My Fiancé Wants Two Brides

As the Principessa of the Moretti family, I was being forced to marry a common soldato.

All because Aidan Callahan, the man I grew up with, decided to call in a blood debt—one earned over three generations of his family taking bullets for mine. He leveraged that grim history to force a promise from my father that he couldn't break: my hand in marriage.

Furious, my father stormed the Callahan casino with a crew of his men, only to find Aidan at a card table, draping his jacket over a stripper named Isabelle.

Aidan turned his head and chuckled. "Don Moretti. After protecting her for twenty years, you must know I wouldn't want to see her truly suffer. This is just a way to move things along."

"All she has to do is swallow that pride of hers and accept that Isabelle is part of the picture now."

"Don't worry, Isabelle is a good girl I helped out of a jam. She's smart, knows her place. She'll show Seraphina the proper respect."

Isabelle was a stripper he’d bought off the stage, a woman who danced for any man with enough cash, yet he had the audacity to lie through his teeth and use this whole charade to try and break me.

But a Don's word is his bond. I couldn't let my father become an oath-breaker for my sake.

On my wedding day, Aidan had his Rolls-Royce parked squarely in front of our villa gate.

He smiled at me. "Seraphina, have you thought it through? It's not too late."

He expected me to surrender. Instead, right in front of him, I climbed into that soldato's beat-up Ford.

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1

"I would rather declare war on the Callahans than let you marry that man!" my father seethed.

I stood quietly before him. "Papa, this is my decision."

Everyone in the Chicago underworld knew me, Seraphina Moretti, as the Don's most prized possession, his Principessa.

I was supposed to be Aidan Callahan’s bride—we were childhood sweethearts, after all.

But just moments ago, Aidan had forced my father to promise me to a complete nobody, a soldato named Dante Falcone.

Only a month ago, Aidan had been in my bed, his fingers gently tracing the curve of my cheek.

"Seraphina, the moment I take over the Callahan family, we're getting married."

"I'll never touch another woman, Seraphina. Not as long as I live."

Trembling with rage, I drove straight to the Callahan's private club to find out what the hell was going on.

In the lavish private room, Aidan was lounging in the center of a sofa, a woman nestled in his arms.

The woman, poured into a tight minidress, playfully dangled a cherry over his lips.

When he saw me barge in, Aidan didn't push her away. Instead, he made a point of pulling her closer.

"Seraphina, perfect timing."

He looked at me with a mocking glint in his eyes. "Let me introduce you. This is Isabelle, a woman I helped out of a bad situation."

Isabelle rose from his lap with a flirtatious laugh and gave me a saccharine-sweet curtsy.

"Hello, Principessa. I'm Isabelle. I'll be sure to take very good care of our Aidan from now on."

My eyes narrowed, fixed on Aidan. "So, for this stripper, you're forcing me to marry a soldato?"

Aidan's expression hardened. "Watch your mouth. Isabelle is a good girl."

"Good girl?"

I sneered, "Aidan, do you take me for a fool?"

"She comes from a place like that, and you're telling me she's innocent?"

"Go ask her how many men she's been with."

Aidan stood up, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"She's innocent because I say she is."

He walked up to me, his voice a low growl.

"I know you're here about the arrangement."

"I don't actually want you to marry some nobody. This is just to get your attention. You're too proud to accept Isabelle, but if you can just look the other way, I'll go tell your father the arrangement is off."

"She won't take your place as Mrs. Callahan. She just wants to stay by my side."

I stared at him in disbelief. "Are you asking me to accept your mistress?"

I had once asked him, "If another woman tries to get close to you, what will you do?"

He had held me tight and said, "My heart is all yours, Seraphina. There's no room for anyone else."

And now?

Not only had he made room for someone else, he expected me to welcome her with open arms.

I scoffed. "I am the Principessa of the Moretti family. You want me to share a husband with a prostitute?"

At my words, impatience flashed in his eyes.

"Isabelle is not a prostitute! How many times do I have to tell you?"

"She's my woman now. As for you, if you don't agree, you'll be that soldato's wife."

"You'll become the laughingstock of the entire Chicago underworld. Seems to me you have no choice but to accept my terms."

He smiled, a cold, sharp thing that chilled me to the bone.

Isabelle chimed in with her cloying voice, "Principessa, I think it's a wonderful arrangement."

"I can help you take care of Aidan, so you won't have to wear yourself out."

"Besides, I grew up in places like that. I know how to please a man."

"If you want, I can even teach you a few things, to make Aidan like you even more."

As she spoke, she pointedly linked her arm with Aidan's, a clear challenge.

Watching them, I took a deep breath and pulled the engagement ring from my finger.

Aidan had given it to me on my eighteenth birthday—a ring he'd chosen himself.

He had personally engraved our initials on the inside, making it the only one of its kind.

When he’d placed it on my finger, he had vowed, "Seraphina, I will always love you. I will never betray you."

But now, his promise was worthless.

I threw the ring on the coffee table. "Take it back."