Giuseppe Ferrari sounds like a good choice.”

I frown at her. She doesn’t meet my gaze.

Franco nods. “I thought so. Now, it’s been a long day. I’ll see myself to my new room.” He walks up the stairs, not even asking permission.

I turn to my mom. “What about the marriage match that Dad made?”

“That is still on. I’m not marrying you off to whoever Franco chooses. Giuseppe Ferrari? Ugh. He’s almost seventy years old. I want my kids to make good marriage matches, but I’m not going to subject you to that. Trust me. You’re still going to marry Marco. We just need to leave for LA and get you married before Franco can stop it.”

“Will Marco be able to kick out Franco?”

She’s silent for a moment. “Maybe not. We might be stuck with him until Antonio does come of age. But at least you’ll have a powerful husband that your father chose and not Franco. If Franco chooses your husband, you’ll always be in his pocket, and I’m not letting that happen.”

A thought occurs to me. “Mom, you said you wouldn’t marry me to Giuseppe because he’s old. How old is Marco? I know nothing about this man either, other than that Dad chose the match.”

“He’s thirty. So older than you, but not exorbitantly so.”

“What does he look like?”

She pauses. “Uh … actually, I’m not sure. He likes to keep to himself a lot. I’ve never seen him, and your father never described him to be. He’s sort of a mystery. I only know he’s rich, rules LA, and your father chose him. That’s good enough for me. It will have to be good enough for you.”

“I have no choice in the matter. I never had.”

“That’s how life is for a woman born into the Mafia. None of us gets a choice. But when an opportunity presents itself, we take it. And you do have a choice now. Either Giuseppe or Marco. Franco or your father.”

“When you put it like that, it’s an easy choice. I know my duty, Mom, and I’m prepared to follow through. I’m prepared to help take care of our family.” I’ve been doing it most of my life. This isn’t any different.

“Now, we just need to get you married.”

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