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“You know the deal, Emerson. You want to be the next don? Then you will marry and produce an heir for this family and this empire before I step down. Or you could do what I did and kill your father.” His words tempt me, but I don’t easily fall victim to such things. I know my father better than most.
“The longer I’m around you, the more option two sounds like the better choice.” I flash him a half smile and move my left leg so my ankle rests on my knee as I languidly lean back in the chair.
“Always so dramatic. Don’t worry, I’ve found you a new bride already. This one is a much better option, if I may say so myself. She comes from a pure Italian bloodline. She’s pretty, and her uncle has promised me she’s untouched.” His tongue runs across his bottom lip at the last part, and I shudder.
“And she’s agreed to marry a stranger, or does she also have no choice?”
“Her parents died when she was ten. Tobin took her in when no one else would and raised her. She owes him, and now it’s time to pay her debt.” He picks up his glass and sips his whiskey. “Just as you must pay yours.”
“Lucky girl,” I rub my hand down my face, feeling the stubble from my unkempt mustache. My father hates scruff, favoring the clean-shaven look, which is why I keep it. Just another way to remind him he may control others, but he does not control me.
“She’s a Caputo, so this is a good move for us. Tobin has a lot of sway with the governor and the local law enforcement. She just turned twenty-one, so we’ve gone ahead and scheduled the wedding. You’re to be at St. Colettes on June twenty-second at noon.” He gets up from his chair and moves around his desk to stand in front of me.
“Congrats, son. Get your affairs in order and be ready to cut things off with the DeLuca boy. It’s time you stepped up and stopped playing childish games.” He claps me on the back, and I shrug my shoulders away from him.
God dammit. This is a nightmare. I couldn't ignore the fact that he deliberately excluded her first name and a picture of her. I’m sure she’s boring looking and used to being spoiled rotten by her uncle, and now she’s jumping at the chance to marry into power and money.
The whole interaction has left a sour taste in my mouth. I feel a weight settle in my chest, knowing that I have to go back to the room and tell Alistair the news.
CHAPTER 2
SCARLETT
“Scarlett! Get your ass down here now,” my uncle Tobin hollers from downstairs.
I roll my eyes on instinct and sigh. “I’m coming!” I shout as I finish setting the powder under my eyes. Lord knows if I come out of my room not fully done up, he will punish me. That lesson was learned the hard way. I set down my beauty blender, trying to shake off the thoughts. Haphazardly, I braid my dark blonde hair, twisting it up into a messy updo. I grab my mauve lipstick and slide it over my full lips, smacking them together to set it perfectly.
Once I’ve finished my face and hair, I stand up from my vanity chair and head to the closet to grab today’s costume. I’ve come to think of the outfits my uncle forces me to wear as costumes, and honestly that’s what they are to me. Nothing I own is my style. Everything is curated to match the person my uncle projects onto his allies, his enemies.
Finding a black Gucci dress, I slide it on and struggle with zipping up the back. I’ll be damned if I ask anyone for assistance though. The last time I made that mistake, I was groped by the help. I’d rather die than ask Tobin for help, he’d make me earn it in some miserable way.
Sometimes I hate my parents for dying and leaving me here with him. My mother and he weren’t close, so the fact they didn’t have a will to make sure I didn’t end up under his thumb shocks me.
They died when I was ten, and I can still remember my mother talking to my dad about how awful Tobin was and how she was glad my dad was nothing like him.
Jokes on me though, since I ended up with him as my guardian for the last eleven years. Eleven torturous years, filled with prep schools, debutante classes, and never being able to be my true self. For the better part of my life, I’ve been beaten down, verbally and physically, and never allowed to have any friends.
If I was ever caught talking to a male I wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. Not even for school projects, if they partnered me with a boy, Tobin would call and raise hell until the end result was having to do the project alone. It’s been a lonely eleven years.
Slipping my feet into my Louboutins, I close my eyes and slowly exhale. You’re almost done, Scarlett. He agreed to let you go to college. Carrington College accepted you and next month, you can finally move in.
I bartered with him that if I maintained a four-point GPA all four years of high school and helped Marie with her maid duties daily, I could go to college when I came into my inheritance. I worked my ass off at home and school to meet my end of the bargain. He called and made sure I was in an all-girls dorm but I don’t care as long as I’m free.
I glide down the stairs with my hand on the railing like I’m Cinderella, toward my awaiting future. Stepping off the bottom step, I slowly walk to meet my uncle in his study. Tobin is standing by the window with a bottle of sparkling water in hand as he looks out the window.
“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he seethes, not bothering to even look at me.
“Sorry, I was getting ready. It won’t happen again.” I dip my head and look at the floor.
“No matter, you’ll no longer be my problem soon enough.” He steps around his desk and comes to stand in front of me, leaning back casually.
I flash him a quick smile and nod. “Yes. Thank you for letting me go to Carrington.”
“Carrington?” he laughs. “Shit, I forgot about that pipe dream. No, Scarlett, I have canceled your college plans. I have found something more worth my time for you to do.”
My throat constricts at his words. No! He can’t do this. I’ve been counting on this being my escape. To be able to get a degree I can use and to leave him behind, starting a life of my own without him. Finally I’d be free.
“You can’t do that!” I stomp my heel like a toddler throwing a fit as tears well in my eyes, blurring my vision. True to their sturdiness, the Louboutins don’t even crack from the weight, which is a feat considering my anger.
