Mafia Kings: Valentino: Dark Mafia Romance Series #6

The next couple of days were horrible.

I couldn’t leave the property; I couldn’t contact Cat; and I was about to lose all my freedom in just a few days.

The only thing that was even halfway comforting was Isabella.

I saw her and Ludavica often. I would run across both of them in the gardens as I paced, trying to keep my worry and hatred at bay. They were always reading, every single time.

Isabella looked up from her book with a compassionate wince. “Things pretty bad?”

“You have no idea,” I muttered.

“I’m sorry,” she said kindly.

I sat down on the bench next to her and Ludavica.

Since the whole conversation with Don Vicari about Your daughter doesn’t want to marry me, I noticed he’d become a lot more lax about chaperones breathing down our necks.

Or maybe it was because the wedding was just 72 hours away.

Six of one, half a dozen of the other.

“Your face is looking a lot better,” Isabella said.

“Thanks,” I mumbled.

It was nice of her to lie.

The right side of my face looked like a bad Halloween mask. The bruises had started to turn green and purple, and all the little cuts were scabbed over.

Okay… in reality, I’d looked a lot worse in years past. I’d gotten in a couple of fights when I was a teenager and come out with two black eyes. (You should’ve seen the other guys, though.)

I knew it would all eventually heal…

But I still felt like shit every time I looked in the mirror.

Cat’s going to think I’m the ugliest thing she’s ever seen.

But I knew that wasn’t true.

If anything, she would tell me I was still the hottest guy she’d ever seen. She was a sweetheart that way.

Thinking of Cat made me think of losing her –

And suddenly I felt worse than before.

Isabella misinterpreted my expression.

“Are you and my father… okay?” she asked hesitantly.

“No.”

“…oh.”

I thought about telling her what her father had said about her –

I couldn’t give a shit about my daughter. She’s the means to an end to get what I want.

But what would be the point? To make Isabella as miserable as me?

She’d had Don Vicari for a father all her life. That was punishment enough.

“Aren’t you upset?” I asked her.

She frowned. “Why would I be?”

“You’re gonna be forced to marry me in three days.”

She smiled. “I can think of worse fates.”

“I can’t,” Ludavica muttered as she stared at her book.

“Ha ha,” I said, not laughing – although it was pretty funny.

“Lu,” Isabella scolded her, then turned back to me. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I said with a half grin. “Even if she hates me, I kind of like her.”

Ludavica snorted.

“She’s not seeing the whole picture,” Isabella said. “Neither are you.”

“And what’s the whole picture?” I asked bitterly.

“I only got to leave this place a couple of times until you came along,” she said softly. “I’ve seen more in the last week than the rest of my life combined. I’m hoping that once we’re married, maybe – just maybe – we can get the freedom we both want. And deserve.”

“Not as long as your father has anything to say about it,” I grumbled.

“We’ll see,” she said cryptically. “We’ll see.”