(VINCENZO'S POV)

I woke to the sound of rustling. Through half-opened eyes, I saw a woman frantically gathering clothes from the floor.

She's beautiful even in this panicked state. Dark brown hair tumbling over bare shoulders as she struggled into her dress.

I should say something before she disappears.

"Morning," I offered, my voice rough with sleep.

She froze like a startled deer, clutching her dress to her chest. "Hi," she greeted tightly. "I was just...leaving."

I sat up, trying to look less intimidating. "Without saying goodbye?"

Her eyes narrow slightly. I must have said something wrong, though I'm not sure what. "I have somewhere to be," she said, fumbling with her zipper.

"I didn't catch your name last night," I admitted.

"Marianna," she answered, not meeting my eyes.

"Vin," I replied, though she didn't ask. "What's the rush? We don't know each other"

Something shifted in her expression. She reached into her clutch, pulled out her wallet, and before I understood what's happening, she tossed two hundred-dollar bills onto the bed.

"That won't be necessary," she said coldly. "This should cover everything." The bills land on my chest.

For a moment, I can't process what's happening. Then it hits me.

"What the hell is this?" I demanded, holding up the money.

"For your services," she replied, zipping her dress. "Isn't that how this works?" I'm out of bed instantly, irritation raging inside me.

"I'm not a goddamn escort!"

"Could have fooled me," she snapped, grabbing her purse. "Thanks for the night. Let's not do it again."

Before I can respond, she's gone, the door slamming behind her. I stood there, uncovered and furious, the crumpled bills in my fist.

Did she really think I was some kind of... hired companion?

I wanted to chase after her, set this ridiculous misunderstanding straight, but what would be the point? She clearly made up her mind about what happened here.

As I turned to head for the shower, something caught my eye beneath the bed. A delicate silver bracelet with a sapphire charm. Must be hers.

I picked it up, the metal cool against my palm. Probably means something to her. My phone rang from the nightstand. Scott's calling.

"What?" I seethed.

"Reminding you about the Poldstone meeting in one hour. Your father specifically asked me to ensure you'll be there." he replied, unfazed.

Missing it would be corporate suicide, especially with the merger negotiations underway.

"I'll be there," I promised, already calculating how fast I can shower and dress. I ended the call and looked again at the bracelet in my hand.

I should throw it away after how she treated me. Instead, I tucked it carefully in my pocket before heading to the shower.

My family doesn't tolerate tardiness, especially my father. But even as hot water pounded against my back, my mind kept returning to the woman who thought I had to be paid for.

Marianna. Is she who I think it is?

By the time I arrived the Poldstone investors were already seated in the conference room. It's three minutes before the meeting is scheduled to begin.

My father noticed my entrance with the barest flicker of acknowledgment, which, for Victor Lombardo, is practically a warm welcome.

I took my seat at his right hand, as tradition dictates. The next in line after the heir apparent. I looked around for my elder brother, he wasn't even in this meeting.

I nodded respectfully to Mr. Oswald and his associates before opening my portfolio. The meeting proceeded with the usual dance of numbers, projections, and veiled threats disguised as business concerns.

Two hours later, contracts got signed and the Poldstone delegation filed out. My father remained seated, his expression unreadable as he reviews the signed documents.

"Your tie is crooked," he started without looking up. I adjusted it silently, waiting for the real criticism. "You were nearly late."

"I arrived with time to spare," I countered carefully.

"Three minutes is not 'time to spare,' Vincenzo. It's cutting it close." He finally looked at me, icy blue eyes identical to my own. "The Kingwicke meeting is tonight. I expect you to be better prepared."

My stomach tightened. "The Kingwickes? I thought that was next month."

"They moved it up."

"Wait! Why are you telling me?"

He closed his portfolio with a snap. "My office. Now."

I followed my father closely behind him as we headed to his office where I noticed a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair stands by the window, drinking my father's private-reserve scotch.

"Vin," my father called me, "you remember Don Santino."

I do.

The head of the Santino crime family, our oldest ally in a city carved up by rival organizations.

"Don Santino," I greeted him with appropriate respect, shaking his hand firmly.

"The boy has grown into a man," Santino observed, clapping my shoulder. "Last time I saw you, you were graduating business school."

"Over a decade ago," I confirmed. "A lot has changed."

"Not enough," my father interjected. "We have a situation. All rival families have doubled their territories in the last six months."

I absorbed this information silently. Our family may operate legitimate businesses now, but our roots are deep in the underworld.

We've maintained our position through strategic alliances rather than street warfare, but things are clearly shifting.

"The old agreements are breaking down," Santino added, swirling his scotch. "Everyone is restless."

The nine families are the oldest, most powerful organizations in the city. Mine included.

"What does this have to do with the Kingwickes?" I asked, though I'm beginning to suspect the answer. My father exchanged a glance with Santino.

"The Kingwickes has the upper hand in our grand plan. A partnership with them would solidify our position for the next decade."

"And by partnership, you mean...?"

"His granddaughter is of marriageable age," my father said bluntly. "A union between our families would be beneficial to all parties."

I stared at him, ice forming in my veins. "You're arranging a marriage for me?"

"I'm creating an opportunity," he corrected. "The meeting is tonight, make a good impression. This is our last resort"

"What is this really about, father?" and he told me "Is marriage the only way for this?" I asked and watched him nod his head, then his expression hardened.

"This isn't about what you want. It's about everything we've built. Don't blow this for us, Vincenzo."

Santino watched this exchange with the detached interest of a man observing pieces being moved on a chessboard.

"The Kingwicke girl is beautiful," he offered, as if that made a difference. "Educated. Speaks four languages. You could do worse."

I wanted to argue, to refuse, but I know the rules of our world. Family comes first. Always.

"I'll be there," I said finally. "Properly prepared."

My father nodded, satisfied. "Good. Don't disappoint me again."

As I left his office, I felt the weight this heavy expectations on my shoulders. I'm not going to completely take control of everything but somehow, I'm always the one receiving all the bullshits.

My first love and fiancée went after my elder brother when she found out he was the next don and not me.

The other encounters? Can't remember, I found myself thinking inexplicably of the woman from last night. Marianna. A brief escape from the reality of who I am and what's expected of me.

I touched the sapphire bracelet in my pocket, wondering if I'll ever see her again.

I prepared for tonight's meeting like I promised my father and we arrived at the private dining room in the Kingwickes hotel that has been reserved exclusively for tonight's meeting.

"Vin," my father beckoned me over. "Meet Edward Kingwicke."

I shook his hand firmly. "A pleasure, Mr. Kingwicke."

"The pleasure is mine. May I introduce my son, Joseph, my daughter-in-law, Martha, and their daughters, Marianna and Sophia."

“Please, call me Joe” his son chipped in.

Martha Kingwicke is elegant in that old-money way, pearls at her throat, silver-streaked hair in a perfect chignon.

Sophia is classically beautiful, blonde and poised, with calculating eyes that assessed me as thoroughly as I assessed her.

“Marianna?” I thought. Who could she be? I turned, prepared to offer another practiced greeting, and froze.

Standing there, looking equally stunned, is Marianna.

Her eyes widened in recognition, color draining from her face before a flush replaced it.

She's transformed from the disheveled woman of this morning, now wrapped in emerald silk, hair elegantly styled, diamond drops at her ears.

She's a Kingwicke!

"Vincenzo Lombardo," I managed to say, extending my hand mechanically.

Her fingers were cold as they briefly touched mine. "Marianna," she Introduced herself, her voice controlled but strained.

My father watched this exchange with narrow-eyed interest. Don Santino looked amused, though he couldn't possibly understand the magnitude of this disaster.

The woman my family planned for me is Sophia Kingwicke. But the woman standing before me is her sister, Marianna Kingwicke.

And I'm still carrying her sapphire bracelet in my pocket.