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I almost laugh. Her voice trembles, but there is enough fire in her words to inspire me. My targets are nothing to me. Just bullets on a to-do list. Yet, something about Eve catches my attention. More than the remarkable amount of skin she is showing, she is glowing with personality and fight, and as much as I want to ignore it, I can’t.
“You must be stupid to talk to me like that,” my father says, sitting forward in his chair. “You know who I am and what I could do to you, and yet you treat me with disrespect. I would have thought your father would have taught you better. Though, your mother was a useless whore, as well. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
Her eyes widen at the mention of her mother, and I feel bad. I don’t know or care enough about her family to know for certain what happened to her mother, but Benedetto has been single for years. Since I was a child.
Eve looks at me. She lowers her head, her wide brown eyes peering from behind thick black lashes, and I hate her. She is a trap. Big eyes, lean limbs, and delicate features. She was made to lure men in. Like sugar mixed with poison, she’ll taste sweet, but kill you in the end. I refuse to let her make a weak fool of me.
“Do you know much about your father’s business?” I ask. My father looks at me, surprised at my intrusion in the conversation, but my eyes are pinned on Eve. I want her to feel the force of my gaze. I want her to feel it like a physical touch. To know I am watching her and, more importantly,I see her.
She lifts her chin and meets my gaze. Her lips are pouty and pink, and I stare at her chin so as not to lose my focus. “Not much, no.”
“Do you know your father is responsible for the deaths of several of my friends?” ‘Friends’ is a generous word, but it hardly matters. “My father and I are very upset about their deaths. It is quite a blow to our organization.”
Her mouth pinches into a tight line. “No, I did not know that.”
“It seems there is a lot you do not know,” my father says, raising an eyebrow.
“Not knowing does not excuse you from responsibility,” I continue. “You are Benedetto Furino’s daughter, and your family has wronged us, and now I ask: what you are willing to do to repay us?”
Eve shifts from one foot to another, the muscles in her legs moving beneath the skin. She does not look like someone who has spent her life studying food. She is tight and toned and curvy, and as much as there is anger and rage boiling beneath my skin, there is something else, too. Something hot and hungry.
“I can get you money,” she says. “My father has plenty of it. Whatever price you feel is right, I’m sure we can—”
My father barks out a sharp laugh, and Eve’s voice cuts off. She blinks quickly, her eyes darting from the floor to the table to my face and back to the floor. I wish she would stop looking at me.
“My father is right. People are dead,” I say. “Money hardly covers that.”
“Then I can’t imagine what I could offer to cover your losses,” she says.
My father’s head tips back and his tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I can imagine a few things.”
The hunger inside of me comes alive, growling at what he is suggesting. Protective of this woman I don’t know or care about.
“Come here.” My father curls a finger, beckoning Eve forward, and pats his lap with his other hand. “Sit and we can discuss the options.”
Eve’s face flushes, heat rising in her neck and cheeks, and I know she knows what he means. What he has in mind. She looks away. “We are in public.”
“Does it seem as though I care?” my father snarls.
Eve is so full of fire. It is troublesome, but much like my own violent tendencies, hers could be tamed and shaped into something useful. Something constructive. She just needs a strong hand to guide her.
Why not me?
No, no. My father has pushed me towards the idea of marriage before, if only to continue the family line, but I am not built for it. I’ve never had a close relationship with anyone besides him. I’ve never trusted anyone else. Never depended on anyone else. Because I am incapable. Marriage requires trust and respect and love, and I can’t offer any of those things.
And yet, I respect Eve. Despite the trouble her family has caused me, I have found myself in awe of her courage. That is something, right?
Eve takes a step towards my father, and questions and ideas and thoughts swirl around my head, fighting for priority. But the thing that continually rises to the surface is one word:no.
My father is patting his lap, opening his arms for Eve to settle into them, and I want to flip the table over and use it like a barrier to keep them apart. She is bending down to slide her legs beneath the table and do as he commands, her eyes glassy with unshed tears. I can’t watch another second.
“I have another idea.”
Eve, I’m sure, is desperate for any reason to not sit on my father’s lap, and she stands up at once. My father turns to me, top lip curled. “What idea would that be?”
He is frustrated with me, and for perhaps the first time in my life, I don’t care. I turn away from him and look at Eve. “We will offer peace in exchange for your hand in marriage.”
A look of horror crosses her face, and her eyes glance to my father before looking back at me.
