Mafia's Surrogate Bride Chapter 20

Damian's POV

The expensive Turkish cigarette burned slowly between my fingers as I stood by the floor-to-ceiling windows, watching the lights of Florence twinkle in the distance. The Montrosso estate's guest room had provided the perfect sanctuary for what had just transpired, far enough from the gala's festivities that no one would think to look for us here.

Behind me, Aria lay the silk sheets, her breathing finally steady and deep. The drug had run its course, leaving her exhausted and unconscious.

I took another drag from my cigarette, letting the nicotine calm the residual tension in my body. The evening had not gone according to plan—it never did when Adriana Montrosso was involved. But perhaps some good could come from this chaos after all.

She's surprisingly compatible, I mused, studying Aria's sleeping form through the reflection in the window. Despite her humble origins, despite the vast gulf between our worlds, there was something about her that complemented me in ways I hadn't expected. At least in bed, she responded to my dominance with a surrender that felt genuine rather than calculated.

Most women in my circle were performers, playing roles they thought would appeal to me. They submitted because they'd been taught it was what powerful men wanted, not because something in their nature craved that surrender. But Aria... there had been nothing artificial about her responses tonight. No practiced moans or strategic positioning. Just raw, desperate need that had matched my own.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Here was a woman with no breeding, no connections, no advantages beyond her beauty—and yet she understood something fundamental about herself that eluded most of the sophisticated women who threw themselves at me.

But attraction alone wasn't enough to build a life on. I'd learned that lesson from watching my father destroy my mother with his infidelities. Physical compatibility was fleeting; power dynamics were what endured.

I stubbed out the cigarette in a crystal ashtray and moved to pour myself a glass of whiskey from the room's well-stocked bar. The aged Scotch burned pleasantly as I considered the conversation I'd had with my grandfather just two days ago.

"The Torretti trusts won't wait forever, Damian," Nonno had said, his weathered hands folded over his walking stick as we'd sat in his private study. "The lawyers are getting nervous about the succession requirements. You need an heir, and you need one soon."

"I'm well aware of the timeline," I'd replied, but he'd fixed me with those sharp eyes that missed nothing.

"Are you? Because from where I sit, it looks like you're avoiding your responsibilities to the family. The other families are starting to talk. They see a man approaching thirty with no wife, no children, no clear path to succession. That kind of weakness invites challenges."

He'd been right, of course. In our world, a man who couldn't secure his legacy was seen as vulnerable. And vulnerable men didn't stay in power long.

But marriage... the thought still made my jaw clench with distaste. I'd watched my father parade his pregnant mistress through Florence society while my mother wasted away from cancer and heartbreak. I'd seen how marriage could become a weapon, how love could be twisted into control.

No. Marriage was not the answer.

But tonight had clarified something else for me. Adriana's clumsy attempt to drug me, to force intimacy between us. She wasn't content to wait for a formal engagement announcement. She was actively scheming to trap me, to use pregnancy as leverage to force my hand.

The realization was both infuriating and illuminating. If Adriana was willing to resort to such desperate measures, it meant the pressure from both our families was greater than I'd realized. They wouldn't wait much longer for me to "see reason" and marry her. Soon, they'd start applying more direct pressure.

But two could play at that game.

I walked back to the window, cradling the whiskey glass as I considered my options. If I needed an heir to secure my position, there were other ways to obtain one. Ways that didn't involve binding myself to a calculating woman who saw me as nothing more than a stepping stone to power.

The sharp buzz of my phone interrupted my thoughts. I glanced at the screen. Roberto Cavalieri. Of course he would call now, when I least wanted to hear his voice.

I stepped out onto the room's private balcony, sliding the glass door closed behind me to ensure Aria wouldn't be disturbed by what was likely to become an unpleasant conversation.

"Father," I answered, my voice deliberately neutral.

"Damian." His voice carried that familiar tone of barely controlled irritation. "I've been hearing interesting reports about tonight's gala."

"Have you?" I took another sip of whiskey, staring out at the city lights. "And what exactly have you heard?"

"That you embarrassed both our family and the Montrossos by refusing to dance with Adriana. That you disappeared for hours without explanation. That Antonio had to make excuses for your absence." His voice grew sharper with each accusation. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I'm a grown man who doesn't need to perform like a trained seal for the entertainment of Florence's elite." I kept my tone level, but I could feel the familiar anger building in my chest.

"You were being disrespectful to a young woman who has done nothing but show you kindness and patience. Adriana Montrosso is everything you should want in a wife—beautiful, well-bred, connected to one of our most important allies."

"Everything you want in a daughter-in-law, you mean. Have you forgotten what happened the last time this family forced a marriage for political convenience?"

"Your mother's situation was... unfortunate. But that has nothing to do with—"

"Nothing to do with it?" I laughed. "You destroyed her, Father. You married her for her family's connections, got her pregnant to secure your position, and then discarded her the moment you found someone younger and more exciting."

"I provided for your mother. She wanted for nothing—"

"Except her husband's loyalty. Except respect. Except the basic dignity of not having to watch her replacement parade around Florence while she was dying of cancer."

"That's enough. I won't be lectured about my marriage by someone who refuses to secure his own legacy. You think you can avoid your responsibilities forever? You think the other families will respect a man who can't even take a wife?"

"I don't need a wife to secure my legacy."

"The hell you don't. The Torretti trusts require legitimate heirs, Damian. Legitimate. That means marriage, whether you like it or not."

"The trusts require heirs. They don't specify how those heirs are obtained."

Another long silence. When Roberto spoke again, his voice carried a warning. "Don't even think about whatever you're considering. Bastard children won't satisfy the legal requirements, and they certainly won't satisfy the other families. You need a wife, and Adriana Montrosso is the perfect choice."

"Perfect for you, maybe. But I'm not you, Father." I drained the rest of my whiskey in one burning gulp. "I won't make the same mistakes you did."

I ended the call before he could respond, immediately turning off the phone to prevent him from calling back.

I stood on the balcony for several more minutes, letting the night air cool my anger while I processed what had just happened.

His insistence that bastard children wouldn't be acceptable showed how little he understood the modern legal landscape. With the right contracts, the right documentation, a child born through surrogacy could be just as legitimate as one born within marriage. More legitimate, in fact, since there would be no question about custody or parental rights.

Surrogacy.The solution was elegant in its simplicity.

But finding the right woman would be crucial. She couldn't be someone from our circle—too many connections, too many potential complications. She couldn't be too sophisticated or educated—that would lead to questions, demands, attempts to leverage the situation for more than the agreed-upon compensation.

No, I needed someone simple. Someone without family connections who might interfere. Someone beautiful enough that my child would inherit attractive features, but not clever enough to cause problems. Someone who needed money badly enough to agree to the arrangement, but who wouldn't try to use the pregnancy to trap me into something more permanent.

Someone like...

I turned from the window, my gaze falling on the woman sprawled naked across my bed.

Aria Rossi.