In a world full of high crime, honor and duty seem to fall suspiciously high on Natalia Rivera's list of needs. When she meets Prime Accardo, all of the pieces appear to fall in place.
TW- This book contains themes of torture and kidnapping/abducti...
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I was sitting at the corner of the bar, ignoring the looks from men who looked like they would catcall me if given the chance.
Aniya was already wasted and cheering on the random strangers doing karaoke. As the song ended she walked up to me. "You should go up there." Her words were slurred.
She slung her arm over my shoulder. "C'mon. Have some fun, Nat."
I stared at her. "You should go up there."
"I think I've had too much to drink." She slid into the chair beside me.
"Yes, I'm aware. You're going to be dead tomorrow."
"Emi wants a son." She rolled her eyes. "This is my last night of freedom before we have to start trying."
I frowned. "Something tells me you don't want that."
"I never wanted kids. Hell, if Emi decided to send Giulia to boarding school I'd pack her bags tonight. I don't want more." She finished off the drink in her hand. "But I don't have a say in that. I'm already that Rivera. I'd rather not be known as Emilio Romano's first wife."
I stared at her. "Did you tell him that?"
She laughed. "That's not the world we live in, Natalia."
She was right. We were the women of the mafia.
We were expected to marry someone with a high ranking in the mafia. Someone with power, then expected to be a perfect wife, seen not heard, cooking, cleaning, and child-bearing.
My mother always said we married the title, not the man.
My mother also said that happiness was rare for women like us.
My mother married for love. She should be one of the happy ones.
She is not.
I realized I'd been staring out the window for a while. I turned to look at Aniya but she was gone. I found her on the stage.
I watched her drunkenly slur her way through Dancing Queen and continued questioning my life choices, then a very familiar man walked through the door. I ordered a shot of vodka.
In the doorway stood 6'5 Prime Accardo, wearing tight jeans a white shirt, and a brown leather jacket. His jet black curly hair was perfectly groomed and his green eyes surveyed the bar as if looking for something, or someone.
