Raphael's POV
I watched the color drain from my new wife's face, finding myself once again amused by her raw reactions. Most people could barely meet my eyes, let alone challenge me the way she did. Yet here she sat, in all her hungover glory, looking at me like I was the one who had proposed in a drunken haze.
*Yesterday Afternoon*
"Mr. Marino," Dr. Berkeley, had shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his hands shaking slightly as he held up my file. "The test results are… concerning."
I remember staring out my office window, forty floors above the city I controlled, feeling for the first time like something was slipping through my fingers. "How bad?"
"The condition is progressing faster than we anticipated. If you're planning on having children…" he cleared his throat, "you have maybe a year, likely less, before it becomes nearly impossible."
I had dismissed him with a nod, my mind already racing through potential solutions. That's when my father's call came through.
"Raphael!" His voice boomed through the intercom. "Have you considered what we discussed?"
I sighed heavily, "Father…"
"The Marino line must continue! Your cousin Vincent, is already positioning his son as a potential successor. We need an heir, Raphael. A true heir."
I cut the connection, something I'd never dared do in person, I might've sworn off marriage, but the old man had a point. The empire needed a future, and I was running out of time to provide one.
*Last Night*
I hadn't planned on visiting The Velvet. New clubs, even the ones I owned, weren't usually worth my personal attention. But something had drawn me there - the need to forget about my current problem. A problem that couldn't be solved with money or force.
The usual reaction swept through the crowd as I entered: averted eyes, nervous shuffling, and people suddenly remembering they needed to be elsewhere. Even in a crowd of strangers, fear recognized power.
Then she appeared.
Stumbling slightly in her graduation gown, mascara smeared like war paint, she headed straight for my table. My security tensed, but I waved them off. There was something captivating about her complete lack of fear.
"Well, hello there, handsome," she'd slurred, attempting what I assumed was meant to be a seductive lean against the bar. "You're in my seat."
Then, to my complete amazement, she'd reached out and patted my cheek. "Smooth. Very smooth. Do you moisturize?"
When was the last time anyone had dared to touch me so casually? To grab my tie worth more than their yearly salary? To look me in the eye without a trace of the fear I was accustomed to seeing?
"I come from a long line of very fertile women," she'd announced proudly. "My grandmother? Five kids. My mom? Five kids."
My interest had sharpened instantly.
"I'll run a background check boss," Marco had discreetly whispered behind me.
"... I bet Emily can't even keep a cactus alive," she'd continued, completely unaware of how her drunken rambling had just solved all my problems. "But me? I am a baby-making machine…"
*Present*
"Earth to mob boss!" Susan's voice snapped me back to the present. She was waving her hand in front of my face, still showing none of the fear she should have felt. "Are we just going to sit here in awkward silence while our eggs get cold?"
Her mother gasped at her tone, but I found myself smiling. Yes, this one was perfect - exactly what the Marino family needed. Whether she knew it or not.
Susan's POV
Breakfast was filled with stiffening silence, broken only by my mother's over-enthusiastic compliments about everything from the china to the curtains. Dad kept staring at his plate like it might explode if he looked anywhere else.
When they finally stood to leave, I practically jumped from my chair. "I'm coming with you!"
"Susan will be staying," Raphael said smoothly, his hand appearing on my shoulder.
My parents exchanged a look that made my stomach drop. "Of course," Mom said, her smile too bright. "You two have… so much to discuss."
"Mom?" My voice cracked. "Dad?"
Dad couldn't even meet my eyes. "Be good, sweetheart."
And just like that, they abandoned me to my hungover fate.
The moment the elevator doors closed behind them, I whirled on Raphael. "Okay, let's get something straight. I can't do this."
"Can't do what, Cara?" he looked amused, which only fueled my panic.
"This!" I gestured wildly at everything - the penthouse, his expensive suit, the armed guards pretending to be furniture. "I had plans! Real plans! Like getting a job that doesn't involve breaking kneecaps, or living somewhere that doesn't need bulletproof windows!"
"No one's breaking kneecaps," he said reasonably. "We're more sophisticated than that."
"Not helping!" I started pacing. "Look, I only kept my cool during breakfast because I was terrified my parents would end up sleeping with the fishes…"
He chuckled. "We don't actually…"
"If you say 'we don't actually do that' one more time, I swear to God…" I ran my hands through my hair. "The point is, I want a divorce. Now."
His expression darkened. "That won't be possible."
"Oh, it's very possible. Watch me." I removed the ring and placed it on the table, then I grabbed my purse. "I'm leaving."
"Susan." Just my name, but it carried enough weight to make the guards shift nervously. But not me, I'm leaving here one way or the other.
"Don't 'Susan' me! I barely know you! For all I know, you could be planning to sell me to the highest bidder, or use me for some twisted game!"
"You're being dramatic…"
"I'M being dramatic? I woke up married to the Godfather!"
"Actually, that's a different family…"
I grabbed the first thing my hand found - a crystal vase that probably cost more than my student loan debts. "Stay back! I'm armed and hungover!"
"Cara, put down the vase."
"Make me, Don Corleone!"
What happened next was a blur. He stepped forward, I swung, and there was a surprisingly satisfying THUNK as the crystal met skull. Raphael's eyes went wide with shock before he crumpled to the floor like a very expensive sack of potatoes.
"Oh my God." I started at his unconscious form. "Oh my God, I just killed a mob boss. This is bad. This is so bad." I poked him with my foot. He groaned. "Okay, not dead. Thank God!"
The guards were frozen, clearly torn between their duty to protect their boss and their fear of touching his new wife.
I took advantage of their hesitation, grabbed my graduation gown - because if I was going on the run, I was taking proof I actually graduated - and I fled.