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My uncle rolls his eyes. “You’re too sweet, Chris. And too kind to that bastard of a man that isn’t your stepfather anymore.”
Niccolo returns to pacing the floor, never taking his eyes off my uncle.
“Noted.” I cross my arms over my chest self-consciously. “Why are you here?” I know they want to squash the rumors they’re hearing, but how do they plan to do that?
With an exaggerated stretch, Giovanni’s relaxed facade dissipates, replaced by a look of unease. “Your grandfather has arranged for you to marry.”
My body grows cold, and the room starts to darken. I reach out for something to stabilize me and find Niccolo’s hand. He whispers in my ear, but his words are drowned out by the sound of waves churning in an invisible sea.
Time seems to stand still as I struggle to regain my composure. Someone snaps their fingers in front of my face, drawing my attention. It’s Giovanni, standing before me, engaged in a petty argument with Niccolo. They bicker like children, their dispute drowning out my own thoughts.
“No,” I mumble, my voice building in strength as I push away from Niccolo and Giovanni. “Stop. No.” Determination fills my expression as I stand my ground. “I’m not ready.”
My uncle straightens his back, drawing up to his full height. “If you can to fuck around with your stepfather, you can marry a Castiglione.”
In a daze, I try to step back, only to find myself colliding with the couch. “I can’t. I won’t,” I assert, forcing a look of defiance onto my face. “You can’t make me marry anyone, Uncle.”
A mask of rage twists Giovanni’s features as he takes a step forward. Before I can react, his arm swiftly rises, delivering a brutal backhand across my face. The force of the blow snaps my head back, sending a searing pain radiating through my skull. “That’s where you’re wrong, Christine. I am in charge of this family, and you are obligated to listen to your elders when they know what’s best for you.”
Tears burn the back of my eyes, but I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing me cry. Niccolo’s hand finds my lower back, the other gently brushing my swollen cheek. “Are you okay?”
Giovanni snaps his fingers, and a second later, Marco is pulling Niccolo away from me. “Hold him for me, Marc,” Gio orders.
He steps forward and grabs me by the chin. His fingers digging into my newly bruised cheek cause me to wince; his icy glare as he looks me in the eye sends chills down my spine. “You made your bed, and now you have to lie in the filthy sheets. You will marry Rocco Castiglione this summer. It will be a joyous occasion for the Lucatellos. It will forge a new alliance between our families. And when Fausto Terlizzi dies,” he looks back tosmirk at Niccolo, “the Castigliones will look to our family to find a replacement Consigliere.”
“You keep my father’s name out of your fucking mouth, Lucatello.” Niccolo is foaming with rage. If Marco hadn’t caught him off guard, Nic would be ripping Giovanni apart.
My uncle shoves me away from him, his fingers momentarily digging into my bruised flesh. “You only have yourself to blame for this, Nic. If you had let Chris come with me after Caterina died, you wouldn’t have thought you could get away with fucking someone who doesn’t belong to you. Now the Lucatello family has to marry her off to an enforcer with a notorious history of abusing his wives. Yes,wives,” Giovanni emphasizes with a cruel sneer. “The first two died at his hands when they tried to escape. The third took her own life. So, if you know what’s good for you,” he glares at me, “you’ll be a compliant little wife to Rocco.”
Niccolo elbows Marco in the gut, but the larger man merely grunts and tightens his grip. “You would willingly marry off your niece to a known wife killer?”
Giovanni locks eyes with me, ensuring that I understand what he’s about to say. “I would kill Christine with my bare hands before I let her continue tarnishing the family name with the likes ofyou, Terlizzi.”
My breath catches in my throat, fear seizing my vocal cords. I can’t say another word, but I flee from the room. I wrap my hand around the handle of the front door and run until I can’t see my home anymore. But even though it’s out of sight, I still hide behind a bush as I pull out my phone to call my best friend. “Kaye, I need you to pick me up. Something bad happened.”
Throughout the drive to Manhattan, Kaye remains on the line, her voice a steady anchor in the storm of chaos and confusion. She provides me solace and a sense of safety amidst the turmoil.
In this world of constant change, Kaye is my one unwavering constant. There is no one I trust more than her to guide me through this darkness.
Chapter 25
Niccolo
Christine runs from the room before I can stop her. When we hear the front door open, Giovanni laughs. “She’s a sweet girl, but she’s like her mother,” he says with a roll of his eyes. “She stole that Irish prick from Francesca and then had to be forced down the aisle.”
Caterina never told me much about her first marriage, but we’ve all heard the rumors. Francesca Lucatello was to marry Liam Byrne, the son of a prominent Irish gangster. My father called the Lucatellos foolish for wanting to strengthen their family by marrying outside of Italian tradition. In the end, Caterina seduced Liam the night before his wedding and the two of them ran off together. Their affair ended with a shotgun wedding, and everyone who was there remembers Caterina crying as she made her vows. Ten years later, he disappeared without a trace, never to be heard from again.
“Let him go,” Giovanni thrusts his chin in my direction, ordering his brother around. Marco releases me a second later.
I pull my arms back in front of me, mumbling under my breath about their brutish behavior.
“Shut up,” Giovanni barks dismissively. He strides over to the bar stationed in the corner of the opulent living room, pouring himself a generous measure of Scotch. The liquid cascades into the glass, its amber hue gleaming under the soft glow of the early morning lighting. “This is all your fault anyway,” he asserts, a tinge of bitterness coloring his voice. “Word has it that you were seen with her at some college dance club a few weeks ago.”
A jolt of panic grips my chest. Fuck. The night at Red Dawg. I thought we were safe because I didn’t recognize anyone. “Are you following her or me?” I ask, suddenly feeling paranoid.
Marco imitates his brother’s actions by grabbing himself a drink as well. Giovanni observes him with casual interest. “Wrong question, Nic. I shouldn’t have to haveeitherof you followed.”
One of these days, Giovanni is going to mouth off to the wrong person and wind up getting himself killed. I pray to God I’m in the room when it happens. “Sowhyare you having us followed then?”
