Chapter 2

Vittoria

Visible relief washed over their faces.

"Good girl," Aldo muttered. "Once Bianca comes back, your mother and I will find you a solid husband."

"Someone from a smaller family," Silvana chimed in. "You'll have an easier life that way. Less pressure."

I gave them a polite, practiced smile and turned away.

Wait for Bianca to come back?

By the time she does, I'll already be the new Mrs. Falcone.

The next morning, I threw on a simple but tailored dress and headed straight for the Falcone estate.

The Syndicate ran on blood and old money. For a lower-tier family like the Rossis, marrying into the Falcones was the ultimate power grab. It was exactly why my parents were so desperate to save that spot for Bianca.

But why the hell would I play along?

I started with Roman's grandmother, Donna Olimpia.

She was an old-school mafia matriarch—strict, ruthless, and highly traditional. She took an immediate liking to my quiet confidence and the homemade lasagna I brought over.

After that, I made visiting the estate a daily habit. Sometimes I cooked, other times I just sat and kept the old woman company.

I didn't bend over backward to kiss Roman's ass. Instead, I quietly and effortlessly slipped into his everyday life.

After running into me a few times at the estate, Roman told me to dress up. He needed a plus-one for an elite underworld gala.

It was my first event of this scale. I caught him watching me closely, probably bracing himself for a disaster. After all, a girl raised in the Brooklyn projects shouldn't know the first thing about high-society mob etiquette.

Instead, I blew his expectations out of the water.

I handled capos, dirty politicians, and socialites with perfect ease. I looked exactly like a mafia princess born into the life.

At one point, Roman actually let out a low chuckle. Under the dim chandelier light, his icy gaze thawed just a little.

"Where did you pick all this up?" he asked, swirling the bourbon in his glass. "Bianca said the family that raised you was broke. You shouldn't know how to work a room like this."

Broke? That was an understatement.

My mind flashed to the moldy walls, the drafty windows, and the constant beatings from my foster parents in the projects.

Yet, my smile never slipped.

"I didn't want to embarrass the Falcone name tonight. So I used my own money and hired two top-tier etiquette coaches."

"Well, it paid off." Roman looked genuinely impressed. "You're a fast learner, Vittoria."

I just smiled, sipping my champagne.

When I first returned to the Rossis, Bianca loved mocking me behind my back. She laughed at how rough I was, how ignorant tracking the rules of their world.

I still remembered our first meeting. She bawled her eyes out, apologizing for taking my place, while deliberately flaunting a custom designer dress that cost luxury cars.

She used her pampered skin to highlight how malnourished I looked. She used her twenty years of private schooling to make my street-survival instincts look like pure trash.

So, the second I got my hands on some real cash, I hired the best coaches in New York.

Whatever Bianca knew, I'd learn. Whatever she couldn't do, I'd master.

But Roman didn't need to know that.

"Just doing my part," I replied smoothly.

Roman smirked. He reached into his tailored jacket and pulled out a limitless black AMEX.

"We're officially engaged. You need anything from now on, swipe this."

I gave him a bright, playful smile and tucked it into my clutch. "Thanks, Roman."

From that night on, the ice between us started to melt.

I'd drop by his office at headquarters with food, using Donna Olimpia as my excuse. I tagged along to inspect various syndicate properties.

But I never crossed the line. I never suffocated him like Bianca did.

Over the next two months, he just got used to having me around.

But what really tipped the scales was a sit-down with the Corsicans.

Roman was negotiating a massive underground shipping route with a group of French arms dealers. Right in the middle of the tense meeting, his lead translator went down with a convenient "medical emergency."

The multimillion-dollar deal was seconds away from blowing up in his face.

Without missing a beat, I stepped up.

I took over, using flawless, commanding French to smooth out the tension and close the deal.

When the ink finally dried on the contract, Roman just stared at me.

I stood by the window, letting the afternoon sun catch my face, and offered him an easy smile.

He looked stunned. Like he was finally seeing me for the first time.

When we parted ways that evening, his dark eyes were heavy with something I hadn't seen before.

"Vittoria," he said quietly, the usual ice in his voice completely gone. "You're nothing like what I expected. You're... full of surprises."