Page 45 of Forged

A nervous chuckle leaves Lars. “Her name is Neomi…and as of approximately one a.m. last night, she’s my wife.”

Silence stretches.

The man’s voice fills the line with amusement: “Yeah, okay.”

Lars’ voice takes on a deep tone. “Enzo, I’m serious.”

I pull my phone from my purse and my fingers fly, typing Enzo’s name with Lars’ into a search. Enzo’s last name is Marchetti—they must be related. Then I begin to scroll. The results are a list of insane news articles. Gunfights, a stolen bride, a surprising bit of charity work. It’s as if I’m reading a rap sheet.

Enzo’s voice breaks through my focus, “Holy shit. What the fuck, Lars, are you sure about this?”

“Don’t, Enzo. Yes, I was entirely too drunk, but I think in some fucked-up way, I wanted it. I want her.”

My heart flips dangerously in my chest before I hear a woman’s voice on Enzo’s side of the call. “Fuck, I have to go, Zara needs me. We will talk about this as soon as you get back.”

“Understood.”

“Love you, brother. Just keep your focus and make sure Neomi has protection. If Falco gets whiff of this, you know what could happen.”

“I will. Tell Zara I said hello.”

I hear the woman shout a hello in the background. Enzo says, “You’ll have to be the one to tell her the happy news, Lars.”

The woman’s voice is louder: “What news?”

Lars’ voice turns soft. “Nothing crazy, I’ll catch you up later.”

“Okay, love you, Lars,” the woman says.

“I love you guys. I gotta go.”

Enzo says goodbye, and I’m sitting in my seat, running through all the information one simple phone call has fed me. I’m still staring at the door when Lars steps back into the cabin and his eyes find mine.

I decide to rip off the band-aid. “Lars, who was that?”

“How much did you hear?” he asks quietly.

“Enough,” I reply.

He sits beside me, leaning down with his elbows on his thighs. The fact that he won’t look me in the eye scares me.

“What is Falco?” I ask. “And why do I need protection?”

He exhales a long breath. “Fuck, I should have told you this from the start. Neomi, I know I told you I work in security, but the truth is, my family runs the Marchetti Syndicate,” he says. “We’re headquartered in Chicago, but we have an international reach. I didn’t exactly lie when I said we work in security. The part I left out is that some of the work is legal, but some of it isn’t.”

I shift in my seat, not responding.

“I'm the Underboss—second in command—to our Don, Enzo. That’s who was on the call. He’s technically my cousin, but we grew up together and I consider him more like a brother,” he continues. “I handle enforcement and strategy. I try to keep our enemies from deciding today’s the day they wage a war.”

I lean back slowly, letting the truth settle.

Mafia.

It should scare me more than it does.

“What does that make me?” I ask.

His hand covers mine. “It doesn’t have to make you anything. You’re my wife,” he says simply. “Mine to protect. You never haveto be involved in the business.” He smiles softly. “But my family will be very insistent on bringing you into the fold.”