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"I won't do it, Papa," I manage to say, my voice trembling with a mixture of anger and fear. "I won't marry him." However, before I can react, his hand strikes my face with such force that I know it will leave a bruise. The sound reverberates through the empty hallway, and tears well up in my eyes.
"Adalina, how dare you embarrass me! You better start showing some respect to Mario. In three days, he will be your husband!" My father's voice is filled with anger and disappointment.
"I refuse to marry him – you can't force me!" I protest, tears streaming down my face as I gingerly touch my stinging cheek.
"You're right, I can't force you. But if you don't marry him, I will disown you and leave you with nothing. And then I will arrange for your dear sister, Delphina, to marry him when she turns 18!" His words hang in the air, leaving a heavy silence.
"You wouldn't!" I gasp, a mixture of disbelief and despair washing over me.
"Just watch me. Your duty to this family and to the families of New York is to marry Mario Alfonso. Your marriage will solidify our alliance with the Chicago Outfit. That is your role, and you will perform it with a smile on your face, even when he fucks you on your wedding night! He will be your husband, and you will fulfill your obligations as a wife! Am I clear?" My father's tone is resolute and cold.
"Yes, Papa," I reply, my voice choked with tears. I try to hold them back, but they flow freely down my face. I feel trapped, with no choice but to marry this despicable man, lest my sister suffer the same fate. It is my duty to protect her, to shield her from this cruelty. A man like Mario would chew her up and spit her out. At least I will be able to handle him. I hope.
"Now, get back to your engagement party and put a smile on your face!" Papa's grip on my hand tightens as he forcefully guides me back into the midst of the party. Mario stands there, a repulsive grin on his face.
"She's all yours," my father tells him before walking away, leaving me alone with this vile man.
Mario's arm encircles my waist, and I feel a shiver of disgust crawl down my spine. He leans in, his breath hot against my ear as he delivers his disturbing threat. "Just for that little outburst, Princess, I am going to fuck every one of your holes on our wedding night."
I attempt to pull away, but his grip tightens, sending a wave of unease through me. I can sense the gazes of the other guests fixed upon us, witnessing the display of dominance by my future husband.
"Such a tough guy to bully a woman," I mutter under my breath, unable to suppress my defiance.
"What did you say?" he demands, his hold on my waist tightening.
With a surge of confidence, I repeat my insult, making my voice clear and unwavering, "I called you a bully."
Mario's lips contort into a twisted sneer as he leans in, his breath scalding my ear. "You will learn not to disrespect me. I can't wait to break you and make you my whore."
His words weigh heavily upon me, a suffocating and repugnant presence. It's sickening to think that everyone around us perceives his words as romantic and affectionate, unaware of the vile filth that spills from his mouth.
People approach us, offering their congratulations. I force a smile, trying to maintain the facade. Eventually, I excuse myself, seeking refuge in the Ladies' Room. Collapsing onto a plush couch, I feel overwhelmed and trapped.
A gentle voice interrupts my thoughts, and I lift my gaze to meet the empathetic eyes of Gwen Vincenzio, Bobby's exquisite wife. Her hand rests soothingly on my arm, emanating a sense of comfort and understanding.
"I'm Gwen. Bobby's wife," she introduces herself, although her identity is already known to me. She exudes youth, beauty, and an impeccable sense of style, evoking a sense of envy within me.
"I am aware. Thank you. I will manage. It's just a lot to process," I respond, attempting to project composure.
"I understand how you feel. I was in your shoes almost a year ago. Arranged marriages are antiquated. I consider myself fortunate, though - I had a huge crush on my husband before we were married," she confides.
"Yes, you were fortunate," I reply, my voice tinged with a touch of bitterness.
"Listen, Adalina, I can talk to Bobby about this. If you don't want to marry Mario, I'll be happy to help. Bobby isn't a fan of arranged marriages either. Maybe we can find a way out of this," she offers, her words filling me with a surge of hope. Could there truly be a chance to escape this nightmare? I gaze at Gwen, appreciating her kindness and courage. Perhaps there is a glimmer of possibility after all.
However, thoughts of my father's reaction and the potential consequences of Gwen involving her influential husband in our affairs quickly dampen my optimism. It wouldn't be wise. Besides, Mafia bosses and capos rarely meddle in their soldiers' personal lives.
"No, thank you. I'll manage on my own," I decline, my resolve firm.
Together, we exit the Ladies' lounge, and I plaster a smile onto my face. I summon the courage to rejoin the party, standing by Mario's side.
"Good girl," Mario remarks, praising my smile as he wraps his arm around my waist. I feel the unpleasant weight of his touch, trying to suppress my shudder.
As he converses with guests, his stale breath grazes my neck, causing a wave of revulsion to wash over me. I overhear his conversation with a group of Outfit men, discussing his upcoming bachelor party at the Outfit's strip club, "On All Fours." Their comments are lewd and repugnant. I yearn for this engagement party to come to an end.
Delphina approaches me, but I shake my head subtly, silently signaling that I can't handle her consolation at the moment. I fear I might crumble if I let my emotions loose.
Spotting my cousin Martina, who has just arrived, I seize the opportunity to escape Mario's predatory gaze. I excuse myself and make my way to Martina near the entrance. We embrace, and tears well up in my eyes.
