“Uncle Vicente. I really do have things I need to see to; can you please elaborate. What about my future?”
“Your marriage.”
My mind blanks. I think my heart stops for a moment. I’m not sure, because I’m trying to get my lungs back online first.
“Marriage? I’m not even dating anyone.”
His face contorts in a way that suggests I’ve said something disgusting. I suppose to him, a woman choosing who she enters into a relationship with is a revolting idea. The man’s ideology is as ancient as his appearance.
“I’ll get straight to the point. Your brothers made a mess of things with this stupid war they started with the Russians.” He unbuttons his jacket as he sinks into an armchair, crossing his left leg over his right. “And you’re going to have to clean it up.”
“What are you talking about?” There’s a sharpness to my tone, but I don’t have the bandwidth to filter it. My uncle is making no sense.
“Come now. I know you don’t know everything about the family business, but you were aware of what they were up to.”
“No.” I take a step forward. “I have no idea about what any of them were up to. I lived here and they lived there.”
Staying in New York put enough distance between us, sometimes I almost forgot about them altogether. Marco’s decision to leave me behind while he took Michael and Tony to Chicago to ‘expand’ their business gave me a small taste of freedom. I’m sure if he knew I saw it that way, he’d have dragged me with them.
His frown deepens. “I’m not going to argue with you. It’s enough for you to understand they caused a problem. Now that their stupid war is over, we’ve had to make concessions.”
“War? Concessions? I don’t understand anything you’re talking about. Are you telling me the men who killed my brothers want something else from us? Their lives weren’t enough?”
“There needs to be peace. Sometimes the oldest traditions are still the best way forward.”
“And marriage is the old tradition.”
“Yes. Your marriage. You’re going to be married to one of the Volkov’s, uniting our families. It will settle things completelyand both of our families can go on with future plans to grow. It’s important not only to our family but for other families, as well.”
The underlying argument is this is over his head. He’s being told to fix what my brother’s broke.
And his grand solution is marriage?
I press my hand to my stomach; sure the luncheon we served after the funeral is going to make a reappearance.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not marrying anyone.”
His bushy, white eyebrow lifts. “You may have gotten away with your rebellious behavior with your brothers. The love they had for their little sister and all that, but you won’t be doing it with me.”
Love for their little sister? Bile rises up my throat.
“This man, he’s one of the one’s who killed my brothers, and you want me to marry him?” I can barely breathe.
“I want you to do what you’re told.” Spittle falls onto his lip.
He rises from the chair. His angry eyes lock on me as he makes his way to me.
“There are more things at stake here than you, Sienna.” He grabs hold of my arms. He’s not as weak as he looks. His nails dig into my skin through the sleeves of my dress.
“I want nothing to do with this. Whatever they did, or you did. You can deal with it on your own.”
“You don’t want anything to do with the family?” He sneers. “You say this while wearing the clothing this family’s money bought. Living in the house this family pays for. Eating the food this family feeds you.”
“I have my own money. A job. And I don’t need this house. I only stayed because Marco insisted.” As rebellious as my uncle thinks I was with my brothers, he’s wrong.
I should have been more brazen. Stood up to them more often.
“Ah. You do?” He shakes me then shoves me back a step.
