WILLIAM BELINNI — THE DON'S FORBIDDEN BRIDE — Book Three

Rebecca Windsor

“Oh my God! I think I’m going to explode from anxiety at any moment!” Mary jumps from one foot to the other, fanning herself while holding her lipstick in one hand. She’s trembling. “God, I’m never going to get this on! It’s going to smear everywhere, and I’ll look like a clown when he sees me!”

“William Belinni isn’t going to look at you, Mary,” Harper warns her sister, rolling her eyes afterward.

They’re twins, but they couldn’t have more different personalities.

“And why not? The planets are aligned. Everything is conspiring in favor of my romance with the Mafia Don’s son,” she argues firmly, sighing dramatically.

“Oh my God,” Harper mutters. “Our parents said we’re going to meet our prospective suitors, but I seriously doubt either of them is going to be the future head of the Outfit. If William Belinni were interested in either of us, Dad would be setting off fireworks right now.”

“You say that now, but I want to see you looking at me with disdain when I become the First Lady of the Outfit.”

“Mary, I’m just being realistic. William Belinni is looking for a wife, and every woman in the Mafia knows it. Tonight is practically going to be a war over scraps of attention from the Don’s son. Princesses from much wealthier families, with even more influential connections, are going to spend the entire night surrounding him. The chances of him even looking at you are nonexistent. He’s not your suitor.”

“The planets are aligned,” she repeats. “And Christmas is just around the corner. Magical things can happen, can’t they, Rebecca?”

She looks at me with sparkling eyes, and my heart warms.

Mary is romantic and hopeful. Harper is cold and sharp, though she has an enormous heart and would do anything for the people she loves. Deep down, her serious personality is nothing more than a protective shield.

“Of course they can, sweetheart,” I reply. “But regardless of that boy, any man would be lucky to have you as his wife.”

Her smile grows wider, and so does mine, but Harper lets out an audible sigh.

“I hope your guardian angel is strong, because I won’t be able to stop your heart from being shattered into a thousand pieces by those ridiculous dreams of yours.”

We’re in my bedroom, getting ready for the Outfit’s Christmas party—the Chicago Mafia.

The Belinni family controls everything, and the rumors that have been circulating all week say that tonight the Don’s eldest son will finally be looking for a wife.

William Belinni will soon take the throne. His father is ill, and everyone knows the succession is close. That’s why half the women in the Organization are practically holding their breath.

Being chosen by him means becoming the First Lady of the Mafia: the most respected, untouchable, protected woman in the Organization… the woman who commands the devotion of the most feared man in Chicago.

My father, just like Mary and Harper’s father, is one of the Don’s trusted men.

We grew up under the laws of the Mafia, guided by rigid rules, submission, silence when necessary, and discipline above all else. Maybe that’s why I don’t have many friends.

Or rather, almost none.

I’m eighteen years old, I have cold parents, and no siblings to share the weight of life with. My entire education was at home, and if it weren’t for the twins, I probably would have gone insane.

They live in the house next door, and because they’re “princesses” just like me, my mother allowed me to spend some time with them.

I lived for those moments.

Those little intervals of freedom and laughter were everything I had.

On the other days, I would lock myself in my bedroom, put on my headphones, and let music fill the emptiness. Classical music was always my favorite, but over time I learned to love every genre.

The sweet melodies kept me company on lonely days and brought me joy whenever I was sad.

But the truth is, sadness never completely ruled my heart.

Even when I was alone, I was always too much of a dreamer to believe my destiny was supposed to be… just this.

I preferred to believe that somewhere out there, life was keeping something beautiful for me.

Well, maybe I’m more like Mary than I am like Harper after all.

“Let me help you, darling,” I say to Mary, taking the lipstick from her hand and applying it for her.

She nods and sits on the edge of my bed while I paint her lips red.

“Red isn’t a good color if you want to kiss William Belinni,” Harper teases. “It’ll smear everywhere.”

The way she says it makes her sound like she’s the queen of experience when it comes to kissing boys, but the truth is, she’s just as much of a virgin and just as inexperienced as the rest of us.

“I thought you said he wasn’t even going to look at me,” her twin shoots back as soon as I finish with the lipstick.

“What do you two even see in him?” I ask, genuinely curious.

They both stare at me at the same time, as if I’ve just asked the most ridiculous question imaginable.

“What kind of question is that? What do we see in William Belinni?”

Harper gasps.

“Rebecca, he’s the Greek god of the Mafia.”

“The man is huge, muscular, covered in tattoos, and has such a wild smile that it would make anyone’s panties wet.”

“His smile isn’t the only wild thing about him.”

Harper bites her lip, trying not to laugh. She moves closer to us and lowers her voice to a whisper. Mary and I instinctively do the same.

“Rumor has it he’s wild in bed, too.”

“How do you know about those rumors?” Mary asks.

“I have my sources.”

Harper shrugs, but a different kind of chill hits my stomach, and I swallow as I think about her words.

He’s wild in bed, too.

“Rebecca? Are you okay?”

“You’re thinking about William, aren’t you?” the wicked twin teases, and I quickly try to pull myself together.

“No. I don’t even know him,” I reply, moving away to finish my own makeup.

“You’ve never seen him?” Mary asks, stunned.

“No.”

Everyone knows the Don of the Outfit, Hudson Belinni, has two sons: William, the eldest, and Robert, the younger.

But my father never allowed me to attend events before I turned seventeen. And the moment I did, he took care of arranging my engagement to Clark Evans—a man every bit as jealous and controlling as he is.

So I’ve had practically no contact with anyone outside our home.

“William has always been highly sought after, and his social calendar is packed,” I explain. “So during the few events I was allowed to attend, I never had the chance to see him in person.”

“Oh my God. How dare you live your life without ever seeing that gorgeous chocolate hunk?”

“I’m not interested.”

My voice comes out firm.

“I’m engaged, in case you two forgot.”

“To Clark,” Harper says, almost disdainfully.

“What’s wrong with that?”

Clark Evans is a businessman. He’s intelligent and manages one of my father’s companies. Since I’m an only child, our arrangement was convenient because my father needed a successor.

Clark came up with the idea. My father agreed.

And I had no choice but to accept.

My fiancé isn’t particularly tall or muscular, but he’s always been polite to me. He isn’t a Mafia man, although he’s deeply involved in the Mafia world.

He isn’t handsome, but he isn’t ugly either.

“Besides the fact that he’s the personification of a man with absolutely no edge,” Harper scoffs.

My friends have always been fascinated by the stereotype of Mafia soldiers: big, strong, and dangerously intimidating.

Next to them, Clark looks like a harmless little lamb.

I’ve never been in love with him, but I’ve also never been the kind of girl who challenges my father’s decisions.

Clark didn’t like me going out much either, although he hardly ever showed up to see me himself.

Because of that, I never had enough time to truly get to know him, form a stronger opinion of him, or decide whether that opinion should be positive or negative.

What I did notice, during the little time we spent together, was that Clark is a respectful man.

He’s never tried to touch me.

But then again, with my mother and my father’s men always nearby, that wasn’t exactly surprising.

“He looks boring, cowardly, nerdy, and way too proper,” Mary lists. “Not to mention that the few times I’ve greeted him, I noticed he smells like disinfectant and his hands are way too small.”

“And feminine,” Harper adds.

“That screams insecurity, you know?”

“What does?” I ask, confused.

“Men with small hands,” Mary insists. “If a burglar ever breaks into your house, you’ll probably have to defend your husband and his tiny little hands.”

“Oh my God!”

I burst out laughing.

“If a burglar breaks into my house, he’ll have to get past my father’s men first.”

“Exactly,” Harper says. “Your father’s men. Because your fiancé wouldn’t be able to protect you with those tiny hands.”

“Do you think he’s gay?” Mary asks, frowning as she looks at her sister.

“No!” I defend him, since homosexuality isn’t exactly accepted in our world. “He just has small hands, for God’s sake!”

“I don’t think he’s gay either,” Harper says, pointing toward my body.

“The times I’ve seen you together, when you and your parents weren’t looking, Clark practically devoured you with his eyes. I’m sure he’d take you to bed before the wedding if you weren’t the daughter of your father.”

“But I don’t think he’d be as good at it as William,” Mary argues with a giggle.

My face burns at the comment.

Sex is never discussed in my house. Absolutely never.

Everything I know about it comes from whatever the twins tell me or give me to read.

And they know a lot.

Their mother has an enormous collection of erotic novels hidden inside a box at the back of her closet. The two of them discovered the treasure years ago and have practically read every single one, always taking care to return each book to exactly where they found it, as if no one had ever touched them.

But first, they made sure to force me to read a few particularly steamy chapters, which contributed significantly to my desire to get married soon.

Everything sounded so… exciting.

“His hands aren’t the only thing that’s small,” Harper comments, rolling her eyes. “His dick must be tiny too.”

“If that logic is true, William must have a third leg,” Mary fires back enthusiastically. “His hands are enormous.”

“And muscular,” Harper adds dreamily.

They continue excitedly, talking as though they’re internationally renowned experts on male anatomy, while my lap starts to burn just from imagining any of it…

Which is completely inappropriate.

Especially considering that I’m engaged to someone else and have never even seen the Don’s son in my life.

“Stop! I’m not interested in William!” I whisper in my firmest voice, trying to silence every curious cell inside me that insists on vibrating.

Or maybe I’m trying to convince myself of the words that just came out of my mouth.

“Clark is handsome. I don’t need to look at anyone else.”

Harper lets out a short laugh and walks over to the mirror to touch up her makeup.

She’s wearing a blue dress, Mary is wearing pink, and I’m completely dressed in purple.

They both look beautiful. They have dark skin and loose, curly hair cascading down to their waists.

I, on the other hand, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, leaving the entire back neckline of my dress exposed.

My mother didn’t even notice that detail because I had worn my hair down during the fitting.

But I loved the way it looked so much that I decided to leave it that way.

“Darling, don’t take this the wrong way, but your fiancé—and every other man in the United States—doesn’t even come close to William’s beauty,” Harper declares.

Mary smiles widely at her reflection in the mirror.

“Well, at least Rebecca doesn’t want him. The competition would be unfair,” she says, looking at me through the reflection. “No one is prettier than you.”

I immediately shake my head.

They’re both beautiful.

“Girls, do I have to remind you for the thousandth time that I’m engaged?”

I laugh, unable to truly be angry with them.

They’re everything I have.

How could I not love them?

Before they can answer, someone knocks on the door.

A maid enters and informs us that Clark is already downstairs waiting for me so we can leave for the party.

My parents left earlier because my father had a meeting with the Don, and my mother wanted to spend some time with his wife.

They only allowed me to ride with my fiancé because my friends would be accompanying me.

We’re about to leave the room when Harper grabs me by the shoulders and looks directly into my eyes.

“Rebecca, you don’t know William, so I’m going to explain something to you.”

“With him, there are no gray areas. If he wants something, he takes it. The future Don is impulsive and selfish, but he’s so powerful and violent that everyone gives in to whatever he wants.”

Whispering, she says it with such certainty that, unbelievably, every hair on my body stands on end.

“If he wants you, he’ll have you. Even if he has to kill your fiancé to get you.”

She grabs her coat, opens the door, and leaves, abandoning me alone with Mary.

My friend turns toward me with a gentle smile and takes my hand.

“Don’t worry about anything, Rebecca. It’s Christmas,” Mary says, her smile seemingly bright enough to illuminate the entire hallway.

“And wonderful, magical things happen at Christmas.”

I smile back and link my arm through hers.

We grab our coats and walk downstairs together, and I try to hold on to her words like a drowning woman clinging to a lifeboat.

But with every step, my stomach twists in waves of anxiety.

And it isn’t because of the slender, elegant man waiting for me at the door with a perfectly rehearsed smile.

Or because of the little velvet box Clark is holding between his hands.

Tiny hands, by the way.

So small that, suddenly, they’re bothering me in a way they never have before.

Maybe it’s the time of year. The alignment of the planets. Or any convenient excuse I can find to explain the chaos inside me.

But my friends’ opinions have never affected me this much before.

And it isn’t only because of their jokes about my delicate-handed fiancé, who probably wouldn’t be able to protect me during a robbery.

It’s because another man has taken up residence in my thoughts.

I want to see him.

I want to see the tall, strong man with the wild presence who is about to take control of Chicago with an iron fist.

Hands I imagine to be large, rough, tattooed…

The complete opposite of Clark’s.

Something unfamiliar stirs inside me at the thought, but I force myself to push it away.

Because the truth is, I’m a Mafia princess—a pawn in my father’s game of convenience—and that means I don’t own my destiny.

My life.

So even as my heart races at the thought of meeting another man, I take a deep breath, steady myself, and offer my fiancé a forced smile.

Soon, I’ll marry Clark.

And the best thing I can do is accept it.