Owned: A Mafia Menage Romance (10 page)

“Good morning, Daddy,” I call out. My voice is tired and sick-sounding.

He walks into the room and scowls at me. His eyes flicker toward Gianna and she starts for the doorway. I hear her footsteps going up the stairs.

Daddy squints at me, waiting until her footsteps sound on the floorboards above our heads.

“You were out late last night,” he says.

I just nod. I don't want to say too much here, for fear he's going to read my mind or smell it on me, or whatever. I feel different. It must be completely obvious to every other human being in the world.

“You don't look so good. You feel okay?”

Shrugging, I take a deep breath and a long sip of my tea. The peppermint really does seem to be helping.

“Where did you go?”

“Don't you know?” I say before I think it through. Instantly I want to suck those words back in, but there they are, hanging in the air between us.

He runs his tongue over his teeth, sucking loudly. “I don't need your attitude this morning, Marie. I asked you a question.”

“I just went out,” I say, my courage crumbling into powder. “I just needed some time to think.”

His sigh fills the room. His disappointment is like a sort of air, settling into everything. Automatically, I want to please him. I don't want him to be upset with me. But I'm so upset, I don't know what else to do. I also just want to scream and stomp my feet like a little kid until he gives me what I want. But what do I want, exactly? I don't know. It's like I never ever get the chance to figure that out for myself.

“Dinner tonight, 8:30.”

My breath stalls in my lungs. Tonight, already?

“Did you hear me?”

He's rocking back and forth on his feet, his arms crossed over his chest. I can see this red flush creeping up over his neck as he gets more frustrated with my attitude.

“Answer me, Marie!”

Though I know what I'm going to say, I make him wait. Even waiting a few seconds is fairly outrageous in his book. But at this point, what else am I going to do?

At least I know I did something on my own last night. And he didn't find me or anything. And he doesn't seem to know right now. At least I’ve got that, which isn't everything, but it's definitely something. I just hope it's enough to last me the rest of my life.

I stand up, nodding. I don't even look at him as I leave the room, but I say loud enough so he can hear me, “I'll see you at 8:30.”

Gianna is standing at the top of the stairs when I come into the front hallway. I glare at her meaningfully and she backs up, walking silently on her heels back to my room. She clutches the finance textbook to her chest as I come in the room, barely daring to breathe.

“What was that?” she says in a frightened whisper. It's like we have to whisper to each other like prisoners of war or something.

“Can you stay?”

She doesn't look convinced, but she nods her head. “Of course I can stay, honey. What you need?”

“An outfit.”

She tips her head to one side slightly. Her eyes flicker over to my open closet, which holds maybe five hundred outfits in every color and style. Most of those I didn't even pick out by myself, they just sort of appeared there or Daddy gave them to me. I haven't even worn most of them.

“Okay…” she says slowly. She drops the book on my dressing table and pushes a line of hair away from her cheek, tucking it behind her ear. “An outfit for what?”

I take a deep breath, trying the words out a few times in my mind before I'm able to actually say them out loud. “For tonight. So I can go meet my new husband.”

***

Jimmy Two-Fist opens the door for me and his eyebrows go up, way up. I step into Daddy's huge marble foyer, smoothing the dress over my hips. Jimmy is one of Daddy's oldest associates. He's about twice the size that he used to be, and he pats up his giant belly as he nods and smile-frowns at my outfit.

“You sure clean up nice, kid,” he says, smacking his lips over some piece of candy he's got in his mouth.

“Thanks, Jimmy,” I say automatically.

He steps back as he closes the front door and the sound of it latching behind me is like one of those important sounds in a movie. The click, it echoes through the marble hallway.

I can feel the air over my bare shoulders. For about the thousandth time, I'm regretting this dress. It's strapless with a low, plunging back. The fabric is a deep, blood red with a cinched waist and ruched hips. It's too much.

But Gianna said it was perfect. I don't know. I know she never would have worn something like this; it's way too revealing. She likes to keep it on the conservative side, which is why I think she likes dressing me up like such a slut. A little vicarious action, you might say.

But tonight, I didn't want to look like this at all. I wanted to look like I was going for first communion or something. Instead, I look like the sort of person Daddy has tried to make sure I never was.

Balancing my weight forward on my toes, I walk as quietly as I can to the dining room door. The huge, carved panels are almost shut, with just a few inches opening in the middle. I can hear voices coming from inside. There's Daddy, and another man. Maybe a third man too.

Willing my heart to quiet down, I press my palms to the door and wait, listening. I just want a moment to catch my breath, to try to get my head around what's about to happen.

“So you've never been to the city before?” I hear Daddy saying.

“It's a beautiful city,” another man says. “Boris has been showing us around.”

“It is, it is,” Daddy says. I know that he prefers New York, but Chicago is his home. He has that sort of pride in his voice. “I assume you’ll be making use of the club too. My house is your house now. Please, make yourself at home.”

“That's very kind of you, Don Lauro,” the voice says. “What kind of club is it?”

“Ah,” Daddy says, and I can almost picture him in my mind, sitting back and folding his hands over his belly. He loves to talk about the club. “Just a small place, really. A place for my friends to come, gather, enjoy a few cigars, a drink or two. Nothing too special.”

“If your home is any indication, I'm sure it's a beautiful club,” the stranger says politely. I nod, knowing Daddy is probably extremely pleased at this point. Good manners and a little flattery go along way with him. He's accustomed to being treated like a king.

“It is, it is… But I'm sure that you are both eager to hear more about the arrangement. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Don Lauro, I am honored to be welcomed into your home,” another voice says. The tone is different from the first speaker, more formal, less ingratiating.

Oh, geez. This lovefest is making me sick. What kind of toe-licker has Daddy married me off to?

“That you would consider allowing me to care for your daughter is a greater honor than I deserve. I only hope that I can prove worthy of the trust that you've placed in me.”

Daddy sighs out a long groan of reluctance. “She's truly my pride and joy. She is a gift, the light in my world.”

“She must truly be an angel.”

“You have no idea. My daughter is a rare, precious gift. It breaks my heart to see her off, and yet I know… You will take care of her, won't you.”

“He is a man of honor, Don Lauro. I assure you,” says the first man smoothly.

“As am I, as am I,” I hear Daddy say.

I can tell by his voice that he feels satisfied with this arrangement. Just like that. Whatever they’ve been talking about, I just got passed across the table like a tray of food to the stranger.

“To the continued peace between our families,” I hear the first stranger say.

“To peace,” says the second stranger.

“Yes,” Daddy says, and their glasses clink together.

Well, I suppose I might as well get this over with. Now that they've basically shaken hands on the deal, I might as well go in.

I push the doors apart and step into the dining room, my eyes automatically going to the floor. All three men stand up as I enter and I can feel their stares as they look me over.

My eyes find Daddy first. His cheeks are flushed with wine, and he smiles at me broadly, nodding. With some effort, I smile back politely, just like I'm supposed to.

I finally get the courage to urge my eyes toward the next man. He raises his glass toward me, then pauses. I look at his thick, muscled arms, his broad shoulders, trying to force myself to look at his face. It seems to take a long time to raise my eyes to his, and what I'm seeing doesn't make any sense.

Charcoal grey eyes glare at me from beneath heavy brows. His face is handsome, I think, and then not as much. His dark, wavy hair is closely shorn over his head, curling slightly at his hairline.

No, it can't be.

“Marie,” I hear Daddy say, his voice breaking with emotion.

But the stranger steps forward. He extends his hand as his expression goes from confusion to something like fury, to something like revulsion. He looks like I've just told him a terrible joke.

“Roman,” he says in a controlled growl.

Automatically, my hand floats up to clasp his even as I'm begging myself not to. I want to run from the room. I want to disappear, to wink out of existence like a bad dream.

This can't be happening. This can't be him.

My eyes flicker toward the third man. It’s Alek, the friendly yet forceful brother from last night. I can still almost feel his hands holding me open and ready for his brother as he…

Oh, my God.

Alek smirks at me, quirking one perfect eyebrow and tipping his glass toward me with an expression that is both amused and polite, as though rendering a punchline and an apology at the same time.

“Shake his hand, Marie,” I hear Daddy say in an embarrassed warning tone.

Startled, I look down at my hand as Roman’s draws ever nearer. His giant paw covers my hand, obliterating it in his fingers. He holds my hand firmly, caging my bones in a way that lets me know that I couldn't pull my arm back even if I wanted to.

I stare up into his face, into his fathomless dark eyes. Though I can't tell exactly what he's thinking, I don't think it's good.

He glares at me for long seconds while my heart tries to burst in my chest. No matter how many times I wish it, I can't simply go into cardiac arrest. It looks like I'm going to have to live through this, at least for the moment, as ridiculous as that sounds.

Finally he drops my hand, pushing it away slightly as though it’s something horrible. He turns on his heel and walks back to the chair where he was sitting. Picking up his glass of port, he tosses it back and swallows hard.

Alek’s eyes shift between Roman and me over and over. A smile is stretched over his wide, friendly mouth. Out of all of us, Alek is the only one who seems really pleased. “Isn't she beautiful, Roman?”

Roman nods, pausing a few seconds before he answers. I see Daddy's eyes go dark.

“Dinner is served,” Marisela calls from the doorway. Everyone looks at her for a moment, aware of being caught in the act. She stands and pulls the door to the formal dining room open, revealing a lush table set with candles and an array of lavish china.

Obediently we shuffle into the dining room. Daddy takes his place at the far end of the table, while Alek and Roman take seats on either side of him. I take my place at the other end of the table, several feet away from the gathering of men. I feel like there's a spotlight on me, harsh and hot.

Marisela serves steaming ladles of a rich chicken broth into the bowls in front of us. Daddy flicks his napkin and lays it across his lap, peering sideways at Roman. Roman’s demeanor has apparently changed, and Daddy appears to be calculating the meaning and measure of the change.

Alek takes a loud spoonful of soup into his mouth as he glares at his brother. Roman does not take his eyes off me. I stare into the depths of my soup and tip a mouthful onto the spoon. For long seconds I let it hover in front of my nose, fighting a wave of nausea that makes me think that maybe I shouldn't eat anything.

“An absolute treasure,” I hear Roman finally say. I sip at the soup and let it course over my tongue, streaming down the back of my throat and into my empty belly with a splash.

I'm afraid to look up. I hope that what he's just said has made Daddy happy, but I hear something distasteful in his voice.

“She's well worthy of the peace, I think,” Roman continues, his voice rising in timbre. A chill runs across my bare shoulders as I feel his eyes sweeping back and forth. “Do you think that she is, how would you say this... sturdy enough for marriage?”

I stifle a gasp. The table shifts slightly as Daddy pushes himself back in his chair. His hand goes up to the bottom half of his face and he rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“I don't think I get your meaning, Roman,” Daddy says carefully.

“It's just that I presume your ways are different.”

I glance at Alek who is peering at his brother, his face a mask of caution.

Daddy nods. “I suppose they are,” he says reasonably. “And yet, isn’t love the same everywhere? I'm certain she can adjust.”