Some days, I want to find out. I want to stare him in the eye when he puts that cold barrel to my forehead and dare him to pull the trigger.
With too much force, I stand, my chair screeching backwards. “I’m going to go take a look for myself. Downstairs,” I clarify to a bewildered Elena. “To see if myhusbandis here.”
Storming from the room, I make my way down the stairs to the main hallway. Papa’s office is at the far end, overlooking the back garden. On silent footsteps, I march toward his door, only to have it open while I’m several feet away. My breath hitches and my heart stops. I don’t know who will emerge from his office. At the last minute, I duck into the living room.
Papa’s office door closes with a soft click. Peeking around the corner to get a glimpse of who exited. My entire body shivers with a chill, but I’m not sure why until I see her face.
It’s Ginevra. My seventeen-year-old cousin. Her blond hair’s disheveled, tears stain her face, and she’s walking with her gaze angled down. What is my teenage cousin doing in Papa’s office? Presumably alone. What has he done to her?
Nothing involving my father is above board or innocent. There’s a reason she was in his office and it can’t be anything good.
I’m torn between confronting her right now or keeping quiet and doing that when I don’t look like a meat tenderizer met with my face. I don’t want to scare her. Much less have to explain to her why I look like this.
My vanity wins out and I let Ginevra go. For now. But my mind races with possible explanations. Perhaps her father decided to let our don punish her for something. Not that I saw a mark on her skin. My instincts tell me the answer to her being here is much more sinister.
My father’s an evil man, surely I’m not the only family member he torments for the fun of it.
I spend the rest of the afternoon lingering downstairs, avoiding both of my parents as they come and go, but not once do I spot a single Irishman.
Ismooth down my satin dress, my palms clammy. As self-conscious as I am to be out in public with my healing bruises—which are expertly hidden thanks to the best concealer in the world—Elena is a nervous wreck. She keeps dropping her fork and glancing over her shoulder like the boogieman is out to get her. After what she’s been through, both the kidnapping and witnessing a murder, I can understand.
Tonight we’re seated in a private dining room atBarbetta, New York City’s oldest Italian restaurant. Its elegant, old-world atmosphere would be comforting, except for Papa’s calculatingglances, and the fact that he only takes the family out for a nice dinner when he’s ready to announce one of his schemes.
He’s about to make a move, and we’re all his unwilling pawns. Whose life is he going to shatter this time around?
I’m seated with my sister and parents, my three cousins, and my aunt and uncle. Much to Papa and Uncle Davide’s disappointment, their only surviving children are all girls. Which means we’re commodities to be traded and used for their advantage.
Papa addresses his brother, “Our alliance with the Irish is sealed. They need this arrangement as much, if not more, than we do. They’ll keep their word, even with how much Ravenna fucked up.”
My head snaps up, but I stop myself from glaring at Papa. He’s right. I messed up. One massive lie destroyed my marriage, my chance at freedom, and my future. I royally screwed myself over. But none of that matters since the peace treaty will stand. In that regard, I did my duty.
Uncle Davide grunts in acknowledgment. “What are we doing about the Russians?”
A devious grin touches my father’s lips, making my stomach sink. “I’ve been in negotiations with the Kozlov Bratva for three months now. They’re ready to seal the deal.” His gaze lands on Elena. “By marrying one of theirs to my daughter. This time, to the correct daughter.”
Elena visibly shrinks in her chair, her eyes wide with horror. My gut twists. The Irish are known to be violent and brash, but they’re nothing compared to the depraved Russians. They’re animals. They’ll eat my sweet sister alive, then pick their teeth with her bones.
“You can’t do this,” I state before my sense of self-preservation has a chance to interfere.
Silence descends on the table.
Papa’s lip curls. “What did you just say to me?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat, square my shoulders, and repeat myself. “You can’t do this. Not to Elena.”
“I see. Well, sinceyou’rethe don of the Pontrelli family then that must be true.” His glare bores into me, but I don’t flinch. It’s too late to back down now. I’ll stand up to him now and take my punishment later.
I glance at Mama. “Please, don’t let him give Elena to the Russians.”
She shakes her head, silently urging me to shut my mouth. Everyone else at the table remains quiet, gazes downcast. I’ll get no help from any of them. No one dares to stand up to the big bully that is my father and their don. They never have and they never will.
Realizing I’m all alone, I grind my teeth, giving in to the inevitable. Nothing I do or say will stop this from happening.
Papa continues eating, satisfied with his win. “The wedding will take place in two months’ time. Buy a dress. The Kozlov’s are arranging the rest of the details. They want to make sure nothing goes wrong.” His sharp gaze cuts to me. “I’ll make sure this time it won’t.”
The rest of dinner goes by in quiet conversation between Mama and my aunt, and Papa and my uncle. Elena and Ginevra both silently keep to themselves, while I manage to make small talk with my other two cousins, Sophia and Arianna, who are both close to my age.
Once Papa has married off his last daughter, he’ll no doubt turn his attention to my cousins. Three more girls to be thrown at our enemies to form alliances, or given as gifts to those he wants to reward.
