The Jefe's Boy

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 ~ Alejandro ~

A decade ago I was sent home in disgrace. I had spent the last ten years doing every dirty job my mafia family ordered me to do. My chance to escape came when my grandfather offered me a deal. He would give me control of Brooklyn, but only if I married a man of his choosing, a man who was one breath away from being a social media nightmare. A mafia boss and a man that had been on the news more than the local weather report? I was pretty sure I was being set-up, but I refused to let this chance go by. I'd rein in my new husband whether he liked it or not.

~ Delancy ~

I had a secret, one that could cost people's lives if it ever got out. Being the mischievous spoiled grandson of a very rich man put me in the limelight and I used that to keep my secret...until my grandfather decided my highly publicized antics had to stop. I totally hated his plan, but what choice did I have? I either married the man he had chosen for me, someone I had never met, or he disinherited me. How was this supposed to work?

Part of the Marriage Mayhem world.

~ Alejandro ~

"Don Roberto wants to see you."

Damn.

That was just what I needed to add to an otherwise shitty day. I hadn't woken up on the wrong side of the bed because I hadn't been to bed yet. I had been assigned guard duty for the last twenty-four hours because I had gotten into an argument with an asshole.

I should have just walked away.

My eyes were bloodshot and crusty from lack of sleep.

This was what came from pissing off the man in charge. I was given no slack even if he was my grandfather. If anything, our family connection only added to my misery.

My grandfather hated me. It had been that way for at least the last decade. Sure, he had not been thrilled that I was born considering my father had slept with my mother without marrying her. He couldn't. He had been married to someone else at the time.

They had still made me.

It wasn't until I attended the university in the United States that my grandfather learned I was also gay, and then he had made no bones about the fact that he loathed my very existence.

I wasn't a fan of him either.

If it wasn't for the fact that he would kill me if I decided to leave the family business, I would have left long ago. Some days, I wondered if death wasn't the better option.

My feet felt as if they were made of lead as I made my way to my grandfather's study. I had only been in there a few times during my lifetime, but it was still the last place I wanted to go.

When I reached the large double oak doors, I nodded to the two guards manning each side of the doorway. "Don Roberto called for me."

One of the guards knocked on the door and then opened it, walking inside. I heard him announce my arrival, but I didn't hear the reply.

One of the things that had always disturbed me about my grandfather was the fact that he only spoke in low tones. He never yelled. Some would think that was a good thing, but it wasn't. The quieter he was, the more pissed off he was.

I couldn't hear his reply beyond a murmur, so I didn't think he was happy right now. That didn't bode well for me.

When the guard came back to the door and gestured for me to enter the study, I squared my shoulders and stepped inside. I gave a quick bow of respect—I wasn't stupid—to my grandfather before I stated, "You wanted to see me, sir?"

It wasn't a question even if I had phrased it that way.

"Have a seat, Alejandro."

Oh, damn.

I guess this wasn't going to be a quick visit.

I walked over to one of the two chairs in front of my grandfather's massive wooden desk and sat down. I carefully folded my hands in my lap, keeping them well away from the gun I had holstered inside my suit jacket.

And then I waited to find out why I was here.

"I'm sending you to the United States."

My mouth started to drop open before I could stop it. "The United States, sir?" When I was ordered home over a decade ago, I had been told I could never leave Colombia again. I would certainly never see the United States again.

What changed?

"May I ask why?"

"You are getting married," my grandfather stated simply as if he didn't understand that he had just ripped the rug out from underneath my feet, but the smirk on his face said differently. He knew exactly what he was saying.

"Married?"

"Yes." My grandfather took a deep puff off of his cigar. "An old friend of mine called the other day and reminded me of a promise we made to each other during the war, a promise I cannot break."

I wasn't sure what that had to do with me.

"We promised if we made it through the war alive, we would marry off our children together. Since your father is already married, that falls on you."

"What about Dante?"

I knew I had made a mistake mentioning my half-brother when my grandfather's eyes narrowed. Dante was the legitimate heir. He was the golden boy, the apple of my grandfather's hate filled eyes. He could do no wrong even if the guy was a pig.

"Dante isn't an abomination like you."

Still didn't understand what this all had to do with me.

"This is your lucky day, Alejandro. You will be marrying Delancy's grandson, who is also as perverted as you are."

And now it made sense.

He held up his hand. A file was placed in it by the guard from before. He held it out to me. "You will need this."

As much as I didn't want to take the file, I knew I had no choice. I flipped it open as soon as I had it in my hands and started reading over the papers inside.

I had to read over the first few paragraphs three times before the words truly made sense. Stunned, I glanced at my grandfather. "You are putting me in charge of Brooklyn?"

My grandfather sighed. "Brooklyn hasn't been producing like it should be over the last few years. Juan Martinez wishes to retire. If you marry Delancy Matisse, you can have Brooklyn."

There had to be a catch.

"As long as you stay married to Delancy and send in your quarterly donations, you will stay in charge of Brooklyn. Fail to marry Delancy or get a divorce, or fail to send your donations in full, and you will be called back to face the consequences."

In other words, my death.

And why were we calling it a "donation"? We both knew what it was. Every quarter I would be required to send a set amount of money back to Colombia. Hiding it as a donation to a charitable foundation set up by the family was just their way of laundering the money so the authorities didn't learn of it.

"I want complete autonomy." I couldn't believe I was saying that, but if my grandfather wanted me to agree to this shit show, he would give it to me. I refused to have him breathing down my neck when it came to every decision I made.

Surprisingly, my grandfather replied, "Done, but you leave in an hour. Your bags are already packed, and the jet is waiting for you on the tarmac. The wedding is set for two weeks from now."

"I'm leaving now?"

"You have a meeting with our lawyer in New York City tomorrow morning to sign a prenup, get a report on your fiancé, and get the details on the wedding ceremony. If you don't leave in an hour, you won't make it."

"Does Martinez know I'm coming?"

"He knows."

Was he going to try and kill me when I arrived?

That seemed like the important question, but not one I was going to ask. My grandfather would probably kill me where I sat if I did.

"Martinez will pick you up at the airport and take you to your meeting. After that, he will show you the ropes before he comes home. He will only be staying until the day after your wedding, so you had better learn all you can from him while you can."

"When will I meet my fiancé?" It would be nice to know the man I was going to marry.

"When you marry him."

Only by grinding my teeth together did I keep my jaw from dropping. "I don't get to meet my fiancé until I marry him?"

One of my grandfather's bushy gray eyebrows went up. "Do you need to meet him before then? This is an arranged marriage. It doesn't matter what you think of each other as long as you get married." There was a slight curl to his upper lip as he looked me over. "Besides, I didn't think your kind was all that discerning over who they sleep with."

What this guy knew about gay men wouldn't even fill a thimble.