Love story with a mafia

**Ten Years Ago...**

The sun burned fiercely on the car's windshield that summer morning. If there were several things I hated in life, heat was one of them. It was irritating, made me sweat, and gave me a headache. However, it was a day when I couldn't let something as trivial as the weather bother me.

It had been a week since my father was killed in an ambush by a rival family, and I had quickly had to take over the family business. Even though I had been prepared for this my whole life, as a prince trained from childhood to take charge of a kingdom, nothing was quite like practice. A traumatic event, like the death of a parent, suddenly thrusts you out of the shadows and makes you an emperor.

Fortunately, I had my younger brothers by my side. They might say it was foolish, but I entrusted them with my own life. Theo and Mateo were with me when I got out of the car in front of a large mansion in Almada, a town near Lisbon.

I slammed the door, hearing the impact before my strength, and adjusted the sunglasses on my nose. Damn sun making my head throb. I straightened my blazer, ensuring the gun tucked in my belt was covered. I shook my head and styled my black hair before following my men into the grand mansion. The very bright and well-lit hall seemed to overshadow the dirty money with which this house and the cars in the garage were probably purchased.

Like any leader in my position, I was responsible for politics. It was impossible to maintain a good regime without important alliances, and it was my duty in light of my meeting with Afonso Barbosa, the head of the largest Portuguese mafia.

I walked down the beautifully decorated hallway, lined with paintings I didn't care about, and entered a huge living room. My men stood at the entrance, peacefully but with their hands near their weapons, ready to use them if anything became uncontrollable.

The man sitting in a brown leather armchair stood up, holding a glass of whiskey. He had a serious expression, but he smiled when his brown eyes met mine at the entrance of the room, his demeanor proud and firm. I was only twenty-six, but my rifle had already fired more bullets than I could count.

"Marco Belluci."

"Afonso Barbosa."

"It's a pleasure to see you agree to come to my home."

"We go where business leads us, right?" I shrugged and flashed my friendliest smile. I admit I wasn't good at this; my mother had called me grumpy since I was a kid. I always frowned, and they barely saw me laugh or play with other children. She complained that my father had placed the crowd's weight on my shoulders too early, but I think he did well; otherwise, I wouldn't have been so ready for his death if he had done it differently.

"You're right." The man set his glass down on a round table beside the armchair and stepped toward me.

My men didn't move, simply staring at his, who also had guns in hand. If either party decided to shoot, a real massacre would certainly ensue, which was no good for anyone.

"The union of families through marriage is a very ancient custom used to seal agreements for millennia."

Unfortunately, a great idiocy that had persisted, I just thought. I knew, since I was ready to take this position, that often my personal opinion would clash with the interests of my empire and would have to be set aside, just like this time. Negotiations with Afonso had begun even before my father's death, and after taking office, I couldn't back down; otherwise, it would create hostility with the Portuguese that we didn't need. Moreover, this agreement would be advantageous.

"We need your port for the smuggling entry from Latin America, and you need our protection against the Costas, so that seems fair enough to me."

"For that, I will deliver to you the most precious asset I have."

I remained still but had to refrain from scoffing. That nonsense wouldn't work on me. No man would hand over his daughter to the mafia boss of another country if she was truly his most precious asset.

"Do you want to see her?"

I nodded. That was why I was here, to meet my future wife. Like for other sovereigns throughout history, marriage was just a simple political game and didn't involve the desire of the heart. This point about my position had been very clear to me since I was a child, and I had no illusions that I would choose a girl I would fall in love with and swear love and fidelity for the rest of my life. I would have a wife to strengthen the mafia and as many whores as needed to satisfy my manly desires.

"Please come with me." He pointed to the stairs, and I nodded.

Mateo took a step to follow me, but I raised my hand for him to stop. I would go up alone, and my attitude alone was a vote of confidence. Afonso slid his fingers along the dark wooden railing and ascended the stairs. At a comfortable distance, I followed him. My weapon was within reach, and I wore a bulletproof vest under my suit and well-pressed clothes. I trusted my ally, but I wasn't foolish.

We entered a hallway and headed toward the second-to-last door. Still at a comfortable distance, I waited for Afonso to open the door. He looked inside and waited for me to approach.

The first thing I noticed when looking into the room was the pink walls and the canopy bed that seemed fit for a princess. Ironically, nothing suited the wife of a king better. There was a huge shelf filled with toys, and sitting on a fluffy white rug was a little girl playing with a doll. She was distracted and seemed to be having fun, so it took her a while to notice my presence alongside her father. But when she saw us, she got up and ran away, using the pink armchair as a shield to protect herself from my curious and distinctly surprised gaze.

"It's just a girl!" I turned to Afonso with a mix of confusion and outrage. "I was hoping to come here and find a woman, not a kid I'd have to take care of. How old is she?"

"She's eleven." He swallowed hard.

I couldn't claim to be a straight man; I had committed many atrocities in the name of the mafia and would do even worse, but taking an eleven-year-old girl as a wife was unthinkable.

"She still plays with dolls." I shook my head.

"I can't imagine you're going to marry her now! I beg you, but you can keep her under your guardianship until she's old enough to become your wife."

My first instinct was to say no. I had too many worries, and I didn't want a child to become one of them. But she was the price to pay for controlling one of the most strategic ports in the Atlantic.