Page 7 of Explosive Union

“Fine,” I say as I get to my feet and fasten the button on my jacket.

My father glares at me. “That woman you’ve been seeing—no more. These Irish are different from us Italians. They take marriage vows seriously. You are now betrothed to the girl. There’ll be no affairs, Rocco. I will not go to war over you and your lack of self-control.”

Getting a reprimand from my father over my sex life is something I could have gone my entire life without having.

“So, I’m to be a fucking choir boy until I say I do?” I ask, disgusted. Not that Monica and I have anything more than fun. We both knew the score when we started this. I was never going to be the man to sweep her off her feet and marry her. I’ve known for the past three years that I’d be marrying Jade Gallagher. A woman I haven’t met before. Nor have I seen a photograph of her since puberty.

“Yes,” he answers simply. “Surely you can manage that? I mean, three weeks isn’t that far away.”

I can do it, but it doesn’t mean I want to.

“Why the hell is the wedding taking place so quickly? I mean, the woman has just been released from prison,” Elio says. The fucker hasn’t stopped smiling since our father announced the news. “Surely she’d want to let loose for a bit.”

I glare at the ass. Why on earth would he say that shit? I don’t want to think of my soon-to-be wife fucking someone.

“I don’t know. That’ll be something we’ll discuss tomorrow.” My father sits back in his chair, his fingers interlocked behind his head. “Liam Gallagher has offered us a meeting tomorrow if you’d like to meet your fiancée before the party. He says it’ll be a discreet meeting, just us and the Gallaghers.” He looks directly at me. “I suggest you take the meeting, Rocco. It’ll give you time to speak with your bride-to-be and find some common ground before the big day.”

“No doubt tomorrow evening, thePrincipessawill be the center of everyone’s attention. You’ll not get a look in,” Elio smirks.

I roll my eyes at the dramatics. Christ, he needs to shut the fuck up. He’s pissing me off, and he damn well knows it.

My father nods. “Not to mention, at the party, all eyes will be on you. Every member of the Gallagher-Bianchi family will be in attendance. From everything I have heard, Jade isn’t just cherished by her family here in Illinois. The entire fucking Clann adores the girl, not to mention the Bianchi family. That’s a whole lot of protection that will have no qualms in taking you out if you hurt her.”

I chuckle at the warning. “You’re warning me because…?”

He grins. “Just thought I’d let you know. I want this alliance, Rocco, but if those fuckers come for you, we’ll take them out.” His jaw is set with determination, his eyes blazing with fury at even the thought of anyone trying to go to war with us.

I smile. There’s the man I grew up admiring. The fearless leader who wouldn’t think twice about killing anyone who disrespected him or his family. Yes, he may want this alliance—he’s got ambitions for the Gallos to become the Cosa Nostra; to be the biggest in the US—but he’ll take out anyone who tries to harm anyone under his protection.

“What time tomorrow?” I question, with regards to the meeting with my future bride.

“We’ll go together,” my father instructs. “Meet here at ten, and do not be a minute late.”

I nod. “I’ll be here. Where’s Nonna?”

He shakes his head. “In the kitchen, doing what she does best.”

“Annoying the ever-loving shit out of Mom?” Dario chuckles.

“That too, but she’s cooking for you three little shits,” he tells us. “I swear, that woman loves to cause trouble. Your mom threatens to kill her on a daily basis.”

I bite back the smirk. “That’s what you get for having your mom and wife living in the same house. Chaos ensues.”

“That it does, son, so you’d best remember that, because I can always tell your nonna that you want her to live with you once you’re married.”

I scowl at him. Fuck no. Nonna is okay in small doses. Any more than that and I’m wanting to kill her.

“Tomorrow,” my father says, dismissing us.

Dario, Elio, and I go in search of Nonna. It doesn’t take us long to find her.

“Natalia, get out of my kitchen,” Nonna screams, her accent heavier as it is anytime she gets emotional. Usually it’s when she’s angry.

“Rosa,” Mom replies, exasperated. “When are you going to realize that it ismykitchen, and the only reason your ass isn’t in a home is because of me. Keep pushing me, woman, and you’ll soon end up there.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and sigh.

“They’ve been arguing for the past thirty minutes,” Viviana tells us. My youngest sister is thirteen, though she acts older than Adelina, who is twenty-five.