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.