Chapter 2 The Bride Switch

A day later, I'm sitting in an Italian restaurant in Chelsea owned by the Messeros.

This was supposed to be an intimate dinner with Leonardo's immediate family and ours, so there are just seven other people scattered around the large dining table.

It's quiet enough to hear a pin drop.

Leonardo's mother and uncle have barely said a word since we sat down. So far, the conversation's been dominated by Papà, but even he's got his mouth shut now.

A drop of sweat rolls down his pockmarked temple, and the sight of it fills me with satisfaction.

Nervous? You should be.

Isabella asked to speak with Leonardo alone just a few minutes ago, and now they're talking in his office. Everyone can sense something is wrong. My sister's supposed to be getting married in three days, but if their conversation goes well, it won't be Isabella walking down the aisle.

It will be me.

Mamma is staring at her plate, her jaw tight. Beside her, my brother, Giovanni, is swirling the wine in his glass, a notch between his brows. I glance to my right, over Isabella and Leonardo's empty seats, and lock eyes with Antonio De Luca, Leonardo's consigliere.

For once, that annoying mountain of a man looks a bit uncertain. He lifts his brows, like he's asking me if I know what this is all about.

As if I'd ever tell him. He's just as bad as his tyrannical boss.

While it's a bit thrilling to be the only one here in on the secret, what's not thrilling is knowing that the best-case scenario ends with me walking out of here as an engaged woman.

I vowed I'd never marry a mobster.

But for Isabella, I'll break that vow without any regrets.

Footsteps sound, and a moment later, the two of them reappear.

My heart jumps into my throat. I search Isabella's expression for a hint of how it went, but she's looking at the ground as she hurries over. As soon as she slips into her chair beside me, I take her hand and give it a squeeze.

She squeezes back twice.

Is that good or bad?

Before I can ask her how it went, Leonardo stops at the head of the table like he's about to announce something.

I turn my attention to him. Sculpted cheekbones.

Jaw line carved into a firm, decisive line.

Muscular build that even the sleek tailoring of his black suit can't hide.

In another universe, Leonardo Messero could have been an underwear model, but in this one, the only thing he's modeling is how to be the most intimidating man in a room full of killers.

At twenty-seven, he's the youngest don New York has seen in decades, but he's already gained a reputation for being the most brutal.

A shiver slithers down my spine. I might be marrying this guy.

I should probably be more afraid of him, but I'm not. I've long since trained myself not to think too hard about the consequences of my actions. Papà and Mamma have spent their lives trying to keep me on a tight leash, and if I worried about how they'd punish me every time I broke their stupid rules, I'd never have any fun.

Of course, back then, I didn't know Isabella often paid the price for my indiscretions.

Leonardo drags a tanned hand over his black silk tie. "The engagement is off."

For a second, my lungs seize.

Holy shit. It's done.

"What?" my father barks, his gaze darting between Leonardo and Isabella. "Take a breath, Garzolo," Antonio warns, sensing the impending meltdown.

"You promised me a virgin bride," Leonardo says. "And Isabella is not a virgin."

Papà's face turns red. "Nonsense."

"Garzolo, she admitted to it herself," Leonardo says.

"She's unwell. You know how she's been ever since she returned to us. She doesn't know what she's saying."

"I know exactly what I'm saying," Isabella says firmly as she stands up.

Antonio clicks his tongue. "It seems to me like she's quite in control of her mental faculties, Garzolo."

Papà rises, his chair skidding out behind him. "This is a misunderstanding. Let me talk to my daughter in private."

No way in hell. He's not going anywhere near her again.

I move to put myself between my father and Isabella, but my brother beats me to it. Giovanni stares down Papà, his jaw a hard line.

"I'm done talking to you," Isabella spits out, peering around Giovanni.

"It's already been decided. I won't be marrying Leonardo."

Papà tries to come closer, but Giovanni blocks his path.

"Sit down," my brother snaps.

"Get out of my way," Papà snarls at him. "Isabella, what the hell is this? How dare you-"

Isabella slams her fist against the table.

"How dare I? How dare you demand anything from me after what you've done? I spent my life trying to keep you happy, only to get beaten by you and emotionally abused by Mamma. You've never loved me. I don't think you've ever loved any of your kids. I'm through with you. My only regret is that it took me this long to get here."

Let him hear it, Izzy.

"And by the way, I'm pregnant," she says.

Our parents' reaction is priceless. I wish I could take a picture of their shocked expressions so that I'd have something to look at on the days I'm feeling down.

"Like I said, Isabella is no longer qualified to be my wife," Leonardo drawls, cutting through the stunned silence with his cold voice.

"The stipulations in our contract were very clear. I've already delivered what I promised. I got you out of prison, and I got your charges dropped. This isn't how I do business, Garzolo."

"What do you want me to do?" Papà rasps. He's really panicking now.

"I had no idea-"

"You owe me a wife." Leonardo's gaze falls on me. "So I'm taking your other daughter."

Our eyes clash together. His are so cold that most people are repelled by their icy scrutiny, but right now, there's something else swirling inside all that ice.

Something vaguely possessive.

My blood chills in my veins as my surroundings fade. I don't break eye contact even though it feels like a noose is slowly being tightened around my neck.

In our world, marriage is never an equal partnership. It's a prison. And I'm not the kind of person who does well in captivity.

Just ask my parents. I've disobeyed them my whole life. The more they tried to control me, the more I rebelled. I was going to find a way out of this life. I would leave New York, build a career, and become independent.

That dream is all over now, isn't it?

I tear my gaze away from my future husband and look at my sister.

Izzy.

That's right. This isn't about me.

I'm doing this for her. Because I love her, and I want her to be happy with Ras and her baby. My dreams have always been just that-dreams. But her happy ending is real and ready for the taking.

"Everyone knows that girl is a slut."

The voice of Leonardo's uncle pierces through the pounding in my ears. I flinch even though it's not the first time someone's called me that.

One of my recent attempts to piss my parents off included lying about going all the way with an outsider. They bought it, given Papà was the one who walked in on us in bed. The truth is all we did was some heavy petting, but I encouraged the rumor to spread. If it helped me avoid marriage, I didn't care what anyone thought of me.

But right now, the word bothers me. If it's what stops Isabella from getting away from here, I'll never forgive myself.

Leonardo turns to his uncle. "I'm aware there are rumors floating around about my future wife. Good thing they're completely unfounded. From now on, anyone who speaks a word of them will lose their tongue. Have I made myself clear, Uncle?"

My future wife. My mouth goes dry. Jeez, he's adjusting quickly to the change.

And already doing damage control. He needs to clean up my reputation, so I guess he may as well start now.

Leonardo's uncle pales. "I didn't know. I apologize."

Antonio grins and claps his hands. "The matter is settled then."

"Go, Isabella," I urge her, giving her hand one final squeeze. "It's done." She gives me a nervous smile, hope shining in her eyes.

Leonardo nods at Isabella to signal that she's free to leave. Papà starts shouting in protest, but Leonardo's men block him from interfering as Isabella slips out the door.

The dinner appears to be over. Leonardo walks around the table to where I'm sitting and grabs me by the arm.

"Let's go," he says in a low voice. His hold on me is firm but not painful. I let him lift me to my feet and lead me out of the restaurant.

An SUV is waiting outside. He opens the door, shoves me inside, and slides in after me. His scent washes over me, spicy and masculine.

Antonio takes the driver's seat and starts the car, his eyes briefly meeting mine in the rearview mirror.

My head spins. I press my temple against the cool window and try to come to terms with what just happened.

"Your sister said your father beat her. Did he do the same to you?" Leonardo asks, a strange lilt to his voice.

I glance sideways at him.

"No," I say.

"Only Isabella."

He rolls his shoulders, not looking at me.

"I'm taking you to my home. You will stay there until our wedding, because your father is clearly incompetent when it comes to overseeing his daughters. There won't be any further change of plans. You will walk down that aisle in three days and become my wife. Do you understand?"

He's right. My father is incompetent in many ways. But Leonardo isn't.

Something tells me there won't be any sneaking out of his house.

When I don't say anything for a second too long, he takes my chin in his hand. His touch burns against my skin, but his blue eyes are pure ice. "Do you understand?"

Dismay drips into my blood.

By marrying this man, I'm signing my life away.

I swallow and give him the smallest of nods. "I understand."