I stared incredulously at Jace, struggling to believe that he had suggested that I agreed to Francesco's proposal.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?" Jade, his sister exploded, looking at him with the exact same look of disbelief I had in my eyes. "This guy were talking about is not just any man. He's a mafia don, a crime boss. He must have a long record of kills and surely would also have a long line of people dying to kill him...and his wife."
Jace gave her a look. "Don't be so dramatic, Jade," he said. "True, he would have lots of enemies looking to kill him, but he surely would have an army of soldiers and goons at his disposal. I'd say he's pretty protected and besides, about his wife, he'd surely make her his priority."
Jade worked her jaw. "He's also doing a lot of...illegal stuff."
"Big whoop!" Jace sneered. "Dad also deals with all of the Italians and Bratva and the Yakuza and the Spanish and triad–basically all the mobs. And he's okay collecting money from them."
Jade rolled her eyes. "That's different. We don't get to pick our clients. Surely we can't turn away our guest or put a sign that says no Italian."
"Of course, you can't," Jace scoffed. "But how about reporting to the cops when you see a guy who doesn't have carry permit with a gun sagging in his pant?"
"Don't be ridiculous," Jade said defensively. "They've got some of the cops in their pockets."
Jace stopped his argument. But only for a while.
"May I remind you that Steph can either marry a sadistic fuck or...choose someone equally powerful enough to protect her," he said and turned to look at me. "Besides, Francesco Giacomo is cute. Marrying him can hardly be called a sacrifice."
"She can't marry a guy simply because the guy's handsome," Jade reasoned.
"No," Jace agreed. "But he's also stinking rich and she–"
"She is sitting right here and is capable of making a decision on her own," I interrupted, worn out by their argument.
Jade turned in her seat, locking her eyes with mine. "Please, Stephanie, tell me you know how dangerous Francesco is. Tell me you know this is a damn ridiculous idea."
Of course I knew how dangerous Francesco was. And I knew this was a ridiculous idea.
Should I just meet Francesco and propose? Would I enter his office and announce to him that I was his future wife? Or get a ring from the jeweler's and then go on one knee and hold it out to him?
I cringed at the mere thought of it.
Besides, Francesco was dangerous. He was just another devil. I could end up rejected like Rhea. Or worse, someone, maybe his friend from the other night might pull his gun and shoot me for suggesting, and I coud–
"You're overthinking it, Steph," Jace said, interrupting my thoughts. "I know you, Stephanie. I know you're scared, maybe too scared to even try, but believe me when I say you shouldn't be."
I raised an eyebrow filled with doubt.
"You kissed him, Steph. If he wanted to push you away, he would have done so."
I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Kissing and proposing to him are two different things."
"Yeah, but then he also saved you from that Italian who tried to assault you at the wedding," he argued. "I'd say you should give it a shot."
I bit my lips thoughtfully.
Jace was right: I was scared, terrified. But it wasn't Francesco Giacomo that triggered most of my fear. It was Fabrizio Glocciano.
Before the dinner, my only fear had been that I wouldn't get the money for my mom's treatment, but now, I couldn't shake the dreadful feeling that my life was on the line.
My father was desperate to save his company. The fact that he tried selling me off to a psycho was proof of that. I was sure he was going to do some investigation, check if I was truly engaged with Francesco. I was sure that when my lie was discovered, he would send Glocciano's men.
I needed money.
But now I also needed protection.
Being Francesco's wife wasn't safe too...
I took in a shaky breath. "I think I'll...try to make an offer with him."
Jace smiled in support while Jade frowned.
"No way, Stephanie," she snapped. "He's dangerous, I warn you."
Jace frowned at her. "This might be the only shot Steph would have at saving her mother and herself," he argued.
Jade held his stare for a while and then raised her hands in surrender. "Fine. I get it."
Jace smiled at her and then clasping his hands, he turned to me. "There's only one problem now. We need someone who is close to our man or works for him to set up a meeting."
"That shouldn't be a problem," Jade said, turning to give me a faint smile. "I'm not saying I'm comfortable with this whole idea but my friend works for him in one of the buildings he does his dirty business out of. I'll call her and she'll try to squeeze you in his schedule."
.....
I had been waiting hours for the news and was beginning to doubt if Jade's friend could pull this one off.
Finally the message came: Mr Giacomo will be in his office at seven. Don't be late.
The address came a second later and my heart stopped as I read it.
The office was right above the club where we had kissed that first night. Of course, Jade had already told me that Francesco was the owner.
But he owned over a dozen clubs littering Manhattan and Brooklyn and some other boroughs in New York City which were under the control of different crime families.
No doubt he chose this club to afford himself leverage and maybe make me a thousand times more nervous than I already was.
But I had made my choice and it would be stupid turning back now.
I drew a deep breath, pulled out a bag of cosmetics and the walked into the bathroom, looking at my reflection in the mirror.
Game on.
Two hours later, I was standing at the entrance of the Tower. The Club was on the fortieth floor and Francesco's office was on the forty first.
With wobbling legs, I walked through the revolving door and walked through the hall. The four-inch heels of the red stilettos I wore were not helping but at least they made me look good.
"I have an appointment with Mr Giacomo," I announced as I got to the reception desk and he nodded before making a quick call.
A few tortuous seconds passed and he stood up and led me to an elevator in the back.
"This one will lead you straight to his office," he explained and returned to his desk.
As I stood in the car, drifting upwards, my heart hammered inside of me.
I barely knew this guy and I was going into his office to talk about marriage. This was pure insanity!
The elevator door slid open, revealing a long corridor flanked on both sides with wall-to-ceiling windows, with golden chandeliers hanging from the roof.
I swallowed and stepped onto the black marble floor. The clack of my shoes announced my presence louder than any doorbell could.
No brawny men mounted guards outside but I could not miss the security cameras hanging from the ceiling like bats, monitoring my every step.
A moment later, the door slid open, exposing an expansive office with lush furnishings and a wooden desk at the end of it. Francesco Giacomo was behind this desk, looking charming as ever in a tuxedo.
"Come in, Ms McMahon," his voice vibrated down my core and I moved as if controlled by him.
I stopped in front of his desk, relieved that I made it there without stumbling.
"Hello, Mr Giacomo," I managed to say.
He took his time, surveying my body wrapped in a bodycon dress. Then he rose from his chair and showed me to a sofa at the right corner of his office.
"I came to make you an offer," I said.
His lips spread into a thin smile. "I'm all ears," he purred.
I cleared my throat.
"I heard you're about to turn thirty and need a wife urgently. I know you need to be married before thirty and I guess we can help each other out."
His brows tipped up and a faint smirk appeared on his lips. "Do you mind elaborate?"
My breath turned ragged and the words hooked in my throat, but I tightened my fingers into a fist, summoning courage. "My mother's in a coma, in a terrible condition. There's an experimental surgery that just might help her, but I don't have the kind of money they're asking."
"So?" he asked.
I groaned inwardly. The offer was right there. The son of a bitch just wanted me to be open with it, to come right out and slam the nail on the head.
"I'll marry you if you pay for her treatment," I choked out.
His lips spread into a smug smirk as he exhaled slowly and leaned back in his seat. "You've told me what you want from me," he said. "But what is it you're offering?" He moved his eyes up and down my length, devouring me. "Is it that body under your dress?"
My face flushed and I hoped that I had applied enough makeup to hide my blush.
"It's a simple arrangement," I said. "I'll become your wife on paper. I can live on my own. I won't be of any disturbance. I'll sign whatever prenup you want me to and any other thing–"
"Hold up, hold up," he interrupted. "Let me get this straight. So, all you're willing to sell is your name on a marriage certificate?"
"That's not what I meant," I said exasperatedly.
"Do you offer anything else, then?" he queried with the knowing smirk still dancing on his lips.
"I'll act as your wife whenever you need me. I'll be by your side in public functions and play my role in front of others and do whatever is necessary to keep up the pretence."
"So you're willing to be my contract wife just so the final condition signed in my grandfather's will can be fulfilled?" he questioned, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.
"Yes," I forced out with a little difficulty. My fingers tightened and squeezed in my laps.
"And all you want is for me to settle your mom's bills and pay for her surgery?"
I nodded nervously.
He tipped his eyebrow and I nodded again.
"That's all I want," I said, swallowing a hard lump in my throat.
The smirk reappeared on his lips. "Then I'm sorry," he said slowly. "My answer is...no."