Marrying the Mafia's Daughter

LAKE

I grabbed my phone, facing down the desk, when it vibrated. I had only received a few calls from my personal phone, and I had a feeling it was my father.

Wallace Winston, a billionaire tycoon, was a good man for most people who didn’t know him personally. It was because of the generous donations he gave to the charity organizations he supported, but behind closed doors, he was a fucking son of a bitch.

The moment he and my mother divorced, he changed. So, I grew up with a backbone and eventually became callous. I built walls around my emotions, my feelings, and my heart.

My jaw clenched to see the caller ID. I answered it quickly. “Dad, what can I do for you on this fine night?”

“Save your sarcasm, Lake. I’m tired of waiting. It’s been five months since I gave you the offer. Are you interested in the position or not?”

I was only interested in the position because it was my birthright, and I worked hard to forge a new path and be better than him. Moreover, I wanted to show him that my mother raised me right.

“You wouldn’t have urged me if I wouldn’t fit for the position. Don’t you think you’re still young to give up the CEO chair?”

“You’re stalling. Let me guess. You can’t find a woman who can marry you as Lake without the Braddson and Winston attached? Isn’t that why you’re trying to delay the marriage?”

My mother and I were shocked during dinner when he asked me to find a bride so he could turn over the seat to me. Was I ready to throw away my freedom? Why not?

I’d been his protege for years, and I worked my ass off to satisfy his ego, and a little appreciation coming from him wouldn’t hurt, but it never happened, even a good job, a smile of pride, or a thumb up.

Wallace treated me like a dog, barked his order around, and I never received any compliments. He even treated his employees better than his own son, and everyone knew us could witness what he’d done to me.

“I’m not like you, Dad, and I will make sure I marry someone far better than your gold digger girlfriend. Do you think she will even look at you if you’re not Wallace Winston?”

“Watch your words, son.” I could feel the anger vibrating in his voice. He just called me son, and he never did that if he wasn’t serious or giving me a warning.

“You told me to focus on my studies. I stopped dating just the way you ordered. I worked hard as an intern. I climbed to the top without your influence, and now you want me to take the position only if I am married? It’s a distraction that I don’t need right now.”

“Take it or leave it. You have a month to show me the marriage certificate, or I will offer it to Ryden.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

I slumped my ass to the chair as the call ended. The night went suddenly cold, fog flooding the cities, masking the views of the skyscrapers behind the glass windows.

To be honest, I didn’t need the position nor his money, but it was my birthright whether he liked it or not, or he could change his will before he died for all I care, if not because my mother also wanted it for me.

Yeah, you could call me lucky. I was born with a golden spoon in my mouth, and I never went to bed with an empty stomach. Braddsons and Winstons were prominent public figures in the business industry and some of the richest people in the world.

I would be a hypocrite if I denied not being a nepo kid, a scion because, honestly, I was. I still had to start up somewhere to build my own name and identity, not just a son of Wallace Winston and Beatreigh Braddson.

Still, I also started my own company, Infinite Media, Inc., a startup computer networking product while Archer Solar Solutions was making a huge gross profit annually, and I was proud to say that I now had hundreds of employees. I was also a member of the boards of Hover Company and its subsidiaries and an investor in the Osmium Resource Group.

The door to my office swung open. Owen Boone walked in with a single folder in his hand. “This is the last candidate, and I already talked to her, but she turned it down.”

“Then what’s the point of showing me her file?”

“I thought it might interest you.” He dropped it on my desk dramatically.

I picked it up and opened the folder. Owen was one of Osmium’s employees and was good at what he did. He was the head of my security, though I didn’t get threats often. My safety came with family names I carried, so he had been stuck with me for nearly three years now.

“Augustine Maverick Bates II? Who named their daughter Augustine II? Are you sure she’s a real woman?” I snorted as I shut the file close and looked at Owen. “OB, are you shitting me right now? Because I’m not in a good mood. My father just called before you walked in, and he’s giving me a month to find a bride.”

“She’s born a woman. Check the information I found. It’s complete, and I say she’s the best candidate so far, and she’s not jumping into my offer.”

“What made you say that?”

“She’s twenty-three, a senior college with a student loan. She’s currently crashing on her boss’s couch.”

“You’re very thorough. I don’t need to hear that kind of shit. All I need is a bride, and it can’t wait.”

“Let me finish,” he continued. “Her ex kicked her out of the apartment she had shared for six months. By the way, he came tonight asking the money she owed her, and I paid him $2200.”

“Well, she has a colorful background. And still a student.”

“Here me out before you judge her.” He came and sat on the chair across from me.

“Why do you like her?” I studied him for a while, but his job qualifications include a good judge of character and body language.

“Her mother left her and now lives in Chicago. She’s raised by a grandmother, Augustine Bates.”

“Like I said, she has a colorful background.”

“Father unknown. She takes care of her grandmother and helps pay the mortgage and medical bills.”

“But she doesn’t live with her?”

“Nope.”

“What about the ex?”

“A piece of shit. Heath Davis. He brought his girlfriend with him the day he kicked her out, and tonight, he threatened to throw her things out. She’s still looking for an affordable apartment, but her co-worker at Bazz Village offered her a room.”

“Let me get it straight. You want me to marry a 23-year-old college student who works at the bar, takes care of her grandmother, and pays the mortgage, but without an apartment? Are you crazy?”

“You don’t see what I see, boss.”

“Enlighten me, OB.” I folded my arms over my chest.

“She doesn’t rely on anyone. She works hard to pay her bills. She declined my offer. She could have swallowed her pride and accepted a five hundred grand after the contract ended. She has integrity despite her worst situations. And she will pay me back, by the way.”

“Call her and increase the offer.”

“And one more thing.”

“What?”

“She thinks she’s marrying your father?”

“Shit.” I barked out, laughing. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I wanted to correct her, but she cut me off.” He shrugged, beaming.

“Process our license and get us an appointment. I wanna get married next week. And OB, increase the offer and make sure she can’t resist.”