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“Ciera,” Dad chastises as he cuts her off. “If you call me by my last name one more time, I’m liable to wash your mouth out with soap. You didn’t have a problem calling me Tony last night, so what’s different about today?”
She glances at me and then back to my father. Her cheeks flush as if she’s embarrassed, and because she’s a redhead with a fair complexion, it cascades down her chest. “I’m sorry. I drank more than I should have and—”
“Put us both to shame. Don’t apologize, rainbow. You finally relaxed for the first time since you arrived. It was a welcomed change in the pool house,” Giovanni praises her, making my blood heat and irritation seep beneath my tanned skin.
“Do you need something, Ciera?” Dad asks.
“I was wondering if I could go to a few stores in the city for some things.”
“No,” he says without giving her question thought as if he was waiting for it, and knowing him, he probably predicted she’d ask. Her shoulders drop at his response and an ache threads through my chest. “You know you cannot leave the house without Giovanni or myself accompanying you. Make a list. I’ll have LeAnna get anything you need.”
“No. It’s fine. I don’t want to be a bother.”
“I’m sorry, but did we kidnap her too? Is that why she’s under house arrest?” For the life of me, I don’t know why it bugs me that he told her she isn’t allowed to leave the property without an escort. She may be underage in the sense that I don’t fuck women under the legal drinking age, but she isn’t exactly a child like I said she was.
“Domenico, don’t be stupid,” Dad chastises. “Had you not released her in New Orleans I wouldn’t have had to collect her yesterday before your sister’s wedding.”
“So, we are in the business of caged varmints then?”
“You’re a right bollix, you know that?” she pops off, and I haven’t the first idea what that means, but I’m guessing it’s supposed to be an insult from the tone in which it fell from her plump lips. My eyes remain on them longer than they should, then my lids finally flick up to her emerald stare.
A laugh bursts from Giovanni, followed by a groan. “Don’t make me laugh today, rainbow, but you hit the nail on the head. He’s certainly a bollix.” It doesn’t sound remotely as sexy as when the word rolled off Ciera’s tongue. “I have time. I’ll take you to get whatever you need. It’ll give these two time to discuss the wedding plans.”
“Did one or both of you sample the goods before you decided she’d be the one you saddled me with?” The words barely roll off my tongue before I feel the sting across my face.
I react without thought, treating her no differently than if it had been my sister striking me. Jutting my hand out, I wrap my fingers around her throat as I twist her, forcing her body to flip so that her back is to me as I pull her across the counter.
“I don’t know what they told you about me, little girl, but when you come at me, you better be prepared to go all the way. I’ll drown you and not think twice about it. If you want to live, you better fight with everything you have.” I pause and look into scared eyes, my heart pounding and my brain screaming at me to stop, but I ignore my irrelevant conscience. “I’d think long and hard before you sayI doto me,” I tell her in the most acerbic tone I can force out of my mouth.
CHAPTER 5
CIERA
After Domenico ordered me to leave Santo’s place in New Orleans, I didn’t know where to go. I’ve never been on my own before, never allowed to apply for a job even though I’d graduated high school two years ago. I was supposed to return to America to attend college, but my father didn’t hold up the arrangement he’d made with my great-uncle, Liam O’Donovan.
Instead, he sold me to a sleazeball who bought me as a wedding present for his son. I was supposed to become his wife—his virgin wife, my father boasted. Only I’m not a virgin, and Cormac Fitzgerald knew that. I hadn’t figured out how to get away from either Salvatore or his son Marco. They kept me locked in a second-floor bedroom the four months I’d been there. The only fresh air I was granted was a window, and although it didn’t have a screen, there were bars on the other side. Climbing out wasn’t an option, though. I’m far too thick to have squeezed between them, and even if I could’ve, it was at least a twenty-five-foot drop to the pavement. So, I kept the window open unless it was storming outside.
When I finally stepped onto the paved sidewalk again, I didn’t know which way to turn at first. Louisiana was as much a foreign place as New York still is. I didn’t even know my father’s phone number to call him. What I did know was Killian’s number, but only because I’d overheard him say it once, and having a photographic memory, it was etched in my head.
I didn’t want to come back here, but what choice did I have? I had no money, at least not in New Orleans. What funds I did have, I left hidden at my father’s home. No one there is smart enough to find it or even consider I’d had anything stashed away. I knew from the second I met Salvatore that anything I brought with me would be plundered through and taken should it be deemed valuable.
I used a hotel telephone to make a call once I was finally free. My half-brother, Killian, who’s nearly two years younger than me, arranged for me to be picked up and taken to the airport half an hour later. By noon, I was back in the city.
I was born in New York City, but all I knew up to my eighteenth birthday, fourteen months ago, had been my great-uncle’s home outside of Dublin. I wasn’t a captive there like I was at my father’s home, then the Santo boss, and now the Caputo one. Granted, I wouldn’t want to return home to Ireland if my life depended on it.
They say choose the devil you know, but I highly doubttheyknew the same as me. There are many things I miss from back home, though. It’s a beautiful place with so many friendly people.
I wasn’t allowed to have friends. I was homeschooled by a private tutor, but I was allowed to explore when my great-uncle wasn’t home. As long as I didn’t break his rules, disobey him, or let my grades drop, then I had more freedom. Still, I’d rather endure any slur spewed from Domenico’s mouth or his fingers digging into my flesh over returning toanyof the people I share DNA with.
“We’re here, kiddo.” Giovanni’s smooth voice sounds from my left, drawing my eyes to peek out the glass in front of me, seeing the Irish food market I’d requested he take me to. We left Tony’s half an hour ago, going through a toll to get here. I’m no stranger to them. We have toll roads in the Republic of Ireland too. “What do you need from here anyway?”
He turns off the ignition with the push of a button and then slips from the driver’s side door without waiting for my answer, so I unbuckle and do the same. By the time I’m closing the passenger’s side door, Giovanni is waiting for me by the front bumper.
Crossing to the other side of the street, I say, “It’s supposed to be chilly tonight. I thought I’d make a beer and cheese soup and bake some sourdough bread.”
Last year when it turned cold, I didn’t want to cook anything for my family. After being in America for a month with no mention of it, I realized my great-uncle hadn’t told my father I’m somewhat of an amateur chef. If he had, the man would’ve made me cook every day instead of paying a housekeeper to do that and clean. Had he not sold me to pay off a gambling debt, he likely would have made me work as the maid.
Pulling open the glass door, Giovanni waits for me to enter the store before him. Between him and Tony, I don’t know if they are naturally gentlemen or if they’re putting on a facade to keep me from running.
