The Don’s Bargain

Chapter One — The price of a daughter

SOFIA

The first thing I heard that morning was my little sister screaming.

"SOFIEEE!"

I groaned, pulling my pillow over my head.

"Deanna, I swear to God, if you're screaming because you can't find your pink hairbrush again—"

"PIP PUT A SPIDER IN MY BED!"

I squeezed my eyes shut.

Of course he did.

"FILIPPO!" I shouted.

A burst of laughter came from the hallway, followed by the unmistakable sound of twelve-year-old feet thundering down the stairs.

"It wasn't real!" he yelled.

I glanced at the clock.

6:43 a.m.

Wonderful.

Another peaceful morning in the Bellini household.

I dragged myself out of bed, pulled on my dressing gown, and went to investigate.

Dee Dee stood in the middle of her bedroom, her dark curls sticking out in every direction, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest.

Her little face was red with outrage.

"Sofia! He put it under my pillow!"

I picked up the offending rubber spider.

"Filippo Bellini is a dead man."

She nodded solemnly.

"Can you kill him after breakfast? I'm hungry."

I laughed despite myself.

"Come on, principessa. Let's get you dressed."

At twenty-one, most girls my age were probably sleeping in after a night out, worrying about university assignments, or falling in love with boys their fathers wouldn't approve of.

Me?

I was negotiating the appropriate punishment for a plastic spider before seven in the morning.

And I wouldn't have traded these two little monsters for anything in the world.

They were my whole heart.

They had been since the day our mother died.

I was thirteen when we buried her.

Pip had just turned four, and Dee Dee was barely a few months old.

I still remembered standing in our kitchen after the funeral, holding my crying baby sister while Pip tugged at my dress, asking when Mamma was coming home.

I hadn't known what to tell him.

So I'd held them both.

And somehow, I had never really stopped.

By seven thirty, the kitchen smelled of toasted bread and freshly brewed coffee.

Pip sat at the table in his school uniform, shovelling cereal into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in three days.

"Slow down," I told him.

He grinned, milk dripping down his chin.

"Growing boy, Sof."

"Growing pig, more like."

Dee Dee giggled.

"You're a piggy, Pip!"

"You're a rat."

"SOFIA!"

"Filippo, enough."

He rolled his eyes but winked at his sister when he thought I wasn't looking.

I turned back to the stove, smiling.

For a few precious moments, everything felt normal.

Then my father walked into the kitchen.

The smile disappeared from my face.

"Morning, Papa."

He didn't answer immediately.

Instead, he went straight to the coffee machine, poured himself a cup, and sat at the head of the table.

My father, Carlo Bellini, had once been a handsome man.

There were still traces of it beneath the tired eyes, greying hair, and permanently furrowed brow.

But over the years, something about him had changed.

He had become harder.

Colder.

And lately, angrier.

"Where's my breakfast?" he asked.

"I'll make you something now."

He grunted.

Pip lowered his spoon.

I noticed.

I always noticed.

"Come on, you two," I said brightly. "Finish up. You'll miss the bus."

Dee Dee hopped down from her chair and wrapped her little arms around my waist.

"Love you, Sofie."

I kissed the top of her head.

"Love you more, amore mio."

"Impossible," she declared.

I smiled.

"Go brush your teeth."

Pip followed her towards the stairs, but paused beside me.

"You okay?"

I brushed his dark hair away from his forehead.

"Of course, sweetheart."

His brown eyes flickered towards our father.

Then back to me.

"Okay."

He didn't believe me.

Sometimes I hated how much he noticed.

The moment the front door closed behind them, my father spoke.

"Sit down, Sofia."

Something in his voice made my stomach tighten.

I wiped my hands on a tea towel.

"Is everything alright?"

"Sit."

I obeyed.

He stared at me for several seconds.

Then he reached into his jacket and placed a cream-coloured envelope on the table.

"You're going to be married."

I blinked.

For a moment, I genuinely thought I'd misheard him.

"I'm sorry?"

"You're getting married."

I gave a nervous little laugh.

"Papa, I'm not even seeing anyone."

"I'm aware."

He took a slow sip of his coffee.

"The arrangements have already been made."

My smile faded.

"What arrangements?"

He leaned back in his chair.

"His name is Alessandro Morello."

The name meant nothing to me.

"Who is he?"

"The eldest son of a very important family."

I stared at him.

"Papa, I don't understand."

"You don't need to understand everything, Sofia. You need to trust your father."

I looked down at the envelope.

My name was written across the front in elegant black lettering.

Signorina Sofia Bellini.

My hands suddenly felt cold.

"Why would I marry someone I've never met?"

My father's jaw tightened.

"Because this family has made sacrifices for you, Sofia. And now it's your turn."

I felt something twist painfully in my chest.

"Have I done something wrong?"

For the briefest moment, his expression softened.

"Oh, bambina mia."

He reached across the table and took my hand.

"You've always been my good girl, haven't you?"

I nodded slowly.

"Always so responsible. So devoted to your brother and sister."

My throat tightened.

"Papa—"

"Everything I've done has been to keep this family together."

He squeezed my fingers.

"And now I need you to do something for us."

I looked at him.

Really looked at him.

And for the first time, I noticed how frightened he seemed beneath his carefully controlled expression.

"What happens if I say no?"

His hand stopped moving.

The kitchen went terribly quiet.

Then he released me.

"Think very carefully before you answer that question, Sofia."

A chill travelled down my spine.

"Why?"

He looked towards the hallway, where Dee Dee's little pink schoolbag had been hanging only minutes earlier.

"Because you aren't the only person whose future depends on this marriage."

My heart began to pound.

"Pip and Dee Dee?"

He said nothing.

"Papa, what have you done?"

He stood, straightened his jacket, and pushed the envelope towards me.

"There's a dressmaker coming tomorrow. The Morellos expect to meet you on Saturday."

I stared at him.

"Saturday?"

"Yes."

"But that's only three days away."

"Then I suggest you make yourself presentable."

He started towards the door.

"Papa, please!"

He stopped.

I could barely breathe.

"Do I have a choice?"

He turned slowly.

And the look he gave me was one I would remember for the rest of my life.

"You always have a choice, Sofia."

For one foolish second, relief flooded my chest.

Then he continued.

"But I would hate for your brother and sister to suffer because you made the wrong one."

The door closed behind him.

I sat perfectly still.

The coffee machine hummed.

The kitchen clock ticked.

Outside, somewhere down the street, children laughed on their way to school.

And I stared at the envelope containing the name of a man I had never met.

Alessandro Morello.

My future husband.

The man who, in three days, would begin taking everything I had ever known away from me.

I pressed a trembling hand against my mouth.

Then I did the one thing I never allowed myself to do in front of Pip and Dee Dee.

I cried.