THE CARETAKER BRIDE

I stood there, frozen, my hands stained with blood. It clung to my skin like a scar that wouldn't fade. My eyes drifted to Gaia's lifeless body, her once vibrant presence now absent like an empty shell. 
 
My heart pounded in my ears, and I could feel my breath shaking as I took a step back. I closed the door quietly, ensuring that Daniele wouldn't walk in and find her lifeless body. He didn't need to see this. No one did.
 
The sight of the red roses, discarded beside Gaia's body, hit me like a slap to the face. It was just as red as the blood that stained the sheets beneath her. 
 
I dialed my father's number, the sound of it ringing a little too loud, and too harsh in the silence of the room.
 
"Father," I spoke, my voice urgent, emotionless, and hollow. I had no room for grief. Not now. Not ever. "Gaia is dead."
 
The silence that followed, was long, and unbearable. Then my father's voice sliced through it, tight and strained. "Can you repeat that?"
 
"Gaia is dead," I said it again, the words heavy, and deliberate. It was done, and there was no taking it back.
 
"Nicolas-" His voice cracked, but I didn't have time for his questions. I didn't have time for his grief.
 
"Someone needs to clean this up before the kids see it." My words were detached, cold, as though I were speaking of something trivial. "Send a clean-up crew and inform Luca." I didn't wait for a response. I ended the call, letting the phone slip from my fingers. It hit the floor with a dull thud, but I barely noticed.
 
*********************
 
When my wife died, everyone expected me to react like any "normal" man would. You know, the sadness, the tearful looks, the sobbing. But I'm no normal man, and grief wasn't my burden. It was anger. Pure, unfiltered, burning anger as I watched them lower her coffin into the ground, sealing away the eight years of a marriage that had felt, from the very start, like a trap, I couldn't escape. Chains that were binding, heavy and tight.
 
The eight years ended on our anniversary. Poetic, some might say. Fate, others would argue. I'd call it ironic if it didn't fill me with more bitterness than I could handle. Fitting, maybe, for those onlookers, but to me, Gaia's death didn't bring any closure. And as I watched that box sink, there wasn't a drop of sorrow in me. Not one tear.
 
The heat of the summer sun beat down relentlessly on me, sweat trickling down my face, but it wasn't grief that weighed me down. My father's hand on my shoulder tightened, steadying himself or maybe steadying me-I wasn't even sure. He'd grown so frail since his last heart attack, his skin paper-thin and eyes clouded with cataracts. Losing Gaia had taken more out of him than it had out of me, but I knew that meant I had to step up. I had to be the strong one now, for both of us. For everyone.
 
Standing there, surrounded by the Famiglia's underbosses and every important figure who could make the trip, I saw their faces-masks of sadness hiding whispers and glances that didn't go unnoticed. Even Luca Vitiello, our Capo, had flown in from New York with his wife to pay respects. They'd come to watch, to see if Gaia's death had left some kind of crack in my armor. As the youngest Underboss with power over Philadelphia, I knew they'd look for weakness.
 
At least my children, Daniele and Simona, were too young to understand. Daniele clung to my leg, lost, while Simona lay asleep in my arms. She was only four months old, already without a mother. My mind boiled with resentment as the mourners filed by, offering empty condolences. A mask. All of it. Fake.
 
After the funeral, they all gathered at my mansion. It felt like a spectacle as everyone sized me up, their looks almost expectant. Sybil, our maid, handed me Simona, who had cried the whole night before, now exhausted in my arms. Daniele looked at me with big doe eyes, her innocent face a remainder of the situation of our reality. My mother, sisters, even my father-they were all watching, waiting to see if I'd stumble, break, or crack; just about anything that'll show a weakness.
 
As the condolences turned into quiet whispers, my father pulled me aside. His voice was tired, urging me to "find a mother for the children." I didn't respond. I'd just buried Gaia, and he was talking about a replacement. Mia, my sister, muttered something under her breath about how Gaia had never taken care of me anyway. But I silenced them. Now wasn't the time.
 
Then Luca approached with an idea, something he and my father had already discussed. His uncle Felix, who ruled Baltimore, had a daughter, Isabella-unmarried. She'd be eighteen soon, and a union would benefit both of our territories greatly. She wasn't even of age yet, and already my family and my Capo were pulling the strings for my next move. As if I'd be swayed so easily. I was Philadelphia's Underboss, not a pawn. I'd make my own choice to take a wife in my own time.
 
I turned back to the house, ignoring the murmurs behind me. My children needed me now, not another arranged marriage or a stranger taking Gaia's place. And as I held them both, it was clearer than ever: they were my life, my choices, my future.
 
***
 
Faro handed me a martini and slumped into the armchair across from me, his gaze filled with concern and the slightest smirk. "You look like some half-starved hellhound, Nicolas."
 
I forced a tight thin smile. "Another sleepless night. Gave me the eye bags; guess that explains the hound look?"
 
He snorted, then gave me a disapproving look. "Just say yes to Rizzo already. You need a wife, Nicolas. You could have one in less than four months. Felix is desperate to bring you into his family. If he weren't, he'd be lining up another husband for his daughter. Yet here he is, waiting for you to finally make up your mind."
 
I drank half my martini in one gulp, ignoring the burn tugging down my throat. "There's a fourteen-year gap between us. You realize I'd be waiting for that girl to turn eighteen? And where I come from, marrying with that kind of age gap... It feels like abuse."
 
"Then marry a widow. And where I come from, a man without a woman is a sorry excuse. Besides, you really want a woman who's hung up on another man after Gaia? Come on." Faro looked at me, disappointed.
 
I grimaced. I'd been avoiding thoughts of Gaia, doing my best to keep her out of my headspace. Daniele had stopped asking about her, he'd realized on his own that she wasn't coming back. The boy had gone quiet, his voice almost never heard anymore. Poor kid.
 
"No," I said, my voice hard. "No widow." I wasn't about to take on a woman haunted by some stupid memories of another man, living or dead. And I definitely didn't want my kids competing for their mother's attention with step-siblings. They needed every ounce of love and care, which I knew I couldn't give-not the way they deserved.
 
"For Heaven's sake, call Rizzo. What's the holdup? The girl will be of age soon enough."
 
I shot him a warning look.
 
"Other men would kill to have a young, beautiful girl in their bed again, and here you are, playing woe-is-me when one's being handed to you on a silver platter."
 
"If we weren't childhood friends, I'd be taking a finger off you for that tone," I muttered.
 
Faro just raised his glass, smirking. "Good thing we're friends, then."
 
After another sleepless night full of my kids' cries echoing all through the house, I finally picked up the phone the next morning and dialed his number. It wasn't a moment of weakness, its desperation; I'm an underboss not a nanny, i have no idea the hell, on how to care for babies.
 
"Hello, Felix. It's Nicolas."
 
"Nicolas! What a pleasure." Felix's voice had that expectant, almost smug edge I'd anticipated. "I assume you've come to a decision about bonding with my daughter?"
 
"I'll marry her," I replied, feeling it more as an obligation than a choice. But I needed the stability, for my kids' sake and for my own. "I can't wait long, though. My children need a mother, and soon."
 
"Of course, of course. Isabella is a caring young woman. How about we arrange the wedding for early November, right after her eighteenth birthday?"
 
I gritted my teeth. "All right. That's reasonable."
 
"I'd like you to meet her beforehand," Felix continued, "so we can go over details for the celebration. Setting up a grand wedding in such short time will really... florish the air."
 
I held back a sigh. I could already feel the weight of all the expectations and logistics they'd lay at my feet. A "grand celebration" wasn't exactly what I had in mind. But I had other priorities now, ones that didn't include personal preferences.
 
"Fine," I said. "But I don't have time to get involved in planning. If your wife wants it big, she'll need to handle the arrangements herself."
 
"Not a problem at all," Felix replied smoothly. "When can we expect you? There's much to go over."
 
I thought for a moment. Sybil, my maid, had agreed to stay for the weekend to watch the kids. "In two days. But I can't stay long."
 
"Perfect," he said, sounding relieved. "You're making the right choice, Nicolas. Isabella is wonderful."
 
I ended the call, but even then, I felt no relief. Not in the slightest.

During dinner, I noticed my father was completely distracted, his gaze resting on me, as if he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to. My mother, on the other hand, looked like she'd just received an invitation to an exclusive Chanel summer sale.
 
I waited for my father's permission to leave, after i finished my meal. My mind was already drifting to the painting I'd spent hours on that morning. It was a project I'd been immersed in, especially now that I'd graduated high school, finally giving my creative side some space to breathe.
 
Then suddenly my dad cleared his throat rather loudly. "We need to have a talk with you," he said.
 
My pulse quickened. The last time he'd used those words was when he'd told me my fiancé had been killed in a Bratva attack. The news hadn't affected me as deeply as I thought it would have; we'd only met once, years ago, and there was no connection between us. In short, i was somewhat grateful; the universe just wasn't in his position that day. 
 
My mother had grieved more than I did-but not for him. Her grief was for the scandal of me being left without a fiancé at seventeen. Like ... i wasn't even supposed to have one in first place but i guess that's beside the point.
 
"We've found you a new husband," my father announced, barely hiding his excitement.
 
"Oh," was all I managed to say. I'd expected marriage to come up eventually, though I'd hoped I might have some say in making the choice this time around.
 
"He's an Underboss!" my mother blurted out, grinning.
 
I raised an eyebrow, understanding her excitement. My late fiancé had only been the son of a Captain-a match that had clearly been underwhelming for my over ambitious mother. I wracked my brain, trying to think of any Underboss close to my age, but came up blank. "Who is he?" I asked.
 
My father looked away. "Nicolas Moretti."
 
Shit !
 
My mouth fell open. The name Nicolas Moretti had echoed through the Famiglia for months. Known as the cruelest Underboss, he'd recently lost his wife, leaving him to care for his two young children alone. Rumors about her death were rampant: some said he'd killed her in a rage, others claimed she'd died from the stress of his rule, and the most chilling theory suggested she had taken her own life to escape him. None of it made me eager to meet him, let alone to even marry him.
 
"He's much older than me," I finally said.
 
"Thirteen years, Isabella. He's a man in his prime," my mother replied sharply.
 
"Why does he want me?" I asked, bewildered. We'd never met; he didn't even know me. I had no experience raising children.
 
"You're a Rizzo. The union of two prominent families is always desirable," she explained, with a wide smile spread across her lips..
 
I glanced at my father, but he was focused on his wine glass. Only recently, he'd mentioned Nicolas in passing, saying Luca, their Capo, had made him Underboss because they were alike-both relentless, pitiless, and physically intimidating.
 
Now, my father was offering me to a man like that.
 
"When?" I asked, sensing my mother already knew the details.
 
"One day after your birthday," she replied with a smile.
 
I raised an eyebrow. "I'm surprised you waited until I came of age. We're hardly known for following the law."
 
Her expression dulled. "Lose that tone before meeting Nicolas. A man like him won't tolerate insolence."
 
I clenched my hands under the table. My mother's driving force had always been to elevate our family's standing in the familiganothing more. She couldn't care less if her actions where ending my life potentially.
 
She stood and brushed a hand over my cheek. "This will be the event of the year," she declared, clearly already planning the wedding.
 
She looked me over critically. "I'm not sure Nicolas will approve of your sullenness... or those bangs."
 
"She looks fine, Egidia," my father interjected.
 
My mother pursed her lips. "Pretty, but not sophisticated or ladylike."
 
"If Nicolas wants a lady, he shouldn't be robbing cradles," I muttered.
 
She gasped, hand flying to her heart, my words. My shocking her while my father stifled a laugh with a cough.
 
Once my mother left in a huff, my father sighed, giving me a weary smile. "Your mother only wants what's best for you."
 
"She wants what's best for our status. How is marrying a ruthless man good for me, Dad?"
 
"Come on," he said, gesturing toward the garden. "Let's take a walk."
 
I took his arm, and we stepped into the warm, humid night. "Nicolas isn't that old, Isabella. Just thirty-one."
 
I tried to picture someone around his age, but my mind kept drifting to Luca, my cousin, whose cold demeanor and arkwardstance terrified me. If Nicolas was like that...
 
A flicker of unease crossed my face. "What if he's-"
 
"Don't look at me like that, Isabella. Becoming Nicolas's wife isn't as dire as you think."
 
"You once called him 'irrevocably cruel.' Remember?"
 
He nodded, guilt shadowing his eyes. "To his men and the enemy. Not to you."
 
"How can you be sure?" My voice trembled. "What if he killed his wife?"
 
"Luca assured me Nicolas wasn't responsible."
 
"You trust Luca? Didn't you say he's trying to consolidate power?"
 
He sighed. "I told you too much."
 
"How can Luca even know what happened to Mrs. Moretti? Family matters stay private."
 
His grip on my shoulders tightened. "Nicolas won't lay a hand on you if he knows what's good for him."
 
But I knew my father wouldn't risk confronting Nicolas if it came to it. Nicolas had Luca's favor. My father would suffer if he interfered.
 
"He'll come to meet you tomorrow," my father added, almost as an afterthought.
 
"Tomorrow?" I asked, startled. I'd assumed their first meeting would be formal, with me staying in my room as they discussed my future without my choice.

Mom had made it clear that to me, that i wasn't to meet Nicolas until our official introduction at dinner. I was supposed to stay in my room all afternoon like a good girl while my parents and supposed future husband discussed my future as if i were a child with no right to choices.
 
I was dressed in my favorite denim overall dress, with a white tank top adorned with sunflowers beneath it, i patiently waited until i heard the bell. I took off my shoe and walked barefoot, moving quietly, creeping toward the upper landing and avoiding the creaky boards. 
 
I knelt down, making myself self as small as possible, and peered through the banister. From the sound of voices and my mum high pitched feminine greeting, my parents were exchanging pleasantries with the two men. My father appeared first, smiling his business smile, followed by her mother, who radiated delight. Then two men entered my field of view.
 
It wasn't hard to guess which one was Nicolas. He towered over her father and the other man. I could see why they compared him to Luca. Broad and tall, hopefully he just had his looks; he wore a dark-blue three-piece suit that only made him appear more imposing. His expression was like steel-blank, unmoving and cold. Even her mother's flirtations didn't manage to get a smile from him. At least the other man looked like he was enjoying himself. Nicolas didn't look old and certainly not overweight. His muscles were clearly defined, even under the layers of suit that fitted him perfectly. His face was a collection of sharp angles, and his dark stubble looked intentionally maintained-not the kind that came from lack of time or care.
 
Nicolas was a grown man, powerful, and commanding. And I - had just finished high school. What was there for us to talk about? My high school curriculum or his dead wife, i thought, with an eye roll.
 
I loved modern art, drawing, and Pilates. But idoubted any of that would interest a man like him. Torture, laundering money, and perhaps a few hired women were likely more his style. A rush of anxiety tightened my stomach. In less than four months, i'd be expected to sleep with this stranger, this man who might have driven his wife to her death. My hearts was already taking summersaults from the anxiety that grew in me.
 
But then, a flicker of guilt followed. I was making assumptions. Nicolas had lost his wife and was left to care for his children alone. Maybe he was grieving. But the coldness in his demeanor didn't suggest it, he looked like a lot of things but definitely not a grieving man.
 
Still, men like Nicolas were trained to hide their emotions from a young age. His lack of expression could mean nothing at all. I guess.
 
"Why don't we go into my office for a glass of my best cognac and talk about the marriage?" my father suggested, motioning down the corridor.
 
Nicolas inclined his head, acknowledging the offer.
 
"I'll make sure everything's taken care of in the kitchen. The chef is preparing a feast for tonight," my mother added, her enthusiasm as evident as the wide smile plastered on her face all morning.
 
Both Nicolas and the other man gave her mother tight-lipped smiles.
 
Did Nicolas ever really smile with his eyes or his heart?
 
Once they had all disappeared from view, I hurried downstairs and slipped into the library, which was next to the office. Pressing my ear against the connecting door, i strained to listen to their conversations.
 
"This union will be good for both of us," my father's voice echoed.
 
"Have you told Isabella about the bond yet?"
 
Hearing Nicolas's deep voice say myname for the first time made her heart skip. That would be the way i'd hear it for the rest of her life. Blunt and emotionless.
 
Dad cleared his throat. I could tell from the sound that he was uncomfortable. "Yes, last night."
 
"How did she react?"
 
"Isabella is aware that it's an honor to marry an Underboss."
 
I couldn't help but roll my eyes,  wishing i could see their faces.
 
"That doesn't answer my question, Felix," Nicolas said, his tone sharp. "She's not only going to be my wife. I need her to be a mother to my children. You realize that, yes?"
 
"Isabella is a very caring and responsible... woman." The word felt strange as it left my father's lips, and i took a moment to register it. I didn't feel like a woman yet. "She's looked after her brother's child on occasion and enjoyed it."
 
I had played with my brother's toddler for a few minutes, but i had never changed a diaper or fed a child.
 
"I can assure you Isabella will satisfy you," father continued.
 
My cheeks flamed. There was a long pause. Had Nicolas and his companion misinterpreted father's words, as i had?
 
Her father cleared his throat again. "Have you told Luca yet?"
 
"Last night, after our call, yes."
 
The conversation shifted to an upcoming meeting with the Capo, and my mind wandered as i lost track of the details.
 
"I need to call home. Faro and I would like to relax a bit before dinner. It's been a long day," Nicolas's voice came again.
 
"Of course. You can go ahead through that door. The library is quiet, and we still have an hour until I introduce you to my daughter."
 
I quickly stumbled away from the door, my heart racing. I  heardfootsteps approaching. The door handle turned, and in a panic, i  slipped behind one of the bookshelves, pressing myself against it. She peeked around to see Nicolas and Faro step into the room. Father offered them another stiff smile before closing the door behind them, locking me in the library with them. 
 
How would i get upstairs with both of them in the room?
 
"And?" Faro asked.
 
Nicolas moved deeper into the room and closer to my hiding spot. His frown was still there, but some of the tension had faded. "Exhausting. Mrs. Rizzo, in particular. I hope her daughter doesn't take after her."
 
My jaw tightened. My mother was exhausting, yes, but Nicolas's words still stung.
 
"Have you seen a photo of her?" Faro asked, picking up a frame from the side table with a chuckle.
 
I widened my eyes  in horror. Faro was holding up a photo of me from when i was nine years old. I was grinning widely, braces showing, two small sunflowers adorning her pigtails, and wearing a polka-dotted dress with red rubber boots. Myfatherhad kept that photo on display despite my mother's protests. Now, i wished he had listened to her.
 
"Fuck it, Faro. Put that down," Nicolas snapped, making me flinch. "I feel like a fucking pedophile looking at that child."
 
Faro set the frame down. "She's a cute kid. It could be worse."
 
"I sincerely hope she got rid of those braces and awful bangs," Nicolas muttered.
 
My hand flew to her bangs. A mix of anger and embarrassment swelled inside of me.
 
"It works for the schoolgirl look," Faro teased.
 
"I don't want to fuck a goddamn schoolgirl," Nicolas's voice was harsh.
 
My elbow bumped a book on the shelf, sending it toppling over with a loud thud.
 
Silence fell over the room.
 
I panicked, my hand flying over my mouth as i quickly tried to slip into the next aisle, but it was too late. A shadow loomed over me, and i collided with a solid body. I stumbled backward, hitting the bookshelf with a painful thud.
 
My head shot up, cheeks bright red. "I'm sorry, sir," I blurted without thought, my manners instinctively kicking in despite the situation.
 
Nicolas glared down at me, his face hardening. Then, something shifted in his expression as he realized who i was.
 
As far as first impressions went, this one could have gone a lot smoother.