I’m sitting at the breakfast table, trying to bury myself in my work. I am in charge of author acquisition and public relations at Rothschild's Reads.
We’re supposed to have a debut gala for a group of authors that just did some fictional stories about living through quarantine. One is a murder mystery, one is a romance, one is an alien abduction story, and the final is a science fiction book about parallel universes. The gala is in a few weeks and we just had the venue pull out because they just found structural damage all throughout the building.
Even though it’s only breakfast, I’ve already been in crisis mode for the past hour when my assistant called me at 6 am.
“Call the Botanical Gardens, Julianne over at the events center for Central Park, Kendall at the Angel Orensanz Foundation, and any restaurant that you can think of. I’ll call Emily as soon as I’m on my way to work,” I tell my assistant, Grayson.
“I’ll get right on it,” he says, urgency heavy in his voice.
“Gray!” I call to him before he can hang up. “It’s 7:30! Wait until at least 8.”
“Oh, right,” he says. “Alright, I’ll do some research while I wait.”
“Are you already at work, Gray?” I ask him.
“Yeah…” he says, quietly.
“And when did you get in today?” I ask, sitting down at the breakfast table.
“I was pulling in just as I was calling you,” he mutters. “I had gotten an alert while I was getting ready to go to the gym, so I just changed and headed into work.”
“You’ll be leaving at 2:00 then,” I say.
“But we’re in panic mode - “ he starts to say.
“Doesn’t matter. You’re time is from 9 to 5 and you’ve already pulled all the overtime that I allow you for the month. You need a life outside of this job, ok? And you didn’t go to the gym this morning. You can go this afternoon,” I tell him.
I hear him sigh loudly over the phone. “Fine, but that means that I’m finding a new venue today.”
I chuckle, “Sounds good to me. I’ll see you soon.”
I sit down at the breakfast table, my father and brother staring at me.
“What’s going on?” Stefan asks, his voice concerned.
“Nothing for you to worry about. It’ll be included in the weekly summary on Friday,” I say, smartly.
Stefan has been trying to talk to me ever since that disastrous meeting last night and I really just can’t. He’s selling me out for the betterment of the business.
I’m not saying that I wouldn’t have willingly done what is being asked of me if given a choice. What I am saying is that I would have liked to be included on the decision and have pumped the breaks just a bit. Maybe I would have picked the younger Luciano brother.
Granted, Rocco Lucianno is still in graduate school earning his MBA, but he’s only three years younger than me and by all accounts a more reputable man than his older brother. He would have been a better match for me and my family.
Of course, that might be why the Don is marrying me off to Dante in the first place.
Before Stefan can say anything, Father interrupts. “Well, I hope that it’s something that your assistant can handle. Don Luciano has invited us to his home this morning.”
“Actually, it isn’t. I need to be in the office as much as possible for today in order to handle some business,” I say as I make a plate from the food that our cook, Jamille, made for us.
“It’s not a request,” Father snaps out. “We are to go over the contracts for the merger and for your marriage.”
I turn, quirking a brow at my father. “He wants me to sign a prenup?”
“Not exactly,” Father replies, but he refuses to say anything else.
So that’s how I’m standing at the entrance to the Luciano household instead of in the office, helping Grayson figure out this vendor shit. I know that he’s going absolutely insane by the vast number of texts that I’m getting saying everything that is booked. Thank God that he knows my best friend, Emily, well enough that the two of them are having lunch and hopefully working all of this out. Emily is an event planner here in the city and she can work miracles. Hopefully she’ll work one today.
The problem with a venue shift is that some venues will only work with certain vendors, so this could literally fuck us over royally. And with only three weeks until the gala, we’re in major crunch time. We’ve got to figure this out today so that we can have everything taken care of by the end of the week in time to send out invitations.
The door is opened by a butler and we are escorted to Don Luciano’s office. Sitting in the room are the Don, his wife, Emila Luciano, several men who have to be lawyers, and my fiancé .
How can Dante Luciano be such a vile man and still look so deliciously rumpled? He looks like his hair has just been combed through with his fingers, his shirt is wrinkled and unbuttoned to show a deep vee that showcases his pecs, and he hasn’t shaved. In short, he looks like he’s just rolled out of bed and it’s a sight that I wouldn’t kick out of bed.
I mentally shake myself when his dark brown eyes turn towards me and divert my gaze from him. I won’t give him the satisfaction of my lust for him.
And I don’t think I’d be able to go through with whatever this is if I were to see the hatred in his eyes again.
“Ah, Julian and Stefan, welcome! Come and sit.” I’m a little surprised that he doesn’t welcome me, but both he and his wife walk over to me, Mrs. Luciano with a bright smile on her face.
“Darling! It’s such a pleasure to meet you!” Mrs. Luciano says, pulling me into a huge hug before planting air kisses on either side of my face, like the high society women do.
I’m a bit stunned, but years in high society have taught me how to hide my emotions. I reciprocate the greeting. “It’s nice to meet you as well, Mrs. Luciano.”
“None of that, passerotta (sparrow),” the Don booms from beside me, a large grin on his face. “For now, I will accept Rafel and Emilia, but eventually we will be Mama and Papa.”
My eyes widen at that. This criminal mastermind really expects me to call him “Papa.” It’s all that I can do not to laugh in the man’s face.
I think that my astonishment is the only thing that stops me from realizing that Dante is beside me until I feel his hand on the small of my back. I automatically straighten and start to pull away from him before his hand slips to my waist where he pulls me against him.
“I think that might be a little soon, Padre,” Dante’s smooth voice says. “How about we go over the contract requirements before we get too far into this whole thing?”
His father and mother make noises of acquiescence and move back to their seats at the table.
“I can’t believe that you are making me sign a prenup. I don’t want your fucking money, Dante!” I hiss low enough that he’s the only one that can hear me.
I only look at him out of the corner of my eye, but I can see the smirk on his face. “Not a prenup,cara mia (my dear). A contract. Part of the business agreement that you must keep up in order for us to help your failing family business.”
I’m livid. In what world would any self respecting woman be willing to follow this contract? I can’t even look at my fucking “fiancé ” while all of this is going on, or my father or brother. My eyes are solely on Don Luciano in front of me. I know that my face is stony, my eyes flashing with anger. The pinched expression on Emilia’s face lets me know exactly what she thinks about his contract as well. Still, she doesn’t say anything to help me. Stefan starts to speak up. “I don’t think that you can truly expect my sister to - “ “I would like to speak with Don Luciano, my father, and my fiancé alone, please,” I say, interrupting him. “Quinn - “ Father starts, but the Don is the one who interrupts him. “Go,” he says to everyone else. Immediately, the lawyers stand and walk out of the room. Emilia stands as well, that pinched expression on her face until she turns to my brother. “Come, Mr. Rothschild. Won’t you allow me to show you the library. I’ve heard that you love r
By the time I’m at the office, there is a copy of the signed contract in my fax machine and a copy of my schedule to get ready for the wedding in my email inbox. Apparently I’m supposed to be at a catering appointment tonight at 8:00 at Tavern on the Green. Well, la ti da. It’s one of the most expensive and in demand venues in the city. The food is beyond reproach, the scenery is gorgeous, and the service is amazing. And of course, the Lucianos somehow booked it for a wedding next week. If only I had the magic touch to do something like that for the gala. The day is highly stressful and unproductive. Emily, Gray, and I are unable to find a new venue for the gala. And phone calls, hurried meetings, and one or two screaming fits on my part cause me to be approximately 15 minutes late to the Tavern on the Green. Unfortunately, I don’t have the phone number for my soon to be in-laws, nor do I know who I will be meeting there. I called the Tavern on my way, but I have no idea
I’m standing in Kleinfeld’s Bridal Salon, Don Luciano having rented out the whole place. It’s just me, Grayson, and Emily, my best friend. My wedding party is full of members of the Luciano family, their only concessions to our family being my brother on Dante’s side and Emily being my maid-of-honor. And each and every Luciano wanted to come to today’s appointment, none more than Dante’s mother, Emila, and his sister, Bianca. I don’t know how Grayson did it, but he managed to have their dress fittings happen at the same time as my appointment, playing it off as a scheduling error. With so little time between now and the wedding, there was nothing that could be done. Oh no, I’m so upset… Emila was rather upset, but I just reminded her that she would be seeing me in the dress in less than a week, so it isn’t really that big of a deal. It’s not like this will be like a real marriage, right? The one thing that the Lucianos did require was that I have a guard follow me around ev
Grayson, Emily, and I walk to Burger and Lobster Flatiron. It’s this great sit down restaurant that I found after one of my girlfriends got her dress at Kleinfelds a year or so ago. I hadn’t eaten all day and needed something fast before I passed out. The lobster rolls are the best that I’ve had outside of Maine and the Truffle fries are droolworthy. I’ve brought Grayson and Emily here millions of times since then. It’s just that damn good. We purposefully hadn’t told Josiah where we were going. I’ve made it my entire life without security, I really don’t see why anyone would want to hurt me now, just because I’m engaged to a Luciano. I mean, it’s not like I’m in the family yet. We take a seat outside, since it’s a beautiful day outside. The weather is turning warmer as summer approaches. You know, it’s weird. I’ve always wanted to be married in June. It’s always been my favorite month. The city starts bursting with life, all kinds of outdoor events, time spent in Centr
Emilio drives us to Warren Tricomi, one of the best hair salons in the city. On our wedding day, they will be sending several hair stylists, makeup artists, and manicurists to take care of us onsite and all of the women will be having their own consultations. But with my schedule at work and in preparation for this shitshow, I mean my wedding day, I have to do this appointment on my own. Poor Em is going to be doing it with the Lucianos tomorrow. I do not envy her. The entire ride to the salon, I stare out the window. It’s only a three mile rip, but in true New York fashion, it takes about 20 minutes. I manage to finish the whiskey that Dante gave me. He takes the glass from me. “Do you want another?” I just shake my head, keeping my gaze facing the window. I’m not seeing anything that we pass by, my mind speeding through the information that I’ve learned. When Don Luciano claimed me as his son’s fiancee, people saw me as a weakness. Death threats were sent to my famil
The week is a blur of activity. Between having to supervise packing my stuff and getting it to Dante’s house, preparing for the merger at work, and this damn wedding, I barely have time to think. It’s exhausting. Grayson and Emily really are godsends during this time. Emily is able to handle all the minutiae that goes with planning a wedding. I’m sure that some women find this to be an enjoyable process, but they also have more than a week to figure it out. Em knows my style, having been my best friend since kindergarten. Plus, she has impeccable taste. I trust her to make those decisions while I handle something that I actually care about, like the family business. Grayson hires movers, organizers, style experts, and anything else that I need to get things together for my move to Dante’s home. There is an interior designer sent by Dante’s family to help me design my room and get everything moved over while we are away on our honeymoon. God, that’s the last thing that I w
I stay away from my “bridesmaids” for the rest of the day as much as I possibly can. I’m pretty done with them and they seem to get that energy off of me. It also isn’t my most favorite day in the entire world. Instead, I stay off to the side with Emily for the rest of the day. Emilia, Dante’s mom, comes over and speaks several times, but she keeps getting pulled away for her own treatments and procedures with the aunts and other matriarchs of the family. Honestly, thank God. I just can’t pretend to be nice right now. I’m going to have to pretend to be nice and happy in front of several hundred people for the rest of the day. I can’t fake being nice right now. “Are you sure that there’s nothing that you can do to stop this?” Emily asks me after the second time Emilia comes over. I’m in the middle of getting my hair done and she was kind enough to bring a glass of champagne. She had no idea that Emily hasn’t let me see the bottom of my glass for the past hour. Good t
The ceremony is the longest hour of my entire life. I’m not a particularly religious person and it is hilarious to me that a mafia family that I know for a fact has killed, tortured, and extorted people insists on a mass in the ceremony. We have communion, light a unity candle, and are prayed over while kneeling in front of the priest. It’s the weirdest sensation to complete religious sacraments while having a murderer sitting beside you. As the ceremony starts to come to the end, Dante leans over to me. He actually looks kind of nervous about whatever it is he’s about to say. “So, how do you want to do this kiss thing?” I scoff under my breath. “What, do you need lessons? I thought that you were some kind of playboy. You so busy getting your knob polished that you never kissed a girl?” “You know what? You’re gonna get what you get and have to deal with it,” Dante mutters. I have the feeling that I have him cowed enough that he isn’t going to do anything too dramatic