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I shake my head. I ate the dinner Eve tampered with, which seems like enough risk for one night. I’m not going to survive one Furino to be poisoned by the other. “I’m here to discuss the details of our deal.”
“Yes,” he nods, sipping from his glass and then swirling it in his hand. “We did not feel particularly welcome at the funeral.”
“At the funeralyou caused?” I tilt my head to the side in mock confusion. “I can’t imagine.”
He holds up one hand in surrender and smiles. “Which is why I’m more excited than anyone to cut this deal. You already have my daughter, what else do you need?”
“Your word,” I say, knowing Benedetto’s word is worth only its weight in garbage. It doesn’t mean anything to me, but I hope it means something to him. “That you and your family will follow the deal as laid out or else face the consequences. The consequences being violent, bloody deaths.”
“You have my word if I can have yours,” he says.
We both nod at the same time and begin to discuss. The deal writes itself in only a few minutes. It is similar to many deals that have come and fallen before it. Homes and hospitals are considered havens. If anyone from either family bothers the other family at those locations, the deal is null and void. If anyone from either family murders someone from the either family, that person must be put to death by the family they belong to or the deal is null and void. If either family encroaches on the other family’s turf, the deal is null and void. On and on it goes, each of us taking turns laying out the rules, the other nodding in agreement.
Setting the guidelines is an important part of the process. Not to mention, showing my face at their hangout proves I’m not afraid of them. It shows the Furinos that I now run the show. That unless they want the wrath of the Volkov army on them, they cannot hurt me. But neither reason is why I came here to meet with Benedetto. Not really, anyway. I’m here because of Eve.
Because Eve was a pretty woman who was supposed to be nothing more than a bartering chip. So, why is it I can’t get her out of my head? Why is it she gets under my skin more than anyone else I’ve ever met? I want to ask Eve these questions, of course, but I can’t. So, I thought her father was the next best option.
“What about Eve?” I ask.
Benedetto frowns. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” I say, having no idea what I actually mean. “How does she fit into this deal?”
He swivels in his stool, one arm resting on his soft belly. “She is your fiancée. Soon to be your wife. What else do you need?”
“So, what? She is a peace offering?”
Eve’s father pouts out his lower lip, his head bobbing back and forth in thought before he shrugs. “I suppose that is a good way to describe it. She is a show of good will. My promise to you that I’ll keep my end of the bargain.”
“And you aren’t worried about her safety?” I ask.
“You can do whatever you want with Eve now,” he says casually. “She agreed to this deal knowing full well what it meant, so I can’t spend my time worrying for her.”
His words should excite me. Benedetto is admitting that his only daughter is under my control. It is a victory for the Volkovs. And yet, his callous, cold words disturb me. Are these the words of a man who loves his daughter? Eve sacrificed herself for his sake, and this is how he repays her?
“I have a tracking bracelet on her,” I say just in case this is all a trick. In case Benedetto thinks he can lull me into a false sense of security and then retrieve his daughter later. “If she leaves the property, I’ll know it.”
He nods, looking unfazed. “I figured as much. It would be silly not to be wary. Eve is a sweet girl, but very stubborn. It may take a while before you are able to break her.”
Is Benedetto telling me he wants me tobreakhis daughter?
“I don’t think I’ll have any trouble,” I say haughtily, hating the taste of my own words. “If she can make it through our wedding night, she’ll be broken enough.”
No man wants to hear about his daughter having sex, especially rough sex with a rival’s son. And yet, Benedetto doesn’t seem to mind.
“She will be your wife, which mean she will be yours to do with what you’d like,” he says, raising his glass to me. “Enjoy.”
Enjoy.
I want to breakhim. I want to snap off one of the legs of his stool and run him through with it. That’s what he deserves. But I can’t. Not if I want this deal to remain intact. Not if I want Eve.
AnddoI want Eve?
The question alone sends a flood of anger through me. I thank Benedetto for his time and excuse myself.
12
Eve
