The offer
DAmiano
Fuck fuck fuck!
I rammed my cock into the warm little hold underneath me. Her moans filled the room while her nails dragged down my back as I pounded into her.
We have been going at it since she came to my door wearing nothing but a trench coat.
The little whore.
Rain hammered against the glass walls of my penthouse. The city lights blurred together outside, glowing gold and white against the darkness of Manhattan. Somewhere behind us, low jazz music played through hidden speakers.
Her doing.
I kissed her neck once before pulling away.
Her breathing turned uneven immediately.
“Damiano,” she whispered, trying to pull me back down.
I caught her wrist gently and moved it away from my chest.
“I’m done.” I barked at her.
A small frown appeared on her face. “That’s it?”
I sat up slowly and reached for my watch on the black marble nightstand beside the bed. The sheets slipped down my waist while I fastened the silver watch around my wrist.
“That usually means it’s over,” I snipped coldly.
She stared at me for a second before laughing softly like she thought I was joking.
I wasn’t.
The bedroom smelled like perfume, sex, and expensive candles. The entire penthouse looked exactly like the kind of place magazines loved writing about. Dark marble floors. Italian leather furniture. Art worth millions hanging on charcoal walls. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
People saw luxury when they entered my home.
They never saw the blood underneath it.
The woman leaned back against the pillows and studied me carefully while I stood from the bed.
“You’re really leaving?”
“I have work and you should go.”
“It’s almost two in the morning.”
I buttoned my shirt halfway. “And?”
She sighed dramatically and rolled onto her side. “You men are all the same.”
That almost made me smile.
No, she got that all wrong. We were not the same, I would kill her if she doesn’t get her little ass moving.
My phone vibrated against the kitchen counter outside the bedroom.
I already knew who it was before I answered.
“Talk,” I said.
Matteo did not waste time before he started relaying me the information. “The Valenti shipment got intercepted.”
I walked toward the windows overlooking the city. Rain streaked the glass while headlights moved through the streets far below.
“How bad?”
“Bad enough that Vittorio is probably breaking furniture right now.”
I grabbed the whiskey bottle beside the bar and poured myself a drink.
“Did you call the police?”
“They arrived before the Valentis could clean the warehouse.”
I took a sip slowly.
Interesting.
Behind me, the woman sat up straighter in bed after hearing the Valenti name. Even people outside our world knew about the war happening between our families.
The Valentis were bleeding money and I was the one holding the knife.
“What about the second shipment?” I asked.
“It is still moving through Jersey.”
“Intercept it.”
“I already sent men.”
I loosened the collar of my shirt with one hand and stared down at the city.
“Freeze every account connected to tonight’s shipment,” I said calmly.
Matteo chuckled quietly through the phone. “That’ll destroy half their operations by morning.”
“That’s the point.”
I continued speaking without emotion.
“Pressure the Morelli family too.”
The Morellis were cowards. The second they sensed weakness inside the Valenti empire, they would run to save themselves.
Men like that always did.
Matteo stayed silent while I took another drink.
“And leak enough information to the authorities to scare off their investors,” I added.
“You want the newspapers involved?”
“Not directly.”
I hated unnecessary attention.
Matteo laughed again. “You’re destroying this family while standing half naked in your penthouse.”
I looked down at the city lights. “And?”
“That’s cold even for you.”
Maybe.
But I stopped feeling guilty a long time ago.
The woman finally climbed out of bed wearing nothing except my shirt. She walked toward me slowly, probably thinking she could distract me again.
Wrong timing.
She wrapped her arms lightly around my waist from behind.
“Come back to bed,” she murmured.
I removed her hands immediately and wrapped my hand around her throat, the sight of her eyes widening self a jolt to my cock but I tamed it.
“Get the fuck out of here before I throw you out the damn window.”
My attention stayed on the call.
“What’s Vittorio doing?” I asked.
“Panicking.”
“He should’ve done that earlier.”
“He contacted us an hour ago asking for a favor.”
I frowned slightly. “What does he want? Money?”
“No.”
“Territory?”
“No.”
That caught my interest.
I turned away from the window. “Then what?”
Matteo paused briefly before answering.
“He wants peace.”
A humorless laugh left my mouth.
“There’s no peace left for him.”
“He knows.”
I finished the rest of my whiskey and set the glass down on the marble counter.
“Then what exactly does he want?”
He paused for a long time before he finally said, “He made an offer.”
I already disliked the sound of that.
“What offer?”
“His daughter.”
I picked up the whiskey bottle again before realizing the glass was already empty.
“Explain,” I said calmly.
“Vittorio offered his daughter, Seraphina in marriage.”
I stared ahead for several seconds without speaking.
Marriage.
The word alone irritated me.
Marriage created emotional attachment and emotional attachment created weakness. Weakness got people killed.
I learned that lesson years ago.
“No,” I said flatly.
Matteo sighed like he expected that answer. “Think about it first.”
“I already did.”
“You marry her and the remaining Valenti territory becomes yours legally.”
I stayed silent.
He continued carefully, “The war ends immediately. Rival families stop circling. Politicians calm down. Investors stop asking questions.”
Every word made sense.
That was the problem.
Which, technically, it was.
“I don’t need a wife,” I said.
“You need control.”
Matteo knew exactly which words mattered.
I rubbed my jaw slowly while staring out at the rain again.
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-two.”
That made me pause briefly.
Too young.
Matteo must have noticed the silence because he added quickly, “Vittorio kept her away from most of the business and protected her.”
I exhaled slowly. “Send me a picture.”
A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.
I opened the message.
The photograph showed a charity gala. Seraphina stood beside Vittorio wearing black silk and diamonds around her throat. Camera flashes surrounded her while politicians and businessmen crowded behind them.
Beautiful.
The woman beside me touched my arm carefully. “Baby?”
I barely heard her.
For some reason, I kept staring at the photograph.
Seraphina Valenti looked nothing like the spoiled mafia daughters I usually met at parties.
There was sadness in her eyes and anger which made an interesting combination.
Matteo’s voice pulled me back. “What do you want me to tell Vittorio?”
I stayed quiet for another moment while rain crashed harder against the windows.
I picked up my whiskey glass and said calmly,
“Tell Vittorio I’ll marry his fucking daughter.”
