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Ninety-nine percent of them have been trafficked. Yet another reason I’ve wanted out of this world for so long. Everything is tainted in blood and deceit.
“Baby, why did you never come to me? Why did you never tell me how unhappy—”
“As if you would’ve listened. I had been slated to marry that man since we were children. I was brought up in a household where no love or affection was shown between you and Mother, purely a business transaction that miraculously turned into a friendship, which mine never did. I’ve seen nothing else in my life, so please, tell me honestly what you would’ve done if I came to you and cried about not having a loving relationship with my husband?” My voice grows in volume as I continue, not giving him a chance to answer. “He never physically abused me; there were never visible marks on my body for proof of my unhappiness. You would’ve told me to suck it up, that this is what all marriages are supposed to be like. Even though I know it’s a lie. I’ve read enough books, seen enough movies, to know our way of life is not how it’s supposed to be like.”
His shoulders slump in defeat, and I know he hears the truth in my words. “I would’ve at least threatened him within an inch of his life to put forth the effort to make you happy, to be better to you. While there may not have been love and affection, there could’ve at least been a friendship. Your mother and I at least have that.”
That is true. My parents never showed PDA or any kind of verbal endearments, but they were kind to each other. They shared inside jokes and often spoke about the good ole days and memories they had together. Ferro and I never had anything even close to that. I was just a hole to stick his dick in once a month.
“But I will admit,” he adds, and my eyes meet his once again, “I’ve never seen such life in your eyes, my baby girl. You look… healthier. You’re still too thin, in my opinion—which I’ve told you for years now—but your cheeks… they’re no longer hollow, and there’s color in them like there once was when you were a teenager. Your eyes are alight, when before it’s like a bulb inside them was turned off. And you’re so… relaxed. You’ve always been so tightly wound, but suddenly you seem like you can breathe easier. And I’m not dumb enough to ignore that all of these improvements must have come from this man beside you.”
He clears his throat, standing up from the leather chair and holding his hand out to DeLuca. “I never want to see the light go out in my daughter’s eyes again. When this is all over, you have my approval, if you are who she wants,” he tells him, and DeLuca stands, gripping my father’s hand and giving it one solid shake before my dad turns to me. “And I want you to promise me that if he ever makes you unhappy, you will come to me, so I can be the one to put his lights out.”
I smile, standing to give him a hug. “I promise, Daddy,” I say, sending a wink and a smirk around his bicep to DeLuca as a warning to keep that in mind if he ever tries to get fresh with me. He just grins and shakes his head.
Dad steps back and addresses both of us. “Now, let’s finalize these plans to put this fucker down.”
18
Deluca
I look at, tighten, and straighten the silk bow tie of my suit in the mirror. I’m dressed for this damn masquerade ball I’ve been dreading to go to all day. I dread it because it means leaving my piccolina alone, at least without me, for the better part of the night. But on the opposite end of this trepidation is relief, knowing I will soon murder the man who hired me to kill the beautiful siren laid out, asleep, and naked in the covers I left her in.
Naked. She is completely naked, and only the sheet is draped over her.
Her father’s comments come back to me then. He said she has more color in her cheeks; she looks happier, healthier, and there is life inside her gorgeous orbs. I’m part of that. Giving her a glimpse of the future we both desire to have one day. Kids. Us. I plan to make that dream a reality. Yes, it’s because I want that with her, but more so, I just want her to be linked to me, sealing her fate to me for the rest of fucking time.
“Please tell me you’ll come home to me, make love to me when it’s all over.” Her groggy voice comes slicing through my internal dialogue. I see her on her knees at the edge of the bed, naked and breathtaking for me. Righting my bow tie one last time, I turn and face her. She eyes me up and down, clearly appreciating the masculine picture I make. I won’t complain.
