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Once I get my hair dry and semi-styled, I grab the clothes I laid out and get dressed. I almost cackle as I put them on. They are so far away from what I used to wear at my father’s. There are no designer clothes here. I’m wearing a faded blue T-shirt with the word Beach Bum written across it. In bold white letters. I’ve got a pair of cutoff jeans on with that. Both items of clothes I picked up at a secondhand store in town. I happen to love them. Heck, most of my wardrobe that I wear on a daily basis came from there.
I look in the mirror once more, thinking the reflection of the woman in front of me looks vibrant and happy. I smile. I walk out of the bath and walk down the small hall to the kitchen. I’ll fix myself a sandwich and then curl up with a book. I want to enjoy today. I love where I work but it really does wear me out by the end of the day. I need some downtime desperately.
I walk into the kitchen and open the fridge, trying to decide exactly what I want. I have the strangest craving for tuna salad. I have the fixings for it, but I’m not sure I want to invest the time. A ham sandwich would just be easier.
“Did you really think you could run away from me, Daughter?”
I freeze the minute I hear my father’s voice. I stand there looking into my refrigerator—afraid to move. It’s as if cold water is poured over me and stealing my breath and every bit of hopefulness. I bring the pads of my fingers up to my lips. Vaguely, I realize my hand is shaking. I close my eyes and do my best to hold back my panic. I can’t let my father see my weakness because he will exploit it. I raise up slowly, counting backwards from twenty in my head. I turn to face the devil, praying I don’t let him see how scared I am.
I stare at him, sitting there with his dark black hair, perfectly groomed. Even his graying temples have been colored so that he looks more my age than his own. He’s sitting at my kitchen table, the chair turned to face me. His suit is perfectly pressed, his legs crossed, and his hand draped over his lap like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Two of my brothers are standing beside him. Atlas and Marco. Of all my brothers, I can appreciate seeing Marco more than any of them. He tries to look out for me—maybe even protect me—more than the others. Atlas, however, is just a younger version of my father. They even look almost exactly alike. Marco looks nothing like my father. He’s the oldest of all my brothers and his hair is definitely grayer with just spots of black that show through. He’s twenty-three years older than me. Sometimes I wonder why he stays with my father’s business. I never ask him. I may like him more than the others, but we don’t have a lot of heart-to-heart talks.
My family is just not set up that way.
“Father,” I murmur.
“Is that all you have to say?”
“How did you find me?” I realize that’s a stupid thing to ask, but it’s the one thing I really want to know. I think, in the back of my mind, I know that if I ever get the chance to escape again, I need to know where I went wrong.
“I own Athens and everything connected to it. Did you really think you could get away from me?”
“I thought I would try,” I answer honestly.
My father stands up and I refuse to step back. The cold air from the fridge blasts my back, but I’m already frozen all the way through at this point, so I barely notice it. My father takes a couple of steps, closing the distance between us.
“You’ve cost me a lot of aggravation and embarrassment and you think you can get away with your smart-mouthed responses, Melina?”
“I’m not trying to be smart. I’m being honest. I warned you I didn’t want to marry a man who is old enough to by my grandfather,” I whisper.
I wanted the words to be stronger, to sound resolute—just like the devil in front of me. I can’t hardly muster that, but at least I didn’t stutter.
I barely see his hand come out as he slaps me across the face. I cry out, the pain hitting me more than it ever has before. My cheek burns as I quickly realize that he put more force behind this blow—more than he ever has before.
“You owe this family. You owe me. You will do as I tell you and quit acting like a petulant child,” he growls. “Marco, Atlas, take her to the car.”
They walk toward me, and I can see the regret on Marco’s face. I shake my head no because I think I even see pity. I feel tears stinging my eyes. I take off running but my brother catches me easily, looping his arm around my waist and pulling me back to him.
“Calm down. Let him send you to America. You’ll have a better chance to get away, little one,” he whispers. I close my eyes. He used to call me that when I was six and he was in charge of watching me while I played outside. It seems like a lifetime ago. Back then, I felt so protected by my brother. Now, I just feel alone.
Except for the night I spent in Antonio’s arms, I’ve felt alone for most of my life. I beat on my brother’s hands just the same. I kick against his hold and try to wrestle away. He ignores me and hoists me up over his shoulder. I look up as tears stream down my face. My father is staring back at me, his expression mocking. Atlas is much the same. I should dry my tears, but I’m too busy grieving the loss of my freedom, and the death of the hope that had begun to blossom inside of me.
antonio
One Month Later
You would think I’d be relaxed. Niko is better and has accepted the position as my Consigliere. He’s a fitting replacement for Maxwell. I still don’t have a second in command, and I still have no desire to appoint anyone. It’s a bitter pill to know that one of my own took out two men who I trusted and cared for. Hell, they almost took out three. I have some reevaluating to do and that’s something that will take time. I’m dealing with too much right now. Since bringing Niko into the fold, you would think I would be satisfied—and yet, I’m not.
I haven’t been able to find Melina and fuck, I’ve been trying hard. I need her in my grasp. I want her and the fact that getting her means I will keep her away from her father is just an added bonus. I’m going to enjoy fucking Dracos over while sinking balls deep into his little girl every night. It turns out when Melina wants to hide out, she’s really good at it. I will find her—I’m just not sure how long it will take, and I know time is my enemy.
Killian and EZ are working on it, and I figure they will have better luck than me, since they have been monitoring Kelly—Melina’s apparent fiancé—for months. Christ, I knew I didn’t like Dracos, but what kind of fucking shit-for-brains father would sell his daughter to that kind of slime?
I pick up the phone and dial Killian’s number to check on the progress. I can’t keep waiting. I need to find her before her father tracks her down. It rings a couple of time before he picks up. I hate to admit that I’m anxious—but I fucking am.
“I was just about to call you,” Killian laughs.
“Does that mean you’ve found her.”
“Yes and no,” he hedges.
