A Wife For Nico Vescari

~CAKE~ The man taps his foot, avoiding my eyes.  The annoying sound matches the frantic beating of my heart.    He's staring at a computer screen that probably has my life story written in red.    "I'm sorry, Miss Coogan, but I can't help you."   I lean forward, my hands flat on his desk.  I wore the stupid blazer for this meeting, the least he can do is fucking try.    "Look, Mr. Henderson, I'm not asking for a handout. It's a loan I'll pay back."    "Con cosa?" {With what?}   "Excuse me?"    "I'm looking at your credit score now and it's a tragedy, Miss Coogan. Your mother's is even worse. You two are up to your necks in debts from loan agencies. You have nothing to your name."    He sighs, finally looking at me with a pity that makes me want to launch myself over the desk and punch the glasses right off his face.    "Frankly, no bank in the whole of Rome will give you a penny. I'm sorry but there's nothing I can do for you."    I push to my feet, anger rolling off me in waves. I grab my bag, the strap digging into my shoulder, as I walk out of the glass-walled office without a word.   The heat of the afternoon slaps me in the face along with my failure.  This is the fifth office today. The fifth "no" thrown in my face while the clock in my head ticks closer and closer to the deadline Nico Vescari set.    I'm drowning, and for the first time in my life, my fists can't help me.    At the time, my mother thought it was the right thing to do, borrowing those huge sums in our names to pay off Dad's hospital bills. She didn't even tell me until recently, when the loan offices started calling for their money.    Now we're fucked.    I rub my neck and turn down the street.    By the time I get back home, my legs are heavy, and my head is spinning.   "Mom?"   "In here."    I find her in her bedroom, under three layers of blankets, even though it's hot. Her face is frighteningly gray and her breathing is shallow.   "What's wrong?"    "I'm running a fever," she whispers, her ice-blue eyes like one of mine squinting tiredly.    I sit on the edge of the bed and press a hand to her forehead. She's burning up.  "Why didn't you call me? Did you get medicine?"   "The pharmacy said I had to clear my old debt first, but I didn't have enough."    My stomach twists.    "I'll go get it, okay?"    She nods weakly, and I dash out of the apartment, taking half of my savings with me.   After returning and giving her the drugs, I end up at Eliana's apartment an hour later.    It's a penthouse that smells like vanilla, a completely different universe from the peeling wallpaper of my apartment.   Javier lets me in with a silent nod, his dark eyes lingering on the tight set of my shoulders.    "Cake! Thank God," Eliana says, rushing over. She's wearing silk pajamas and a face mask. "I've been so worried about you. Have you gotten the money?"    "El, I need... I need to ask you something." My voice cracks. I fucking hate this. I hate being a beggar.   She pulls me onto the sofa, holding my hands. "What? Did that jerk threaten you again?"    "No...I was wondering..." The words hang in my throat and a part of me shrivels as I force them out. "If you can help me, or maybe your father. I'll pay you back, I promise."    "Oh, Cake." Her shoulder falls. "I'm sorry. I can't. My father has cut me off completely. He hates the idea of me working and wants me back home," she whispers. " So he's trying to force my hand. Now, I'm broke as fuck. We've been living off of Javier since this month."    The air leaves my lungs. "Oh," is all I can manage.    From the corner of the room, Javier speaks, "Have you gotten half at least?    I shake my head dejectedly.   Javier's jaw tightens. He looks away, and for the first time, I see a flicker of true frustration on his stoic face.    "I have a quarter of that," Javier says softly. "I can give y-"     "It's okay," I say, standing up. Shame and frustration burning holes in my chest.    "I can't take your life savings, Javier. You both need it more."    Eliana looks at me, her face pale. "What will you do then? Cake... Nico Vescari is a dangerous man. You can't marry him."    "I don't fucking plan to," I snap, though my words lacks its usual bite. "I'll find another way. I'll take every fight I can find. I'll-I'll figure it out."   But as I walk toward the door, I can't shake the sinking feeling that my life is falling apart.      I feel the strange sensation of being watched as I step out of the pharmacy the next day. Having used more of my meager savings to buy extra meds, I'm not in the mood for fucking creeps.    I duck into an alleyway, hiding behind the shadows, my body fired up for a fight.    As soon as I hear footsteps round the corner, I spring on the man. Sending my fist aimed at his throat but he's faster than I expect, jumping back before my blow can land.    "Easy, tiger."  He's a big guy, in a hoodie a little too tight on the shoulders and a condescending voice.    "What do you want?" I hiss, throwing a kick at his legs.    He dodges with a laugh. "I'm not here to play little girl. I'm keeping an eye on my Boss's interests. And I've been given express instructions to shoot your mother once the week is up."    That stops me in my tracks. My blood turned to ice. "Tell your boss I'll get his fucking money."    "He also told me to remind his proposal is better than watching your mother die."    He glances at me with clear disgust, turns and walks away, leaving me shaking in the damp shadows of the alley.   I stay there for a long time, staring at my hands. They're bruised from last night's fight that hadn't even earned  me more than peanuts.    I take a deep breath, blinking away the burning in my eyes.    ***   A week later.   The meeting place is a large office complex in the central part of the city.  I follow the same man through tall oak doors, my face a mask of cold fury. My fists are clenched so tight my nails are drawing blood from my palms.    The double doors open to a lavish office.  Nico is sitting behind a massive desk, framed by the late afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him.  He looks fucking gorgeous as he ruins my life. That's the worst part.    With his crisp white shirt, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms, and the way his dark eyes track my movement like a hunter tracks prey.    It creates a spark of unwanted electricity that makes me want to scream or bury my fists in his face.    "What a pleasant surprise," he says, his voice a low, smooth purr.   "Save it," I bite out, stopping in front of his desk.    He leans back, interlacing his fingers, his face a mask of calm. There's no surprise in seeing me.  His gaze trails down to my empty hands and back up at my face and he gives me the most infuriating shit-eating grin I've ever seen.    "I assume your search for alternative funding didn't go as planned?"   "You know it didn't," I spit. "I assume your fucking dog here has been keeping you updated." I point to the guy who has been my constant shadow these past few days. Waiting for when he can storm our apartment and kill my mother.    I can't let her die because I'm too fucking proud to accept his deal. So here I fucking am.    "Congratulations, you fucking won."    Nico stands slowly, his movements elegant and controlled, like the stretching of a panther.  He walks around the desk, stopping just a foot away from me.    "I didn't win," he says softly, his gaze dropping to my mouth for a fraction of a second. "I provided an opportunity where I could've simply killed you for stealing. Be grateful."    He reaches onto the desk and picks up a thick stack of papers. He opens it to the final page and sets it down.   "Sign here," he says, pointing to a dotted line right beside his signature.    The motherfucker has already signed. Like he fucking knew.    I stare at the paper, trembling with mixed feelings, knowing this is a grave mistake.    I look up at him, my eyes burning with hatred so pure I almost punch him.    "What do you hope to get out of this?"   "Nothing you should concern yourself with."    "You're going to regret this," I grit out. "I'm going to make every single day of this year a living hell for you."   Nico smirks. It's a dark, wicked thing that makes my stomach flip. "I bet."   I square my shoulders, grab the pen from the desk and sign my initials with an angry flourish.    C. C.    A hole opens in my chest and helpless fury seeps out. I throw the fucking pen and go to step back when Nico reaches out, and grips my neck pulling me toward him.    My breath hitches as I'm slammed against his hard chest. Our lips are so close I can feel the heat of his breath.   "Stop threatening me," he rumbles, his dark eyes boring into mine.   I laugh, a dry, bitter sound that scrapes my throat. "Or what?"    I lift my chin, my rage tipping over into something cold and lethal.    "I'm going to tear your world apart from the inside out, and when I'm done, you'll wish you'd killed me instead."   He doesn't pull away. If anything, his grip tightens, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, feral challenge. "I look forward to seeing you try."   I knock his hand away, breaking his hold and turn, walking out with my heart beating like a drum of war.   Don't think about it, Cake.  Don't think about it.    But I can't stop it.    I've just agreed to marry a mafia Don. Fuck my life.