Page 18 of Wicked Sinner

“Good, as far as I’m concerned.” I shrug. “A mafia don needs an heir. It wasn’t planned, but I like her. I liked her from the first night I met her. And she’s a hell of a lot better, in my opinion, than any of the glossy mafia princesses that keep getting paraded in front of me.”

“So, what’s the problem?” Danny chuckles. “She is not as big a fan of you as you are of her?”

“At the moment?” My jaw tightens. “No.”

“What’d you do?” Danny grins at me, expecting something stupid, I’m sure. I let out a sharp breath, feeling a stab of guilt over how I’ve handled the whole situation.

"I may have been a little... forceful in my approach."

Danny’s eyes narrow. “Forceful how, Caesar?”

“I brought her home with me. She wasn’t exactly… willing.”

“Caesar.” Danny’s gaze turns disapproving, a little shocked. Maybe he’s not as nonjudgmental as I thought he’d be after all. “Fucking hell, man. I know you’re mafia and all, but making women do things they don’t wanna do—”

"She's carrying my child," I cut him off. "My heir. I'm not going to leave her unprotected while I figure out how to navigate the politics of taking over my father's territory. Or risk her running and taking my child with her."

"So you kidnapped her."

The word hits like a slap, even though it's exactly what Bridget called it. "I brought her somewhere safe."

"Against her will."

"For her own good."

Danny stares at me for a long moment, then shakes his head. "Jesus, Caesar. You've been back in this world for five minutes, and you're already acting like one of them."

"One of what?"

"The entitled pricks who think they can take whatever they want just because they have the power to do it." Danny leans forward, his expression serious. "That's not who you used to be, man. You used to hate that shit."

The accusation stings because there's truth in it. I did hate it once. Hated the way my father and his associates treated people like possessions, like pawns in their games. I still hate it. It's part of why I ran in the first place. It wasn’t just the responsibility—it was the politics. The games that everyone in the mafia plays with other people’s lives.

I didn’t want to get caught up in all of it.

"I'm not my father," I say quietly, my voice tight.

Danny shakes his head. "No? Then why are you acting like him?"

I want to argue, to defend my actions, but the words stick in my throat. Because maybe Danny has a point. Maybe I am acting like the man I once despised.

"She doesn't understand," I say instead. "She has no idea what kind of world she's stepped into. The kind of people who would use her to get to me. How important she is to me now—"

"So explain it to her. Like a normal person. Don't lock her up like a fucking prisoner."

I huff out a sharp breath. "You haven’t met Bridget. I tried explaining. She wouldn't listen."

"Can you blame her?" Danny takes another drink, studying me over the rim of his glass.

"Think about it from her perspective, Caesar.

Some rich asshole shows up, fucks her, and disappears.

Then three weeks later, he shows up again and drags her away from everything she knows.

How exactly did you think she was going to react? "

When he puts it like that, I can almost see Bridget's point. Almost. But it doesn't change the fundamental reality of the situation.

"My child needs protection," I say firmly. "She needs protection. Whether she understands that or not."

"Your child," Danny repeats. "She’s pregnant? Holy shit, that makes this all so much worse. Listen to yourself, man. You sound like you're talking about property."

"It's my heir," I snap. "It’s important. If I married one of the women Konstantin is throwing at me, the first priority would be making an heir. And now I have one, with a woman I actually like—"

“Doesn’t sound like you’re treating her as if you like her.

” Danny shrugs. “Look, I don’t know anything about all that mafia shit.

I lead a simple life, and I like it that way.

That’s what you wanted too, back in the day.

Now you’re back, and you’re getting tangled up in all their bullshit.

Is this really what you want?” He sets his glass down, looking at me intently.

“Why don’t you just walk away? Let them do whatever they want with your father’s shit. I’m sure you’ve got plenty of money.”

“It’s not about money.” I run my hand through my hair. “It’s about proving a point. My father thought I couldn’t handle this. That I wasn’t worthy of being his heir any longer.”

“So you’re gonna… what? Screw up your chances with this woman to prove a point?”

“That’s different—”

“I don’t know if you can be both, man.” Danny leans back in the booth with a sigh. “I don’t know if you can be a guy who lives on your own terms and be wrapped up in all that mafia shit. Someone you care about is gonna get hurt. And it seems like right now, you’re doing the hurting.”

“I thought I was going to get a friendly ear,” I gripe, finishing off my beer. “Not a lecture.”

“A good friend tells you how it is.” Danny looks at me from across the booth. “I’m still your friend, Caesar. And I don’t want to see you make the kind of mistakes that will fuck things up permanently for you.”

I nod. Deep down, I appreciate it—having a friend who isn’t wrapped up in all of this—even if I’m only feeling worse right now about how this entire situation has spun out of my control.

We sit for a little longer, catching up, before I pay for my drinks and his. “Don’t be a stranger,” Danny tells me before heading to his car, a ‘74 Nova in light blue that looks like he put a ton of work into it. I follow him over, admiring the car before heading back to my Ferrari to go back home.

For once, the sight of it doesn’t send a jolt of arousal through me. I had no idea what I was starting that night when I drove to Bridget’s garage. No idea who I would run into. I ended up seducing her because it felt inevitable the moment I laid eyes on her, like I had to have her.

Now I do, and yet she’s the furthest thing from mine. I’m alienating her more with every hour she stays in that room, but I don’t know what the fuck else I’m supposed to do.

If I let her go, she’ll run. If I keep her, she’ll hate me and fight me until…

She can’t hate me forever. I keep holding onto that, trying to believe it, but it feels like my certainty is slipping further and further away.

As I drive home, I can’t help but wonder if I’ve fucked everything up.

—

The next morning, I have a meeting with Konstantin, but my focus is far from where it needs to be. I checked on Bridget several times yesterday, noticing that she only picked at her meals. When I reminded her that she needs to eat, she tried to slap me again.

I can tell she’s not sleeping well, though, thankfully, she’s asleep when I bring her breakfast. I quietly leave the room again, not wanting to wake her, at a loss for how to get us to move forward.

I need her to agree to a marriage, and I need her to understand that this is the best option for her and for our child.

I’m just not sure how.

I head to Konstantin’s, where I find him and Tristan in his office waiting on me. My mood instantly plummets the moment I see Tristan sitting there.

“Is he going to be present for all of our meetings?” I ask flatly, and Konstantin eyes me, clearly not impressed with my feelings on the matter.

“He’s a part of all of this too,” Konstantin says calmly. “Sit, Caesar. We need to discuss the dinner party. Specifically, how you’re feeling about the women you met. I think Catherine would be an excellent choice, but I’m open to hearing your opinions.”

I sit down, feeling the tension rippling through my body. “I have a development,” I say, as calmly as I can manage. “I’m not going to be marrying any of those women. I’ve found my wife.”

The silence that follows is tense and charged. The other two men exchange looks before Konstantin returns his ice-blue gaze to me, his eyes narrowed.

"Found her where?" he asks carefully.

I let out a breath. "It doesn't matter where. What matters is that she's pregnant with my child."

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Tristan’s eyebrows shoot up. “How pregnant?”

“Not very. But I’m sure of it. She took tests. I’ll have a doctor come to see her as soon as it’s possible.”

Konstantin’s expression is still unreadable. I can feel the shift in the room's atmosphere. "And this woman—who is she? What family is she from?"

“She’s not… mafia,” I admit, knowing that this isn’t going to make my argument any easier. “She's a mechanic. Owns a small shop outside the city.”

The temperature in the room seems to drop ten degrees. Konstantin and Tristan exchange a look that I don't like at all.

"A mechanic," Konstantin repeats slowly. "With no connections. No family alliances. No understanding of our world."

"She's carrying my heir," I say firmly. "That's all the connection she needs."

"No," Tristan says flatly. "It's not."

I turn to face him, feeling my temper start to rise. "Excuse me?"

"Caesar," Konstantin says, his voice taking on the patient tone one might use with a particularly slow child, "I understand the appeal of a pretty face. I can understand that you might like this woman, even care for her. I also understand that this might seem like a simple solution, but it isn’t. You know as well as I do that marriage in our world is about more than personal satisfaction. It’s about connections, and power. It’s about strengthening alliances and building on a foundation of what you’ve been left to inherit. She can give you none of that.”

“She’s giving me a child—”

“A bastard," Konstantin corrects coldly. "Because that's what it will be if you marry some nobody mechanic with grease under her fingernails."

The insult to Bridget makes my vision blur with rage, and I have to grip the arms of my chair to keep from lunging across the desk. "Watch your mouth."

"Or what?" Konstantin's smile is razor-thin. "You'll make me? Caesar, you're in no position to make threats. You've been back for a month, and you think you can dictate terms to someone who’s been running this city for decades?" He lets out a sharp breath. “Both Tristan and I made advantageous marriages. We married women we didn’t know and didn’t care for at the time to further our families’ futures. That those marriages turned out well is of no consequence. The beginning is what matters, and your beginning will be the same. Hopefully, with time, you’ll find the same love and passion in your union that we have. And if not—” He shakes his head. “It’s unfortunate, but you made the choice to come back. You know how this all works. It’s why you left in the first place, isn’t it?”

"I think I can make decisions about my own life and my own family."

"Your family," Tristan says, "includes every made man who's sworn loyalty to the Genovese name.

Every minor family who is waiting on decisions to be made about how the Genovese family moves forward.

Your choices affect all of them. And marrying some random woman with no connections weakens everyone. "

"She's not random," I snarl. "She's the mother of my child."

"Then pay her off," Konstantin says simply. "Give her enough money to disappear, to raise the kid quietly somewhere far away. Set up a trust fund if you want to be generous. But don't tie yourself to her permanently."

The suggestion hits me like a physical blow. "You're talking about my son."

Konstantin chuckles. “You don’t even know that she’s having your son.

Only that she’s pregnant. And she is not suitable.

Your position here is unstable, Caesar. Pushing forward with this will only make it worse.

If you insist on marrying this woman, if you try to legitimize this child, you'll create problems that will haunt you for years. "

“Marrying her legitimizes our child. That’s all that matters—”

“It’s not,” Tristan says, a patronizing note in his voice.

“You think the families will like the idea of following orders from someone whose son comes from nothing? Who will see their own heirs lower in rank than this kid? You don’t have the clout to pull this off, Caesar, not after you ran away and then came back twenty years later.

Maybe if you’d spent the last twenty years proving that you’re worthy of the role, but not now. Not like this.”

I stare at both men, trying to process what they're telling me. They want me to abandon Bridget, to abandon my child, to pretend none of this ever happened. The idea makes me physically sick.

"No," I say quietly.

"Caesar—"

"No," I repeat, louder this time. "I'm not abandoning my child. And I'm not abandoning the woman carrying it."

Konstantin sighs, looking genuinely disappointed. "Then you're making a mistake that will cost you everything your father built."

"Maybe," I say, standing up. "But it's my choice to make."

I know I’m pushing too far, too hard. That I’m making enemies I can’t afford to make.

But all I can see is red, all I can hear is my pulse pounding in my ears from listening to them sit here and insult Bridget, insist that I throw away the one thing I’ve found since I came home that I truly want. "My personal life is my own business."

"Not when it affects the greater organization," Konstantin says.

"And this affects all of us. Caesar, I'm going to give you some time to think about this.

To consider what you're really choosing here.

But understand—if you move forward with this marriage, you'll be doing it without our support.

And without our support, taking over your father's territory becomes much more difficult. "

The threat is clear, though unspoken. Fall in line, or lose everything.

“I’ll be in touch,” Konstantin says simply. “Think about what you’re doing, Caesar. She’s not worth losing it all.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Wouldn’t you risk everything for your wife?”

That strikes a nerve. I see his eyes pinch, his jaw tighten. “She’s not your wife yet,” Konstantin says simply. “I’ll be in touch.”

I know I’m dismissed. And frankly, I don’t want to spend another fucking second in the office with them anyway. I don’t bother shaking their hands, just give Konstantin a tight nod and stride out, back to the entrance of the mansion, where the valet is waiting.

A clock is ticking. I have to make a choice. And if I choose Bridget, I’ll be stepping into territory I know I’m not ready to navigate.

But I can’t just let her go.