“Do you honestly think you can, Imogen? Niall was driven. He had ambition. Purpose. He bled for this family and he would have done anything for it to thrive. He killed. He manipulated. He —“
“Is dead,” I boldly say and pa looks stricken. “Niall is dead because his ambition was too great. He’s dead because you and him believed an alliance with the then Fiore Famiglia would’ve proved to be successful. And had you listened to me maybe your precious heir Niall would still be here. But you couldn’t listen to a woman, could you? I had always thought better of you than that. But maybe it’s just The Donati Famiglia that respect their woman. After all, Carina leads alongside Constantine.”
He aggressively points his finger mere inches away from my face. And it feels like a loaded gun pointed at my head. I don’t falter. I stare him in the eye like any man would do. Challenging him. “You do not dare say her name in this house, do you understand me?!” The pure undulated fury in his voice rattles my bones. “And you will certainly not speak ill of your brother while he’s in the grave. Have you no fuckin’ respect?!”
“Why should I when you don’t even respect me?!”
He spins on his heel and punches a hole through my bedroom wall. I’ve known my pa to be a violent man but his violent nature was never exposed to me. And despite my brave exterior I can’t help but feel slightly shaken.
The vicious snap of the impact of his fist reverberates long after it’s done. And the awful thought creeps in the back of my head, did he imagine the wall to be me?
“You want to know why you will never lead this family, Imogen?” He flexes his hand. His knuckles battered and split open. It’s not the first time his hands have been ruined, and it won’t be the last. His eyes meet mine and I’m sucked into a void of disappointment and aggravation. It’s a tough pill to swallow. Especially when Pa has always looked at me with adoration and love in his eyes. “Because to lead you must sacrifice. You must put the family first before your own selfish desires. And look at you, Imogen, you can’t even put this family first to marry Sebastian tomorrow. You don’t have what it takes to lead. You never will.”
My heart splinters. Tears unbidden burn at the back of my eyes. I never imagined my pa to think so lowly of me. I could wallow in my sorrows. Lick my wounds. But the anger blazing through me is consuming.
“Until today I have never felt more inconsequential and insignificant to anyone. And yet you, my own pa, have made it crystal clear that all I am is a means to an end with this family.”
He remains silent. His mouth set in a firm line. That damn Irish pride. It won’t allow him to admit his wrongs. Even with his daughter he claims to love more than anything.
My lips curl in disgust. “My unhappiness means nothing to you. I see your love and loyalty to the family is greater than your love and loyalty to me.”
Pa’s face crumbles for only a second. A twinge of regret enters his eyes but in a blink it’s gone. In return is the face of the mob boss all must bow down and adhere to.
“I don’t expect you to understand?—“
I say harshly, “I understand just fine.”
He sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I love you, Imogen.” I scoff and he repeats it with more warmth. “I do. I love you. You’re my daughter. My only daughter. My now only child.Do you really think I would marry you off to some monster? Place you in the hands of a man I didn’t trust?”
“No,” I breathe. “But the fact you’re placing me in the hands of a man at all is what I don’t agree with.”
“Nothing I say will change your mind, will it?”
I raise a brow. “And nothing I say will change yours, will it?” He sighs once more. I nod my head bitterly. “Then I suppose we have reached an impasse.”
“If we did that would mean the marriage wouldn’t be happening,” he points out much to my dismay. “And I’m sorry, my sweet girl, but I will be walking you down that aisle tomorrow.”
In my mind I know nothing I could have said would’ve swayed him on the matter, but my heart had such high hopes that he would. And that poor organ has just taken a vicious blow.
Somehow it makes the decision for my escape that much easier yet harder at the same time.
Because while I have every right intention to make my own fate I’ll also be mourning a family I’ll never be able to return home to.
And that . . . that kills me.
So I find myself nodding resignedly with a sob lodged in my throat.
“You’re doing the right thing.”
My smile is strained at best, my voice chokes. “I know.”
CHAPTER 5
Rico
New torture method: endure a plane ride with Pietro Morelli for a strenuous six hours and thirty-five minutes.
All of our enemies will be singing like fucking canaries in no time.
