Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47716 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 239(@200wpm)___ 191(@250wpm)___ 159(@300wpm)
And an arranged fucking marriage.
Anton was eighteen, now. His future was already shaping. The first steps he was taking into adulthood came into the form of leaving his childhood home and moving into his own apartment. Other boys his age were going off to university, while Anton was in a completely different place, learning the ropes and ways of the streets under his step-grandfather’s Captains he grew up around.
But taking those first steps meant something else entirely to the eighteen-year-old.
It wouldn’t be much fucking longer before he was standing at the end of an aisle watching some Italian girl in a white dress making her way towards him. Vine Carducci was her name. At least, that’s what he understood she went by. Besides the basics of her family’s organized crime affiliation and some of her father’s background, Anton didn’t know a whole damn lot about her.
Frankly, he didn’t fucking want to, either. A simple internet search surely would have brought up a few things but he couldn’t be bothered. Hell, a trip to Long Island to scope out her home and family would have been easy enough. Even what he looked like was a mystery to him.
Probably some pretty, docile princess trained to be the perfect little mob wife. Perfect for him, apparently. That’s what everyone else around him seemed to think. She’d compliment his status, her raising proved her to be a more than suitable wife for a mob boss, and their children would be mafia royalty, like their parents’ were. The deal of the marriage would bring in better business revenue on the illegal side of things, too.
Anton frowned, blowing out a harsh breath of air. Nothing pissed him off more than thinking about marrying someone he didn’t know or love.
Now that ... love ... was a fucking joke.
“I didn’t say you were ... hurting anyone,” Nicoli said softly, surprising his step-grandson at his change in demeanor. “Certainly not like that, my boy. If there was one thing your parents were able to get through that thick head of yours that was it. Thank God. That and making sure you knew to be careful with those girls you run around with.”
Anton smirked, tasting something bitter on the back of his tongue. “Oh, I’m always safe. Wouldn’t want to be bringing home some illegitimate Avdonin to ruin my future marriage, now would I?”
Nicoli flinched. “Anton ...”
“What? It’s not fucking reasonable for you to assume I’m just going to sit back and wait for my arranged wife. I like women—like to fuck,” he clarified, shrugging. “I’m not hurting anybody by having fun while I can.”
“And I suppose when you marry, that’ll all go away, hmm? All your craziness and philandering, it’ll just stop ... is that what you’re saying?”
Anton’s teeth grinded beneath his strong jaw. “Lots of Bratva men have mistresses, Grandpapa. You can’t judge me when all your other men do the same damned thing.”
“Your father doesn’t. I didn’t.”
“I’m not you, or Daniil.”
Nicoli didn’t deny it.
“What do you want from me, huh?” Anton asked defensively, feeling his hackles raise when Nicoli stayed quiet. “Do you want me to settle down with someone and be happy, or follow the rules and expectations you made for me? Because I either attach myself to someone and keep her private, or I continue with the no-strings thing I have going on right now. You don’t get it both ways. Okay? It’s one or the other.”
“You didn’t answer me,” Nicoli said, unaffected. “Will you love your wife? Be faithful, good, and caring to her?”
“You picked her for me, so you answer your own question. I didn’t get a choice, remember?”
*
“I didn’t realize we were sharing a rental home,” Anton said, annoyed no one had mentioned it. A black SUV was parked in the driveway of the gated beach house. “I thought this was supposed to be a private vacation.”
“It is,” Nicoli replied, giving nothing else. Anton forced back his irritation and moved to get out of the back of the car. “Remember what I told you, my boy. Respectful and charming. This is important, Anton, not just for us, but you as well.”
Anton was really getting tired of the goddamn vagueness surrounding this vacation. “Whatever.”
Nicoli sighed but said nothing else.
Outside of the car, Anton took a moment to stretch his arms and legs. After the long flight, they’d picked up the car and drove straight to the rental home. It wasn’t that Anton was unaccustomed to traveling, but he found it difficult to rest while he did, so his body was stiff and protesting from being still for too long.
“Nothing but white sand for miles,” Nicoli noted as he walked around the back of the car, popping the trunk open to retrieve the luggage. “This particular section of the island is private to the homeowners, as is the beach. No one will bother you. Take a jog if you want. Your mother and father can’t be far behind.”