I clutch the banister of the staircase, meeting his gaze head-on. I’m not afraid. Not anymore. “Tell me I’m wrong, then.”
He huffs and puffs, nostrils flaring, but he refuses to answer me. “That has nothing to do with any of this, and it’s not the point of this conversation.”
“Yes, it does, and you know it,” I say. “That’s entirely the point. You’re trying to avenge her death, but she’d never agree to you doing this to someone else. She’d never tell you it’s okay to lock your wife up in your house just so you can use her.”
His jaw tenses, and he tries to walk off again, but I won’t let him. I march right after him, grab his shoulder, and force him to turn around. “You don’t want to be used as a pawn, yet you use me as yours,” I accuse him. “You never stop to ask me how this affected me. Do you even know how distraught I was when I found out I was going to have to marry Lucio? And then on my fucking wedding day, you intervene, only to force me to marry you instead, in front of my own damn mother?” His eyes soften, but I’m not done yet. “I haven’t even seen her since that day. I don’t even know if she’s okay.” I clutch my own arms to keep the panicat bay as tears well up in my eyes. “I don’t even know if she’s still alive.”
He closes his eyes and lets out an exasperated breath. His shoulders slump as he shakes his head. “I ...”
He doesn’t continue, and I don’t think I’ve ever met a Mafia lord who didn’t know what to say. Then again, I’ve never really met another Mafia lord. Well, except for Lucio, of course.
“I’m done,” I say. “Do you hear me? I’m done pretending any of this is okay. You’re destroying me.”
I grab the ring that’s hanging from my neck, tear it off by the necklace, and chuck it right at his chest. “Keep your stupid ring. It means nothing to me.”
I storm back toward the stairs, while he leans over to grab the ring from the floor with such care that it nearly makes me turn around. But I cannot keep trying to convince him to see me as a human being with wants and needs of my own.
I storm up the stairs while he stays behind, wistfully staring at me from the ground floor. I slam my door shut and fall onto my bed, crying my eyes out.
Not just from missing my mother or for being used like a chess piece.
But because I’ll be stuck in a loveless marriage … for the rest of my life.
Matteo
I stare at the ring she just flung at my chest and feel the tears forming in my eyes, but I push them away. She’s right. My mother never would’ve wanted this, not for me nor for the woman I’d make my wife.
What the fuck has become of me?
I run my fingers through my hair and nearly crush the ring in my hand, but it will never fail to remind me of the weight it carries, of the meaning behind the words I spoke to her on that day at the altar.
I do.
I chose her.
I said yes, and now I’m betraying the very essence of what it means to be husband and wife. I’m no better than Lucio.
Sarah approaches me and clears her throat. “Sorry to disturb you, Mr. De Silva.”
I swiftly tuck her ring into my pocket and turn around. “What is it?”
“There’s a visitor for you. I’ve asked them to wait in your living room until you are ready.”
Just what I needed. More complications to an already difficult day. “Thanks.”
Frowning, I make my way to the living room, wondering who came to visit me unannounced, but when I see my own damn brother’s face, my frown lights up.
“Glad to see you’re still in one piece,” he says, chuckling as he walks toward me to give me a big hug.
“Angelo, what are you doing here?”
“Not even a hello?” He slaps my shoulder. “Always the serious one.”
He waltzes off and pilfers my bar until he finds an empty glass and a bottle of liquor. “The Russian stuff? That’s unlike you.”
“It’s just vodka,” I say, sighing.
He pours himself a drink and takes a sip. “Whatever you say, Ruski.”
