Alessia sat in her father's chair, her hands still stained with his blood.
She'd refused to leave him. Refused to let the guards take his body away. For the past hour, she'd simply sat there, staring at the empty space where he'd fallen, trying to make sense of a world that had turned upside down in the span of a single gunshot.
The door opened without a knock. Marco Russo, her father's second-in-command, entered with three other senior captains. All men who'd served Vittorio Romano for decades. All men now looking at her with expressions ranging from pity to barely concealed ambition.
"Miss Romano," Marco said, his voice careful. "We need to discuss the family's position."
"My father's body isn't even cold yet, Marco."
"Which is precisely why we need to talk." He moved closer, and Alessia caught the subtle shift in his posture. He wasn't approaching her as an equal. He was approaching her as someone who needed to be managed. Controlled. "The other families will have heard by now. We need to show strength. Unity."
"I agree."
Marco blinked, clearly surprised by her easy acquiescence. "Good. Then you'll understand that we need to appoint an acting head of the family. Someone with experience. Someone the other families will respect."
"Someone like you?" Alessia asked softly.
"I've served your father for twenty years—"
"And yet you weren't here when he was murdered." Alessia stood, and something in her movement made all four men tense. She'd been a princess all her life, yes. Sheltered and protected. But she was still Vittorio Romano's daughter. She'd been raised in blood and power, even if she'd never been allowed to wield it directly. "Where were you, Marco? Where were any of you when someone walked into this house and put a bullet in my father's back?"
Marco's jaw tightened. "We were handling the situation at the eastern warehouse. There was a fire—"
"How convenient." Alessia walked around the desk, her movements slow and deliberate. "A fire that pulled away my father's most trusted men. The same night he's killed. Don't you find that suspicious?"
"What are you implying?"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating facts." She stopped directly in front of him. "Someone orchestrated this. Someone who knew exactly how to strip away my father's defenses."
"All the more reason to have experienced leadership," one of the other captains, Sal Benedetti, interjected. "With respect, Miss Romano, you're not equipped to handle—"
"I'm marrying Dante Salvatore."
The words dropped into the room like a grenade.
Four faces stared at her in shock. Then Marco's expression twisted into something ugly.
"That's not funny, Alessia."
"It wasn't a joke." She kept her voice level, channeling every ounce of authority she'd ever seen her father wield. "My father arranged an alliance with the Salvatore family before his death. A marriage alliance. Between Dante Salvatore and myself."
"That's insane," Sal sputtered. "The Salvatores are our enemies—"
"The Salvatores are the second most powerful family in the region," Alessia corrected. "Combined with our territory and resources, we'd control more than half the eastern seaboard."
"Vittorio would never—"
"My father did many things you weren't aware of, Marco." Alessia met his gaze steadily. "This was one of them. The agreement was made three months ago. Legal documents were drawn up. Witnesses signed."
She was gambling now. She didn't know if any of that was true. But Dante had been too confident, too specific. He had to have proof. He had to.
And the look on Marco's face told her she'd guessed right.
"He told you," Marco said slowly. "Before he died, he told you about the alliance."
Alessia said nothing, letting him believe what he wanted.
"This is a mistake," Marco said, his voice hardening. "The men won't accept it. A Salvatore as the head of this family—"
"Dante won't be the head of this family. I will." Alessia straightened her spine. "The marriage is political. Strategic. It secures our position and prevents a war we can't afford to fight right now."
"And what does Dante Salvatore get out of this arrangement?" Sal asked suspiciously.
"Access to our shipping routes. A percentage of the port revenues. And a united front against whoever is trying to destroy both our families."
Marco's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"
"The Salvatore warehouses were hit tonight. Same time as my father's murder. Professional attacks. Military precision." She watched their faces carefully. "Someone wants the Romanos and Salvatores at war. Someone who benefits from us tearing each other apart."
The captains exchanged glances. She could see them processing, calculating.
"Even if that's true," Marco said finally, "marriage is extreme. There are other ways to form an alliance—"
"Name one that the other families will respect. That they'll fear." Alessia crossed her arms. "A business partnership can be broken. A treaty can be voided. But a marriage? That's blood. That's permanent. That tells everyone in the syndicate that the Romanos and Salvatores are now one family."
"It also tells them you're weak," Marco shot back. "That you need a man to protect you."
"Let them think that." Alessia smiled coldly. "Let them underestimate me. It'll make it easier when I destroy whoever killed my father."
For a long moment, silence filled the room. Then Marco shook his head.
"The captains will need to vote on this. You can't just—"
"Actually, I can." Alessia moved back to her father's desk and pulled out a leather-bound document from the top drawer. Her hands shook slightly as she opened it, but her voice remained steady. "According to the family charter, in the event of the Don's death, leadership passes to his designated heir. That heir has absolute authority for the first ninety days to stabilize the family's position. After that, the captains can call for a vote of confidence."
She'd read that document a hundred times as a teenager, dreaming of a day when her father might see her as more than just a daughter to be protected.
She'd never imagined it would matter like this.
Marco's face darkened. "Vittorio never officially named you heir."
"He did. Three months ago. The same time he arranged the marriage alliance." Alessia pulled out another document—one she'd found in her father's safe while the men were dealing with the initial chaos. She'd known the combination since she was sixteen. Her father had trusted her with that, at least. "Witnessed and notarized. Everything legal and binding."
She slid the paper across the desk. Marco snatched it up, his eyes scanning the document. She watched the color drain from his face.
It was real. All of it.
Her father had been planning this for months. Preparing for the worst. And somehow, he'd known it was coming.
"Why didn't he tell us?" Sal asked quietly.
"Because he didn't know who to trust." Alessia's voice softened slightly. "Someone betrayed him. Someone close enough to know his schedule, his security protocols. Someone in this house."
The implication hung heavy in the air.
"You think one of us—" Marco started, anger flashing in his eyes.
"I think my father is dead, and I don't know who's responsible. So yes, I'm suspicious of everyone." Alessia met each man's gaze in turn. "But I'm also practical. I need you. All of you. The family needs you. So here's what's going to happen."
She leaned forward, her hands flat on the desk.
"I'm going to marry Dante Salvatore in three days. We're going to announce it as a love match—a secret romance that my father blessed before his death. The story is that he was going to announce it this week, but someone killed him before he could. This gives us narrative control and makes the marriage seem less like desperation."
"No one will believe that," Sal protested.
"They don't have to believe it. They just have to accept it." Alessia's eyes were hard. "And while everyone is focused on the wedding and what it means for the power structure, we're going to find out who killed my father. Quietly. Carefully. And when we do, we're going to make them pay."
Marco studied her for a long moment. She could see him reassessing, realizing that perhaps Vittorio's daughter had inherited more than just his name.
"And if we refuse to support this?" he asked.
"Then you're welcome to leave. Take your territory, your men, and see how long you survive when the other families start circling." Alessia's voice was cold. "Because make no mistake, Marco—without the Salvatore alliance, we're vulnerable. You know it. I know it. And every other family in the syndicate knows it."
Another long silence.
Then Marco nodded slowly. "Three days isn't much time to plan a wedding."
"It's not a real wedding. It's a political statement." Alessia felt something loosen in her chest. He was accepting it. They were accepting it. "Small ceremony. Immediate family and senior captains only. We announce it publicly afterward."
"The Salvatores will want their own people there," Sal pointed out.
"Of course. Dante and I will coordinate the details." The words felt strange in her mouth. Dante and I. As if they were a unit. A team.
As if she wasn't marrying a man she hated.
"I want extra security," Marco said. "If someone was bold enough to kill Vittorio in his own home, a wedding where both families gather is—"
"An opportunity for another attack. I know." Alessia had already thought of that. "We'll hold it on neutral ground. The Bellini estate, maybe. Tony Bellini owes my father a favor, and his security is legendary."
"I'll reach out to him," Marco said, and Alessia noted the shift. He was taking orders now. Accepting her authority.
It was a small victory, but she'd take it.
"Good. We'll meet tomorrow morning to go over the details. Eight AM sharp." She glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. In the chaos and grief, hours had slipped away. "Right now, I need to... I need to make arrangements for my father."
The men's expressions softened slightly.
"We'll take care of everything, Miss Romano," Sal said quietly. "The funeral, the announcements, all of it. You should rest."
Rest. As if she could sleep with her father's blood still on her hands and the memory of his empty eyes burned into her mind.
"Thank you," she said anyway, because it was what was expected.
The men filed out, leaving her alone in the study once more. Alone with the ghosts and the choices she'd made.
She'd committed now. Publicly. To marrying Dante Salvatore.
To binding herself to her enemy.
Her phone buzzed. An unknown number.
She answered it without thinking.
"It's done," she said before he could speak. "I told my captains about the marriage. They've accepted it."
"I know." Dante's voice was as cold and smooth as before. "I have people in your household."
Of course he did.
"The wedding will be in three days," Alessia continued, ignoring the implication. "Small ceremony. Neutral location. My people will coordinate with yours on security."
"Acceptable."
"I want something in return."
A pause. "We already have an agreement."
"A new term. I want full access to your intelligence network. Everything you know about the attacks tonight. Everything you know about potential enemies. If we're doing this, if we're really going to find who killed my father, I need information."
"You don't trust your own people to provide that?"
"I don't trust anyone right now." Alessia's fingers tightened on the phone. "Except you."
She could hear the surprise in his silence.
"Not because I like you," she clarified quickly. "But because you want revenge as much as I do. That makes you reliable."
"Interesting logic."
"Do we have a deal or not?"
Another pause. Then: "You'll have access to everything I know. But that goes both ways. I need the same from you. Full transparency. No secrets."
"Fine."
"And Alessia?" His voice dropped lower. "When we're married, we share a residence. My home or yours, we can negotiate. But we live together. Present a united front."
The thought of living with him, of seeing him every day, of sharing space with the man who might still have killed her father despite his denials...
"Which house has better security?" she asked pragmatically.
"Mine."
"Then we'll live there." The words tasted like ash. "Any other demands?"
"Just one." There was something different in his voice now. Something almost... warm. "Try to get some sleep. You'll need your strength for what's coming."
Then he hung up.
Alessia stood there, phone in hand, feeling the weight of everything crushing down on her.
In three days, she would marry Dante Salvatore.
In three days, she would become the wife of her enemy.
And somewhere out there, the person who'd murdered her father was watching, waiting to see what she'd do next.
She looked at her father's chair, at the blood still staining the floor, and made a silent promise.
*I'll find them, Papa. I'll find who did this, and I'll make them pay. Even if I have to burn the whole world down to do it.*
The game had begun.
And Alessia Romano had just made her first move.
To be continued...