“She isn’t a child.” Valerie Rossi sat on the edge of the small couch in the sitting room of their five star hotel room. The room her daughter took up matched theirs down to the replica paintings on the walls and the array of furniture made to look from a different time. She clutched a glass of water in her hands as she watched her husband pace.<br/><br/>“Then she needs to stop acting like one.” Marco’s fingers trembled around his own glass; this one boasting bourbon in the hopes his nerves could be calmed. “You raised a brat.”<br/><br/>The woman glared up at her husband, who hardly noticed his wife’s swell of anger. At one time, she’d been in love and would have done anything to please the powerful man. But that was so long ago and their world had eaten away at the bold Marco Rossi, leaving behind a man who loved his drink and woke up every morning certain that day would be his last.<br/><br/>“This is your fault, Marco.” Valerie went to her feet, setting the glass on the coffee table with a loud click. “Pawning her off like she’s some whore. For what? To save your sorry ass?”<br/><br/>The aging man reeled towards his wife, his face red from irritation and liquor. Over the course of the past few months, Valerie had lost all respect for him. To save himself from the enemies, the Rossi patriarch was seeking protection from Capo dei Capi. Essentially, the once deadly and powerful Boss of the Chicago Outfit was tucking his tail between his thighs and begging for help. Meanwhile, his once devoted wife was seeing him for what he really was — a coward.<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***​</div><br/>The sound of a glass shattering against the wall of her parents sitting room startled Aria. Her parents argued relentlessly and for a moment, she was certain whatever life she’d lead as a Cavelini had to be better than enduring this. Of course, that assessment was made when excluding the fact that Lazzaro Cavelini was one of the most feared men in the<i>famigila</i>. What she knew of him came from internet articles with shady sources and pure speculation by people who had never even met the man. He was the heir to an empire of crime built with money and blood. The Cavelini family had been on top for<br/><br/>He was handsome — strikingly so, but even handsome men could be stone cold monsters. Her mother insisted they couldn’t hold the actions of their men against them. Which seemed ridiculous considering the depth of their criminal activity and the blood that coated each one of their hands. Marco had done everything he could to shelter her from the realities of his<i>business</i>, but he always underestimated her. Far more perceptive than he understood and forced to mature beyond her years, he had inadvertently raised a young woman who knew exactly who she was. And worse, what they all were.<br/><br/>The young woman sat on the king-sized bed in the dark, illuminated by only the white glow of her laptop. The sun was beginning to set, but she was none the wiser, having shut herself in the room in an effort to escape her parents. But, she couldn’t ignore the severity of what was going to take place. Marriage to Lazzaro Cavelini felt like a death sentence. Her mother urged her to make the best of it. She was pretty and smart, and what man would be upset by having such a young, beautiful wife on his arm? Aria resisted the urge to show her mother the pictures she’d found of other women on that arm from only weeks earlier. What could he possibly want with her?<br/><br/>Yet, she wasn’t the defining factor. With Aria’s hand, the Cavelini’s gained Chicago and every Made Man who had sworn loyalty to her father.<br/><br/>“Aria?” Her mother’s voice filtered through the door before she turned the knob and hesitantly pushed it open. “Why are you sitting in the dark?” She flicked the light on just as Aria slapped the laptop closed. “You should already be dressed. A man like Lazzaro won’t appreciate having to wait.”<br/><br/>“Then cancel.”<br/><br/>Valerie shook her head. “You know I can’t do that. You’ve irritated your father enough as it is. Just do this. Meet him. Maybe he isn’t so bad. The wedding is in a few days — make the most of it.”<br/><br/>The young woman slid off the bed, moving towards the large walk-in closet where her few pieces of clothing and accessories had been laid out. Her father had complained about her two suitcases, insisting she was taking too much — as if she would be returning to their home in a Chicago. Her mother followed her, grabbing a black dress and pushing it towards her daughter.<br/><br/>“This one would be perfect. A black dress is never out of style. You want to impress him, don’t you?”<br/><br/>Aria scowled. First impressions were the least of her worries. She took the dress, more or less dragging it back to the bed while her mother shuffled around in the closet. The older woman came out with an arm full of other accessories and garb, beaming.<br/><br/>“You’ll need heels. You’re short enough to get away with it. And jewelry. Oh, and something pretty underneath.” She laid the pieces out over the coverlet, overly pleased with herself. “He’ll love it. If he doesn’t, he’s brain dead.”<br/><br/><div style="text-align: center">***​</div><br/>Dressed to her mother’s standard, Aria caught sight of herself in the mirrored windows of the hotels ground floor. The black dress came to just above her knees, hugging the gentle curves of an otherwise lithe form. Her light brown hair hung over one shoulder in soft waves and the makeup she applied was subtle and simple. Strappy black heels and understated jewelry finished off the look. While she could admire the young woman staring back at her, Aria couldn’t shake the bitterness that welled under the surface. Bright green eyes, proof that someone in her family strayed from an Italian bloodline, couldn’t hide the presence of fear.<br/><br/>“Try to not piss him off. He won’t be as forgiving as I have been all these years.” Her father had rambled off his version of fatherly advice after looking her over. While other men spent their time forcing modesty onto their young daughters, Marco Rossi was making sure his would pass muster with a man he was certain wanted only one thing from her. “Whatever he wants. Don’t forget it.”<br/><br/>And there it was. Confirmation that he was okay with selling her off to perform whatever duties another man saw it. Aria’s stomach rolled as she fought down nausea. Her mother sent the man one of her signature glares while remaining, suddenly, dutifully silent.<br/><br/>A dark car pulled up, allowing Aria the opportunity to wall away from her father as he continued his lecture on keeping the family’s secrets and spreading her thighs whenever Cavelini wanted her to. The driver hopped out and jogged around to the rear passenger door. “Ms Rossi.” Opening the door he held his hand out as if she may be in need of assistance with slipping into the leather seat.