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“I’ll do what I have to do,” my father spat as he stood up so hastily that his chair clattered to the floor. The resulting echo was loud, and for a moment it all went silent as I prepared myself to fight for my own freedom.
“So will I. You forget I know who you are, Father. You’re a mobster. A fucking criminal. A murderer. A drug dealer. I could go on and on with each and every law you’ve broken. All I need to do is put in one anonymous tip to the right people and I could take you down. You think I’m naïve, but I know the names of your businesses. I know the names of people you use to launder your money, to sell your drugs. I listen. I observe. I remember because I knew that someday that knowledge may prove useful should I ever need to go against you,” I spat back.
The darkness in his eyes grew pitch black. This was the face of a killer, a person that didn’t hesitate to order someone’s assassination or pull the trigger himself. The true kingpin revealed himself to me at that moment and I steeled myself against the danger. I took my growing fury and held onto it like a vise, using it to fuel my brazen show of power. I was a mobster’s daughter, his fucking daughter, and I wasn’t going to show him a single moment of fragility.
Without a second’s hesitation, he grabbed my arm and tore me out of my seat. He threw me backward and I slammed into the wall, knocking my head hard enough to make me see stars. I cried out and instinctually bowed forward. My fingers flew to the back of my scalp, trying to assess the damage as my head rang from the impact.
No blood. My head spun. It would likely bruise, but there would be no lasting effects other than a nasty headache. I squinted, narrowing my eyes with fury.
“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he roared.
“I would,” I spat.
His gaze took on a dangerous gleam and for the first moment, I felt myself falter. He took advantage of that single precious second and slammed me back against the wall by my throat. His thick fingers curled around my neck and I squeaked in surprise.
It was clear that he held my life in the palm of his hands. If he squeezed just a bit harder, he could end me and the look in his eyes told me that he knew it too. He’d done it before.
My mother said nothing. Not a single god damned word.
“You will sit down and choose a fucking cake. I don’t care which one you choose, but you will choose one. Then your mother and I will take you to your dress fitting and you will go without a fuss. After that, we’re going to go home, and you will go to your room where you will spend the rest of the night thinking about how expendable you are to me. If you even think about picking up that phone to call the cops, I won’t hesitate to slit this pretty throat myself. I don’t need you to barter an alliance with the Battistas; you are just the simplest solution. You’re replaceable. There’s plenty of girls in the family that I could marry off. Know that you’re not special, you worthless cunt,” he sneered. His fingers grasped a little bit tighter, as if his words weren’t enough to send a message. The pressure was just enough to cut off a portion of my breath. Any tighter and I’d lose the ability to breathe at all.
I stared into his eyes. He was deadly serious. I’d played my hand and lost. He had been dealt the winning suit that topped mine by a long shot.
I swallowed, knowing that I had been defeated. I couldn’t win this battle against him, not by myself and not like this. My father had too much power over my family. He wouldn’t make that kind of threat in jest.
I had to know when to fold and that time was right now. I still had the next twenty-four hours to figure out my next move. I’d come up with something. At least, I hoped I would.
Slowly, I nodded with understanding. I didn’t say anything because I was afraid that my emotion would show in my voice and I wouldn’t be able to hide my fear. He narrowed his eyes at me one last time and finally released me, acknowledging that I had backed down. My fingers rubbed at the skin of my throat, trying to force away the feeling of my own father’s cruel hands against me.
I sniffed back my emotion, storing it away so that I could do what was expected of me. In silence, I sat back down at the table and stared at the mini cakes set before me. I glanced at my mother once, seeing the way she had her hands clenched desperately together, so much so that her knuckles had turned white. She was shaking. I turned my eyes back to the samples because it was too much for me to bear. She would never help me stand up against him and I let go of that improbable hope once and for all. I would need to think of something else.
My father cleared his throat once more.
“Go get Mrs. Clement for us now, Stella,” he said to my mother. She rushed out of the room, almost like she couldn’t wait to get away from us. I stared at the door after she left and the hair on the back of my neck rose as his hand pressed against my left shoulder. I waited for him to hit me, but the blow never came.
“Keri, I mean what I said,” my father said coldly. There was zero emotion in his words. I was simply a business transaction for him now.
“I know,” I whispered.
“Family is important to me, but I don’t tolerate disobedience. Never forget that,” he said harshly.
“Yes, Father,” I spat, playing the part of a dutiful daughter the best that I could.
The door opened again, and the elderly baker returned. She smiled, but her face was tight as she gazed back at me and my father. He removed his hand from me, and she tried not to show that she noticed, but I saw it anyway in the way her breath caught in her throat. At least someone here was concerned for me.
“Have you decided on a cake?” she asked, her voice exceedingly strained. I chewed on the inside of my cheek for a moment, before I finally forced myself to answer.
“What’s the most expensive one?” I pressed, lifting my eyes to face hers.
“The lemon cake with the raspberry frosting. I use only the best organic fruit in the making of that one,” she answered plainly. Her gaze shifted from mine to my father’s and back. I lifted my chin, refusing to let my emotions show.
“Then I’ll take that one. We can afford it,” I replied. I saw my father grimace just a touch beside me, but it didn’t matter. If he wanted to sell me off like a prized horse, he was going to have to pay for it.
* * *
The rest of the day dragged by. The fitting went as per usual with the seamstress poking me with one needle after the next. The best part of the whole thing was that my parents had to sit outside the dressing room until it was over, so I had at least two hours of blessed peace other than the woman rambling on and on about how pretty a bride I was going to be. I mostly tuned her out, thanking her periodically so I didn’t hurt her feelings.
When it was over, my parents and I returned home. I disappeared into my room once we arrived. I spent about an hour listening to music before dinner was brought to my room. It was small, a caprese salad as well as a limited selection of meats and cheeses, but I enjoyed every last bite as I tried to figure out what I was going to do. After I was finished, I sat down at my desk and opened my laptop.
