Marco stepped forward, positioning Carla behind him like some kind of shield, his face wearing this weird, expectant expression. But I didn't give him the reaction he was clearly hoping for.
Minutes passed, and his smug little face started to falter. Then, he sneered, "Well, look at that. At least you've grown up a little. No screaming or throwing a fit like you used to."
I didn't even dignify his jab with a response.
As the gathering at the social club wound down and the made men drifted toward the doors, their drivers already idling at the curb, Marco stopped me in my tracks.
"It's late, and these streets aren't safe for a Bellandi woman alone," he said. "I'll have you driven home."
Since I wasn't about to walk through Falcone territory after dark, I didn't argue. I climbed into the back of the car, but Marco was faster than me. He blocked the front passenger seat and said, "You're sitting in the back."
With that, he gently helped Carla into the front seat, like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"I'm sorry, Adriana," Carla said with feigned concern. "Marco's just being protective. He's afraid I'll get car sick…"
I didn't say anything. I just slid into the backseat, exactly where I'd planned to sit in the first place.
The whole ride was just Marco and Carla talking and laughing like they were the only two people on the planet. At a red light, Carla teased Marco, asking him to help her with some lip balm.
They exchanged this look, and I swear, the tension in the air thickened.
Marco whipped his head toward the rearview mirror like he'd just remembered I was in the car. When his eyes met mine, and I pointedly stared out the window, trying to ignore them, his expression faltered for a moment. He smoothed back his hair with one hand, and his laugh came a beat too quick.
For a moment, I saw raw anger flash across his face. Then, before I could even process it, he slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.
When we pulled up to my place, Marco did something I really wasn't expecting. He grabbed my arm again.
"Alright, enough with the act," he said, his tone dismissive. "Don't pretend like you don't care. It's beneath you." With that, he shoved a bracelet into my hand. "This is your engagement gift from me," he added, his voice dripping with condescension. "As long as you stay in line, I'll throw you a wedding. At least, on paper, the whole famiglia will think you're my wife."
I glanced up at him, locking eyes. "And who exactly are you planning to marry? Carla?"
Marco's face twisted with rage, but there was something almost smug underneath it, as if he was enjoying the chaos he was causing.
"I knew it. You've been pretending the whole time," he sneered. "Listen up. Don't you dare breathe a word of this to anyone in either of our houses. What's between me and Carla is none of your business. She's kind and fragile, nothing like your petty little schemes." His voice dropped low, almost a warning. "If you ever hurt her, don't think for a second I'll still go through with this wedding."
I couldn't help but laugh. He was too much of a coward to be honest with the Falcone elders, too afraid of what Don Lorenzo's blood would say. And yet somehow, I was the one painted as the villain in all of this.
I didn't say another word. I just turned on my heel and walked into my building, the weight of it all pressing down on me. My thumb moved on its own, tracing the bare inside of my ring finger.
The moment I stepped through the door, my phone buzzed in my hand. It was a video from Carla.
I hesitated before opening it, but when I did, there they were. Marco, gently helping Carla fasten a necklace around her neck. The brand was unmistakable. And then it hit me: the bracelet Marco had just given me was the freebie that came with that very necklace.
They were so close, their necks almost touching. And then, as the camera zoomed in, they kissed. The sound of it pierced the silence of the car. Sharp, intrusive, like a slap to my chest.
[Adriana, Marco must have told you by now, right? After the wedding, he's going to marry me for real.]
[Just so you know, without a real marriage, there's no claim to the inheritance. Guess it's my turn to become the richest woman in this city!]
Carla… she'd been reborn too.
It all clicked. Even though Marco and Carla had no connection in our past life, this time, just days into it, they were already acting like a couple. Doing all the things lovers do.
It was as if they had an unspoken understanding. As if they were trying to pick up exactly where they left off.
I lowered my gaze, memories of my past life flooding back. I thought about when I first married into the Falcone bloodline.
Right after the wedding, it felt like everything changed. The Family's fronts started drawing partners out of the woodwork, locking down new territory and new earners left and right.
The Falcone operations swelled, their tribute pouring in, and before long, they had risen to the most powerful house on the West Coast.
