The Mafia King Wants Me, Not My Sister

Reyna’s POV

“You’re getting married to Don Costa Duriolo in two weeks. Start making preparations.”

For several seconds, I can only stare at my father, waiting for him to laugh or admit that he’s joking.

He does neither.

“No. That’s not possible!” I finally manage. “You can’t just marry me off to a stranger like that, Father!”

“But I just did, daughter.” He barely reacts to my outburst. “And Costa isn’t a stranger. He’s been working with our family for over twenty-five years. He’s loyal, trustworthy, and—”

“Twenty-five years?” I interrupt, my disbelief growing. “Then how old is he?”

I’d heard of my father working with several powerful men in the criminal underworld, but I’d never paid much attention to them. He had never involved me in his business dealings, and I had no desire to become part of his shady affairs.

My father looks up at me.

“He’s sixty-four years old.”

For a moment, I genuinely forget how to breathe.

Sixty-four.

My father says it so casually that I almost wonder if he’s telling me the age of a bottle of wine instead of the man he expects me to marry.

I stare at him, waiting for him to laugh at his own joke. He just stares back at me.

“You’re surely joking.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you must have lost your fucking mind!”

“Reyna!” His voice booms so loudly that my ears ring.

“What?” I throw my hands in the air. “You expect me to marry a man who’s old enough to be my grandfather, and I’m supposed to sit here smiling like you’ve just given me a birthday present?”

My father puts down the document he’s been examining and fixes me with the look that has frightened half the people in this house into silence.

Unfortunately for him, I’ve never been intimidated by him no matter how much he punished me.

“You will watch your language when speaking to me.”

“And you’ll stop treating me like a piece of property you can sell to the highest bidder!”

His expression darkens. I can practically see the moment he decides that I’ve spoken too much.

“Don Costa Duriolo is a respected man. He’s wealthy, influential, and has been loyal to this family for over twenty-five years. You should consider yourself fortunate that a man of his standing is willing to marry you.”

I actually burst into laughter because if I don’t, I might start screaming.

“Fortunate? Father, he’s sixty-four! What exactly am I supposed to do with a sixty-four-year-old husband? Hold his hand on his way to the pharmacy? Will I be expected to feed him his medication every morning? Should I start learning how to operate one of those machines that check blood pressure? Because if this is what my future looks like, I would appreciate it if somebody gave me a proper job description!”

“Enough.”

“No, it’s not enough!” I shoot back. “You don’t get to decide that my life is over simply because you need money!”

The words escape before I can stop them. For the first time since this conversation began, my father goes completely still.

And I know caught him. Money. That has to be it.

My father has spent years making sure everyone believes our family is untouchable. We have a mansion, expensive cars, security guards, and enough designer furniture to furnish three houses.

But lately, things have been different. His business meetings have become more frequent. My father’s temper has grown shorter. I’ve overheard conversations that things aren’t as smooth as before. 

And now he’s trying to marry me off to a man old enough to be my grandfather.

I fold my arms.

“How bad is it?”

His eyebrows draw together. “What?”

“Your financial situation. How bad is it that you’re willing to sacrifice your own daughter to fix it?”

“Watch your mouth, Reyna.”

“Answer the question, father.”

He rises from his chair. Most people would probably take that as their cue to shut up but I take it as confirmation that I’m actually right.

“You’re marrying me off because Costa is going to lend you money, aren’t you?”

My father’s silence answers me. 

Unbelievable. I press a hand against my chest. “Oh, my God. You actually are.”

“This is a necessary arrangement that will benefit everyone involved.”

“Everyone except me!”

His face turns a dangerous shade of red. I should probably stop. I know I should. But watching him make decisions about my entire future without even considering my feelings makes it impossible for me to keep my mouth shut.

“Let me guess,” I continue. “This is all for Isabella, isn’t it?”

His expression changes slightly, but I notice. I always do.

“Isabella has nothing to do with this.”

“Really? Then why am I suddenly expected to marry an old man when she’s preparing to marry some young mafia heir?”

My father looks shocked. Of course he didn’t think I would know about it. Two weeks ago, Isabella had come to me, gloating about a rumor that father had secured an arrangement with a handsome, popular and powerful man. I can’t remember the name she called him and I didn’t care to ask because I want nothing to do with those mafia people. 

But now, my father wants to sell me to one of those evil people. My father stays silent and that gives me the answer I was looking for.

I shake my head slowly. “This is unbelievable.”

“Isabella’s marriage is an important alliance for this family. Your marriage to Costa will provide the financial support we need because we can’t afford to show that we’re having financial difficulties.”

I stare at him. I genuinely can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“Then let Isabella marry the old man! Why must I be sacrificed??”

My father slams his palm against the desk.

“REYNA!” 

His shout echoes through the room. I flinch before I can stop myself, but I immediately straighten my shoulders.

He glares at me, breathing heavily. “Have you completely forgotten who you’re speaking to?”

“No. You’re my father.” My voice trembles, but I refuse to let him see how much this hurts. “That’s the only reason I’m still standing here listening to you.”

His eyes narrow. “You will marry Costa in two weeks. The arrangements have already been made, and I will not tolerate any more of this disrespect.”

I swallow the lump in my throat. He has already arranged everything. He has decided where I’ll live, whom I’ll marry, and what the rest of my life will look like without bothering to ask me what I want.

And he expects me to accept it.

Well, he can go to hell.

“You can make all the arrangements you want, Father,” I tell him, forcing a smile that feels more like a grimace. “You can invite every crime lord in New York to watch the wedding.”

I take a step toward him.

“But I am not marrying that man.”

His face twists with anger. “Reyna Valenti!!! you will do as you’re told!”

“No.”

The word comes out strong even though I’m trembling.

“No?” he repeats.

“That’s right. No.” I lift my chin. “I’m twenty-three years old, not twelve. You don’t get to sell me off because your business is failing. If you want Costa’s money so badly, marry him yourself!”

The silence that follows is deafening. For one glorious second, I feel almost proud of myself.

Then my father roars my name.

“REYNA!”

The sound makes me jump. I turn before he can say anything else. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing the tears gathering in my eyes.

“Get back here!”

I keep walking.

“Reyna, I am not finished talking to you!”

I slam the door behind me.

The moment I’m outside, I press the heel of my palm against my eyes. Damn it.I refuse to cry. I absolutely refuse. But the tears come anyway, hot and humiliating, and I quickly wipe them away before anyone can see.

I hate this house.

I hate the way my father treats me like an inconvenience while bending over backward to make his other children happy. I hate the way my stepmother looks at me as though I personally ruined her life by existing.

And right now, I hate the fact that I have absolutely no idea how I’m supposed to get out of this mess.

“Miss Reyna?”

I hear one of the maids call my name but I don’t answer. Not while I’m furious, humiliated, and feel like murdering my father. I pass two more maids in the hallway without acknowledging them and take the stairs leading to the eastern wing of the mansion.

There’s only one place I want to be right now. The private suite at the last floor of the mansion. It’s technically reserved for important guests, but the room has been sitting empty for months. It has a beautiful marble floor, floor-to-ceiling windows, a massive bed, and a large indoor hot tub that overlooks the garden. 

It’s also the one place in this enormous house where I can breathe without somebody reminding me that I don’t belong.

After I discovered the access code years ago, I’ve been sneaking in whenever I need a little peace and quiet. Thankfully, nobody has caught me yet.

And considering the kind of evening I’m having, I desperately need that hot tub. I quickly glance around to make sure no one is looking before entering the code. I open the door and step inside.

Silence. Beautiful, glorious silence. I close the door behind me and let out a long breath.

“Finally.”

For once, I leave the lights off. Soft light from the garden streams through the windows, giving the room a warm, golden glow.

I drop my phone onto a nearby table and pull my dress over my head. I pull off my shoes next.

I’ll worry about everything else later.

Right now, I just want to sink into the hot water and forget about my sad reality.

I strip until I'm in my bra and panties. I'm about to enter the hot tub when a deep voice suddenly cuts through the silence.

“I haven’t even been here for ten minutes, and a desperate whore has already found her way into my private suite.”

I freeze.

For one terrifying second, my brain refuses to process what I’ve just heard.

Then I slowly turn toward the sound. Someone is standing near the windows, partially hidden in the shadows.

A man.

A very tall man.

And judging by the way he’s looking at me, he’s about three seconds away from becoming the biggest regret of my evening.

“WHAT THE FUCK?” I squeal, immediately crossing my arms over my chest. “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing in here?!?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he steps away from the shadows and I'm able to see him a bit clearly. He's… Handsome. 

No, devastatingly good looking. What the hell??

This… weird man is so tall that I have to raise my head to meet his gaze, with broad shoulders beneath a perfectly fitted black shirt. His dark hair is neatly cut at the sides and styled on top, and his jaw is sharp enough to make me wonder whether the universe gave him that face simply to annoy women.

His eyes are dark and intense, fixed on me with an expression of absolute disapproval.

For a brief moment, I forget that I’m half-naked in front of a complete stranger.

Then I remember his insult.

Oh, absolutely not.

“Get the fuck out!”

One of his eyebrows rises in surprise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! Turn around and get out of my room!”

His gaze travels briefly around the suite before returning to my face.

“Your room?”

“Yes, my room!”

“Interesting.”

He slips his hands into his pockets, looking so relaxed that I want to throw something at him.

“I don’t remember inviting you here,” he says.

I stare at him.

Then I laugh. Not because anything about this situation is funny, but because I genuinely cannot believe the audacity of this man.

“Are you blind?”

His expression changes. “Careful.” 

“Careful?” I repeat. “Are you supposed to scare me or what?.”

He takes a slow step toward me and I tighten my arms across my chest.

“Listen, Mr. Uninvited Guest, unless you want to explain why you’re lurking in the dark like some creepy serial killer, I suggest you leave my father’s property.”

His lips twitch as if he’s trying to hold in a smile. How is this situation funny to him?? And why does his lips look so full and soft?

“You’re staring at me like you want to eat me alive, firefly. All you have to do is beg if you want me.”

I blink. Did he seriously just call me firefly?

I gape at him. Then I let out a disgusted laugh.

“Ugh. I’d rather eat shit than you.”

His smile widens.

“Such a pretty sharp mouth.”

“Such an ugly personality.”

“You haven’t known me long enough to judge my personality.”

“You’re right. I usually give people more than thirty seconds before deciding they’re insufferable. Congratulations on breaking a record.”

He chuckles as though I’m entertaining him.

I hate him. I hate his face, his stupid smile, his expensive-looking clothes, and the way he stands there like he owns the entire building.

Most of all, I hate that he’s making me feel like I’m the unreasonable one when he’s the idiot who decided to insult a half-naked woman in a room he apparently thinks belongs to him.

“Do you always talk this much?” he asks.

“Only when I’m dealing with particularly irritating people.”

“Then I must be special.”

“Oh, trust me. You are. I’ve never wanted to commit a murder with my bare hands quite this badly.”

His eyes gleam. “Is that a threat?”

“No. A promise.”

He laughs again, and I swear something inside me snaps.

“Are you done?” I demand.

“Not even close.”

“Well, I’m done with you. Turn around.”

“You’re giving me orders now?”

“Would you prefer I draw you a diagram? It’s a very simple instruction. Turn. Around.”

He glances at the hot tub, then back at me.

“You came here to swim?”

“Brilliant observation. Have you considered a career in detective work?”

“And you thought stripping in my private suite was a good idea?”

I stare at him in disbelief.

“First of all, I wasn’t stripping for you. I didn’t even know you existed until you opened your mouth and ruined my evening. Second of all, THIS IS MY FATHER’S HOUSE.”

“Your evening was already ruined?”

My chest tightens with pain as I remember my horrifying reality after my father told me that he’s selling me off. But I’m not giving this stranger the satisfaction of knowing anything about my life.

“None of your business.”

He studies me for a moment. Then his gaze shifts toward the door.

“Do you know who you’re speaking to?”

“Oh, here we go.”

His expression turns colder.

“You don’t, do you?”

“Am I supposed to be scared?”

“Most people would be.”

“Then most people are idiots.”

The room falls silent.

He looks at me for several seconds, and for the first time since this ridiculous conversation began, I wonder whether I’ve pushed him too far.

Then he smiles. It’s not a particularly friendly smile. In fact, it makes me feel as though I’ve just signed my own death warrant.

“All right, firefly.”

He gestures toward the hot tub. “Enjoy your swim.”

“Finally. A sensible decision.” I mutter as he steps back. 

I turn toward the hot tub, already looking forward to finally enjoying some peace, when I hear movement behind me.

Before I can turn around, a hand shoves my shoulder. I lose my balance with a startled scream and plunge into the water.

I come up gasping, pushing my wet hair out of my face. “WHAT THE FUCK?!”

That absolute bastard just pushed me into the water.

I’m going to kill him.