by Mae Doyle
Taken for His Bride
An Arranged Marriage Dark Mafia Romance
The Torenti Family 2
Mae Doyle
This is a work of art/fiction. Names, places, businesses, characters, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, actual events, or places is purely coincidental. Any persons appearing on the cover image for this book are models and do not have any connection to the contents of this story.
All characters depicted in this work are unrelated consenting adults. This author assumes no responsibility for the use/misuse of this material.
© 2020 Mae Doyle
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Chapter 1
Hannah
I’m eighteen, but it doesn’t seem to matter how old I get – whenever my dad calls me into his office, I still feel a bit of fear course through me.
Like I’ve done something wrong.
Or, more likely these days, like he’s going to ask me to do something and he’s already thinking that I’m not going to be happy to do it. That seems to be a common theme as our company runs into more and more problems and we have to acquiesce to what other people want us to do just to stay afloat.
Mom says that it’s not something she ever would have seen coming, to which I replied that nobody expects a shit storm, and I got sent out of the dining room.
At eighteen. Honestly.
Now, though, Grant leads me back down the hall to the dining room like I didn’t grow up here and don’t know exactly where I’m going. I shouldn’t be mad at Grant, though, he’s a good guy and has worked for my parents for years, but sometimes he just takes his responsibilities a little too seriously and I get frustrated.
Eighteen. Not eight.
Anyway, by the time Grant and I turn back into the dining hall, the uncomfortable sinking feeling in my stomach has turned into a screaming pit, and I have the distinct feeling that I’m about to be asked to do something that I don’t want to do.
Well, asked is a strong word, but that’s exactly how Dad will word it, I know it. He didn’t get this far in life by asking people for what he wants, although that doesn’t really seem to be helping him right now. If you ask me, or my mom, maybe telling people what he wanted for a while would have been a great way to get us out of this mess, or at least reduce some of the fallout.
But isn’t there a saying about hindsight? Because that seems really damn applicable right now.
“Sit, Hannah,” my dad says, gesturing at the only empty seat at the table. I perch on the edge of the seat and shoot a quick glance at my mom, hoping to get an idea of what I’m walking into by the look on her face, but she’s doing a great job keeping her face completely passive.
A glance to my other side shows me my brother, Mitch, but he’s studiously not looking at me. Mitch is only one year older than me, but clearly dad’s favorite. I mean, who doesn’t want a child who is completely willing to follow in your shoes and work side-by-side with the mob?
That’s just not me.
“So, what’s going on?” I ask, barely able to hold back my excitement. Well, excitement may not be the right word, but I’m definitely curious. It feels like something big is afoot, judging by the way that nobody wants to make eye contact with me.
My dad sighs and leans back in his chair, resting his hands on his stomach. He’s lost a lot of weight recently, but I don’t think that it’s because of a diet. Stress is hell, and something’s going on at work with him and Mitch, but like I said.
I don’t have any interest in getting involved in the family business.
“You know that we’ve run into a bit of a roadblock at work, right, Hannah?”
I mean, no, I don’t. The only way to know that something is going on is if someone tells you, and my dad has been surprisingly close-lipped about things at work recently, but I give a little nod anyway.
He’s going to explain whatever me means no matter what I say, so I might as well just speed things up.
“Mitch and I have run into issues with getting construction completed for the business. You know that we’re expanding,” he says, making me nod again, “and we need to finish the new buildings as quickly as possible in order to be able to turn a profit by the end of the year.”
“Sounds good to me,” I respond, slowly starting to push up from the chair I’m perched on. Maybe I can slide out of here without having to listen to what the real problem is.
“But the company we’re working with has had some internal problems,” he continues, ignoring the fact that I’m trying to make a run for it. “They’ve put all of our work on hold, so we’re having to find someone else to do the construction for us.”
I…really don’t see how that’s my problem. Or any problem, to be honest. “Why can’t you just find another company to do the work for you? Seems like that would be the best option for you at this point.”
Mitch smirks, and I shoot him a dirty look. What he doesn’t realize is that I don’t really care what happens with the company. I’m only home right now to help mom out after her surgery, but as soon as she’s feeling better, I’m gone.
Back to my new life, one thousand miles away. I may not have the prestige of the Del Rossi family name back in Colorado, but at least I have friends, my own apartment, and a job. Okay, writing copy for various start-ups in the area while taking college classes at night definitely isn’t what my parents thought I’d be doing with my life, but I’m happy.
And isn’t that what all parents should want for their children?
“It is your problem, Hannah.” My dad’s voice sounds firm and frustrated, and I turn to him in surprise. “It is your problem because you’re a part of this family, no matter how much you like to pretend that you’re not when you’re out in Colorado. Your mother and I have looked the other way while you’ve done whatever you wanted, and now we need your help with something.”
“While I’ve done whatever I wanted?” Frustration rises in me and I have the distinct feeling that my temper is about to get me in a world of trouble. “You mean while I’ve going to school and then gotten a job and become a productive member of society? That’s what you always wanted from us, remember? It’s what I did. I’ve done enough.”
It might work. I cross my fingers under the table and risk a glance at my mom. She’s gazing off over my dad’s shoulder and looks really sad, which makes my heart sink. They’re about to ask me to do something bad, I can feel it.
“I don’t want any part in what you’re doing,” I tell them, pushing back from the table. “I’ll stay here until mom is all healed up and good for me to go, and then I’m out of here. I don’t care what it is, I won’t do it.”
“Sit. Down.” My dad never yells, but he sure knows how to make his voice carry and how to get his point across. Again, I glance at my mom, but she won’t look at me.
I don’t want to know what she knows.
Slowly, I sit back down in my chair. Everyone looks serious, even Mitch has wiped that stupid smarmy look off of his face. Now I know that I’m in trouble.
“We need to move construction forward or we’re fucked, Hannah,” my dad says, making me blink in surprise at his words. He’s not one to swear, or to be so blunt and upfront with me. “That means that we have to dro
p the construction company we’re working with and hire someone else.”
“Fine. Then do that.” Honestly, what’s the big deal?
He sighs. “The problem is that the other company in town who could complete the job for us doesn’t want to work with us because they’re a little upset that we went with their competitor before coming back to them.”
“Someone got butthurt and now you have to do a favor to make them work with you? They sound like a bunch of babies, Dad. Just pay them a little more than their fee and that should make everything work out.”
I mean, I know that my parents don’t have a ton of money, but surely they have enough stashed away to make up for hurting this other company’s feelings, right? And also – since when did construction companies become such wussies?
“They don’t want money.” Mitch turns to me and sighs. For the first time since we sat down, he’s looking at me like he’s sorry for me.
My heart twists.
“Daddy,” I say, turning back to my dad, “what do they want? If they don’t want money, what do they want, and what could you possibly be asking me to do right now that Mitch can’t do?”
For a moment, he doesn’t say anything, and I feel the pit in my stomach open up into something as big as the Grand Canyon. I have a terrible feeling about this, even though I don’t have any idea how bad it could really be.
“It’s the Torenti family, Hannah,” my dad says finally. “And they want to make a deal with us to ensure that our family won’t ever turn to another company besides them in the future.”
It makes sense. My parents have built an empire in building homes, office buildings, hell, even casinos. Their empire stretches across three states and employs hundreds of people. It’s smart of the Torenti family to want to lock that down to ensure that they have a constant stream of work and revenue coming in for years to come.
Decades, even.
My skin grows clammy and I have to resist the urge to wipe my hands on my jeans.
“What the hell is the deal?” Even as I ask, I know what it is.
But I have to hear it.
But this is stupid. Arranged marriages aren’t a think anymore. They’re not something that any family would willingly subject their children to, right?
“You need to marry their son, Arlo. He’s very involved in the construction side of their business, Hannah. Only then will they work with us to build what we need. It’s the only thing that will be able to save our company. They have us by the balls, honey, and if you don’t do this, we’re going to fail.”
“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I’ve even had a chance to think about it. This is a fucked-up joke. I grab my arm and pinch it, twisting the skin so hard that tears spring to the corners of my eyes, but the scene in front of me doesn’t fade away the way I want it to.
“Honey,” my mom says, reaching out to touch my hand. I release my skin and suck in a sharp breath.
“No, I can’t.” I don’t care what they think or what it looks like to outsiders. I’ve built an amazing life in Colorado and I don’t want to give it up so that my parents can make a deal with this family. Nobody in their right mind would ask their daughter to do this.
“Hannah, we don’t have a choice. You have to do this or our company will fold and then we’ll all be fucked.”
No. They’ll all be fucked. I escaped. I got out of the city and the crime and the possibility of working with the mafia and built myself a little life away from all of that, and now they want to tear it down and bring me back to hell. They can’t.
I can’t.
I push back my chair and stand up, shaking my head. They want to hear more from me, but I can’t seem to find any words. My tongue is stuck to the roof of my mouth and my head suddenly feels thick and fuzzy. There’s no way for me to talk to them, not right now.
Mitch stands, too. He towers over me, like he’s done since we were little kids. Forget the fact that we’re Irish twins, there’s nothing about us that makes us even feel like siblings.
All he’s ever wanted to do was follow in dad’s shoes, while I turned and ran at the first opportunity.
He’s already settled down with a nice wife and has a baby on the way. I’m not sure I want to get married.
Mitch would do anything for his family.
Up until this moment, I would have said that I would do anything for them, too. But there’s no way that I can do this. I’d do anything for them.
But I can’t marry someone I don’t know. I don’t love.
Fuck, I can’t marry someone in the mafia.
Chapter 2
Arlo
I don’t get mad at Pops very often. Okay, I got pissed a while ago when Roque brought Eva home even though she knew way more than she should, but that all worked out in the end. I think that it’s fair for me to get frustrated about that when it was the safety of the family at risk, but this?
This is something that I’m not terribly keen on doing.
“You want me to marry this broad?” For fuck’s sake, he’s said it three times already, but I need to hear it from him again. I need him to look me in the fucking eyes while he tells me that he wants me to marry a broad I’ve never met and for what reason?
To tie her father’s company to our construction company? It seems far-fetched, even for me, and I’m the most ride-or-die motherfucker in the Torenti family.
Pops sighs like I’m dense as fuck, which, maybe I am. Who knows. I do know that you find out the real substance of a man when you test him, and let me tell you. I’m being tested right now.
I already finished my whiskey, but Matty is sitting next to me and hasn’t touched his, so I grab it and toss it back. It’s the good stuff, smooth as hell on the way down, which should have been a fucking clue that Pops was about to drop a major bomb on one of us.
I just didn’t think that it would be me.
“You heard me, Arlo,” Pops says, leaning closer to make sure that I really hear him this time. His voice is smooth and dark, and I have to focus hard to keep from scooting away from him. I’m not afraid of Pops, but ever since he became don of the family when his dad died, he’s been taking his role seriously.
“Oh, I heard you. I just wasn’t sure if you had come to your senses between the first time that you told me this unreasonable bullshit and now.” It’s not smart to talk to him like that, but I don’t care. I don’t give a shit who this girl is or if her pussy tastes like beer. I’m not looking to settle down, and that’s that.
Roque’s sitting across the table from me at Pops’ right hand, which is where he’s sat since we were both in diapers. He’s the brother who’s going to take over the family business when Pops goes, not me, but he’s also married with plenty of little kiddos ensuring that the family name continues.
That’s why this bullshit task has fallen in my lap.
“Arlo.” Pops’ voice pulls my attention back to him. “I don’t give a shit what you think about this. I don’t care if you think that she’s a fucking horse or dull as a sack of bricks. You’re going to marry her, you’re going to pretend like you like it, and you’re going to ensure that we make this relationship with them, do you understand?”
The dining room falls silent. Nobody moves, not even Ricky or Valentino, who tend to have ants in their fucking pants when they get uncomfortable. Pops looks like he’s happy to pull out his piece and shoot me right here in my chair if I don’t do exactly as he tells me to do.
“Fuck!” I cry out, slamming my hands down on the table. It stings a little, which feels good, and I do it one more time. “Fine, you want me to marry the fucking broad? I will, but what in the fuck do I get out of it?”
Pops stands up and leans over me, his eyes flashing black. Across the table from me, I see Roque twitch in his seat, but he and I both know that he can’t stop whatever hell is about to rain down on me. I’ve done this to myself and right now I just need to sit here and take it.
“You will not only get a wife, but
you will be allowed to stay in your capacity with the family,” Pops says, his words all clear and crisp. He cuts each one off, enunciating them perfectly like he wants to make really fucking sure that his stupid son understands what he’s being told.
“You will make her happy, Arlo, even if you hate her. Not only that, but you will do it with a fucking smile on your face if you want to keep your face attached to the rest of your body. This…relationship with the Del Rossi family is what we need to ensure that we stay in power, and if that means that you have to suck it up and stick your cock in some pussy every once in a while, then you better figure out how to get okay with that. Do you understand?”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Pops hasn’t ever talked to me like this before. Even though I’m the younger brother, I never really managed to piss him off, and when I did, Ma was there to be a buffer.
But there’s no Ma now, and from the look of it, Roque isn’t going to be any help, either.
I guess that this is what they’re talking about when they say that you have to be willing to fall on a sword for your family. I’m cool with other people doing it, but I’ve never wanted to be the one sacrificing myself.
Roque catches my eye and slides another whiskey across the table to me. I nod at him and tip it up, enjoying the smooth way it slides down my throat. The more I drink, the more I relax, and the less likely I am to lose my mind.
“Is she smart? Pretty? Funny? What do we know about her?”
The least that my father can do is provide me with some information about the broad I have to marry.
He smiles at me and sits back down, obviously seeing that he’s won.
Yeah, you won, Pops. I’ll marry her. For the family. Everything for the family.
“I have a file on her.” Pops slides a large envelope to me. For a moment, I don’t touch it, but then I shake my head. It’s not like it’s going to bite me. Just take the fucking envelope.
It’s sealed tight, and I pick at the glue for a moment before deciding that I don’t want everyone around me when I learn about my bride. Standing, I turn to go, but then I turn back to Pops.
