Page 4 of Forgive Me, Father

Simi had always been a slut.I’d always known she was sexually active.She was wild and reckless, and sorry, she’d just crossed that line.

Her family was nothing but smoke and mirrors, pretenders wrapped in silk, clinging to a title they never earned.But I saw through the act.Always had.

It burned me, the way they walked into rooms like they owned them.As if bloodlines could be bought.

Our marriage had been inked into existence long before either of us had a voice in it.It wasn’t love.It was strategy.A merger.Our family’s hotel enterprise folded into their construction enterprise, neat as a ledger entry.

On paper, it was gold.A perfect front: missile routes buried beneath luxury resorts, hidden in plain sight under the cover of their import-export trade.

Together, we would’ve built something untouchable.A dynasty.

But she torched it.Carelessly.Stupidly.And now, all that potential burned to ash before it ever had a chance to catch fire.

And all because she couldn’t keep her fucking legs closed.

I was supposed to be in New York today, standing in front of a gilded altar, binding my life to hers in a ceremony planned down to the second.

Instead, I was in California, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse.

The reason?A thirty-second video.

It hit my phone two nights ago.No message.No warning.Just her caught in a moment she could never take back.After that, there was no flight.No suit.No vows.Just silence and the cold rage that had kept me in this chair ever since.

Think Alfonso, think.The girl was groomed to look the other way.Fuck that.A deep growl pushed through my lips.She fucked everything.Fuck!

My Nonno’s list of ultimatums echoed in my mind like a prayer carved in stone.I loosened the top button of my shirt.For the first time, I didn’t have a plan.No angle.No out.Just a wall I couldn’t punch through.

I needed a wife.

He hadn’t said I had to love her.Didn’t care if I cherished her, respected her, or even looked at her twice.Just that I had one.A name to put on paper.A body to stand beside mine.

I exhaled slowly, the breath heavy with something I didn’t want to name.

And an heir.Always a fucking heir.

FUCK IT!

I’d get married.The shares Nonno left me would be signed over today.But it would happen on my terms.No strings.No sentiment.And if I had to pay for the bride to make it happen?So be it.

I was done with Simi Deluca and her cheap whoring ass.She was supposed to stay intact for me.Hell, every other woman raised the Don’s way had managed to do it, so why couldn’t she?

The door opened, and Nico Bellantini entered.

He stood a full head shorter than me, his bulky frame trimmed by messy blond hair that curled over his ears.Dressed in his sharp three-piece suit, part of the uniform that came with being my right hand, always by my side.He looked the part.

People assumed he was my bodyguard.It was almost laughable, considering I towered over him, but no one dared to question the image we projected.

“Is there anything I can do for you, boss?”

“Yes, find me a bride,” I spoke harshly in Italian, my irritation bleeding through my usual unreadable demeanor.

“Sorry?”

“I’m not marrying Simi.Find me a bride to marry today.”

“Who?”His face painted a picture of pure horror.I’d never asked him anything that would be woven this tightly into my life.That was how much I trusted him.Fuck, if I could marry him, I probably would.It certainly would make my life a hell of a lot easier.

“Anyone who looks desperate for a husband.Just find me a bride.”