With an eye roll, I turn away from him. “What are you talking about?”
“You will be married, Ciara.”
I stop in my tracks and slowly face him. “What?”
“His name is Marco Amato. He’s a little older but it won’t be a problem.”
“How much older?”
Dad hesitates. “Forty. He’s forty.”
“He’s twenty years older than me? You want me to marry a man that old? Are you crazy?” I snap my fingers and once more, the housekeeper comes running. I point at an orange on the kitchen counter and she quickly gets to work peeling it for me, all without saying a word.
“No, I am not crazy. He wants to make a deal with me and I cannot pass that up.”
“Why?”
“He’s Italian.”
I shrug. “So?”
“The Mafia, Ciara. He has more power than I do. I can gain so much from this alliance but I need to make sure he won’t screw me over. Which is why I need him to marry you.”
“The Mafia? Doesn’t that make him dangerous? You’d give your precious daughter away to a man like that?”
“I didn’t want you dating all those boys back in high school because I knew they were trouble. One of them would have got you pregnant and I didn’t want that for you. I wanted you ready for a moment like this.”
“You wanted me to be like a prized horse. That’s what you’re saying.”
He sighs. “Ciara, I know this isn’t ideal. I know you’re not happy about this. And I know you’re going to throw a hissy fit because you always do when you don’t get your way.”
“I don’t throw hissy fits,” I mutter. Right at that moment, the housekeeper hands me the orange but before I can grab it, the fruit falls out of her hand and lands on the floor. “What the hell?” I snap. “Do your job better.”
Dad raises an eyebrow. “See?”
“That wasn’t a hissy fit. That was…”
The housekeeper quickly picks the orange back up and hands it to me.
“I don’t want it now. It’s been on the floor. Peel me another one.”
She nods and starts work on the second orange.
“Ciara,” Dad says in a hard voice. “This is happening. I want this deal to take place and marrying you to Marco is the only way to assure this will happen.”
“Don’t I get a say in my life?”
“Have you ever?”
I pout. “Daddy, please.”
“Don’t ‘daddy’ me. You’re not getting your way this time, princess. You will marry Marco and that’s it.”
“Who will marry who?” Cormac, my brother, asks, coming into the kitchen. Tall and muscular with blonde hair, he looks more like a surfer model than anything else. All my friends had a crush on him growing up and I always hated it.
“Your sister. She will marry Marco Amato.”
Cormac frowns. “Who?”
