Dario DeLuca: Savage Bloodline

4. Mia

FOUR

The crystal chandeliercasts fractured light across the marble floor, a glittering echo of the fracturing within my family”s foundation. It’s been a day since my father dropped the unthinkable on me.

Marriage?

Who does he think he is?

I stand frozen like a statue in the foyer, my gaze locked with my father”s. His silhouette rigid against the mahogany door is an immovable force. I’ve seen this stance before, and it reeks of the power he wields in city boardrooms.

”Enough,” his voice slices through the tension.

My mother hovers by the window, her presence merely a whisper. She wrings her hands, the only sign of her unrest.

”Tell me it isn”t true,” I say, my words a blade pointed at the man who stands before me, a man I once believed unshakeable. ”Tell me I didn’t hear what I thought I heard.”

His eyes—so much like mine—hold a cold fire. He doesn”t answer. He just lets the silence fester like an open wound.

I can”t relent. Not now. My palms feel slick against the fabric of my jeans. ”You can”t just decide my future, Dad. Not like this.”

”Your safety is not up for discussion, Mia.” His tone is granite, his stance as unyielding as the city skylines.

My heart hammers, its tempo erratic. ”How can you just dismiss this?” I”m standing now, too, my hands flat on the table, leaning towards him. ”You”re forcing me into something dangerous.”

The air is tense, an invisible barrier neither love nor logic can dismantle.

”Marriage isn”t danger.” His face is a mask, but there”s a tremor in his denial, a hairline fracture in his facade.

I search for softness in his eyes but find only the reflection of a man burdened by secrets. With each thudding heartbeat, I gather my courage. ”Are you so entangled in dubious dealings that you”d pawn off your only daughter?”

”Entangled?” His eyebrow arches, a subtle lift betraying his surprise.

”Blackmail,” I press on. The word tastes bitter. ”It reeks of desperation, or worse, manipulation.”

”Those pictures,” he starts, the words heavy, ”they came with a threat. To us. To you.”

“Then let me see the pictures.” It”s not a request but a demand, my voice a blade cutting through the tension. The weight of his silence is leaden, but his admission falls like a guillotine when he finally speaks.

”I gave them to Dario.”

”See?” The word escapes me before I can cage it, raw and accusing. ”That”s what I”m saying. For all we know, he orchestrated the whole thing.”

My fingers curl into fists, the tips of my nails pressing crescent moons into my palms.

”Believe what you want, Mia, but this is to keep you safe.” He reaches out, but I step back, refusing the touch and the false promise it carries.

”Safe? Or controlled?” There’s no hiding the scorn in my voice.

”I said enough!” He sits, his command a slap, sharp and resounding.

His gaze pierces me, but behind the mask, I see the flicker of doubt, the weariness of a man cornered by his own decisions.

”Everything I do is for this family,” he says, but the words sound hollow, a mantra repeated too many times to hold meaning still.

”Even if it means losing me?” My question lingers, unanswered.

”Mia, that’s all I will hear about this,” the finality in his voice is a door slamming shut.

“Marcus,” Mom’s voice cuts through, gentle as a whisper yet firm enough to command the room. Her hand extends towards me like an olive branch, but her eyes, mirrors of mine, betray the worry creasing her brow.

”Darling, you must understand your father is trying to protect us,” she begins, but I can”t help the scoff that interrupts her.

”By marrying me off to a man who”s as much a stranger as he is rumored to be mob?” I spit out.

”Your assumptions about Dario are misguided.” He shifts, the brush of his suit jacket against his shirt whispering secrets.

”But am I wrong?” The question hangs suspended. ”To what end? What could possibly be gained from binding me to him?”

My father stands again, his presence towering over us, and in that moment, he embodies the very institutions he represents—overbearing and impenetrable. ”Mia, you have to trust me on this. I”ve made decisions based on scenarios you are not privy to.”

”‘Privy to’?” A bitter laugh escapes me, tinged with incredulity. ”That”s just it. I”m never privy to anything until it”s done to me, decided for me.”

I lock eyes with him, searching for a flicker of remorse, a sign of hesitation. But there is none.

”All right, Mia,” my mother chimes in, her hands clasping mine. The cool touch is a feeble attempt to calm my emotions. Our world has rules, ones we can”t always bend to our will. Sometimes, we must endure, adapt, and survive.”

”Endure?” I pull away from her grasp, the furnishings of our home now mocking me with their gilded edges. ”No. What I hear is surrender. And I didn”t raise my voice all these years to bow down when it matters most.”

He walks over to where I stand, with words longing to fall from his lips. ”Would I put you in harm”s way?” he asks, a note of pleading beneath the resolve.

”Would you even know if you were?” I challenge.

His silence is damning, and the distance between us grows. I turn away, leaving the chill of the foyer for the comfort of my bed—the one staple in this house I can claim as my safe space. At least it is for now.

My heels click against the hardwood in a staccato rhythm that echoes the pounding in my chest. Entering my room, I grab my Spinnanight bag from my closet and toss things inside it.

One thing is for sure: I cannot stay here with my father. If I go to my studio, they’ll find me, and I know they’ll track me down at Gabrielle’s, too. At this point, I don’t care. I need to escape from here.

The exhaustion of the fight with my parents is weighing on me. I collapse on my bed, pick up my lifeline, and dial Gabrielle with fingers that betray a tremble.

”So she is alive,” Gabby teases without greeting me. ”I’ve only called you about twenty-five times about the center”s opening.”

”Can I come over?” I ask, but it’s more of a plea that hangs in the balance as I fight to keep from breaking.

“Of course you can. I have no plans, and you have a key. You never have to ask, you know that,” she responds without hesitation, her loyalty never-ending.

“I’ll be there in ten.”

“What’s wrong?”

I take a deep breath and let the words spill out. “My dad made a deal with the devil.”

“Mia, I’m gonna need a little more detail. He’s a politician, and they make deals all the time.”

”My dad wants me married off,” I say, the words tasting like poison on my tongue.

”Marry you off? To whom?”

”Dario DeLuca of all people. It”s all been arranged.”

”Fuck, Mia.” Compassion softens her tone. ”But why?”

I think carefully about what my father said and decide not to freak out my best friend regarding any potential threat until I find out the truth. “Who fucking knows. It has to be a political stunt since he’s running for city council.”

“You don’t even know this guy.”

“I know. One minute, I meet him at the launch of his campaign, and the next, I’m supposed to be his bride. Like seriously, are we back in the forties?”

“Did he pay a dowry?” She giggles.

“No. I think it’s something else, but I have no proof, and my dad is adamant that this is what’s best.”

“Maybe he just needs you as a figurehead. Like a fake marriage type thing.”

“Could be. All I know is that I’m not going through with this, fake or not.”

“What are you going to do?”

”Run. I can”t marry him, Gabby. I can”t bind myself to a man I don’t know and certainly not one with whispers of violence surrounding him.”

“I thought the mafia rumors were debunked,” she adds.

I scoff. “They were, but after this shit…This is something straight out of one of those dark romances you had me reading. And in those books, they are always in the mob.”

Gabby laughs. “True, but this is real life.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t about to be my life.”

“How do you plan on getting out of this?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

”I don’t know, to be honest. Help me think, Gabby. He”s clever, obviously. I mean, he launched a campaign in a matter of days and somehow managed to scare the strongest man I know into this foolish scheme. But there must be a weakness, a chink in his armor.” My voice is steady now, the tremor replaced by a cold determination. ”I”ll use our resources to get it. I have followers on the blog, and surely someone knows about his family in this city. I’ll uncover every dirty secret that led to this so-called arrangement.”

The pieces begin to align in my mind, a strategy forming from chaos.

”Be careful, Mia. If he”s who they say he is...” Gabrielle says, her concern evident in her voice.

”Always am,” I murmur. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, and we can talk more then.”

“Okay, see you soon.”

The line falls silent, and I finish packing my things. After grabbing my phone charger and toiletries, I change into sneakers and start my journey.

Along the way, I can hear my parents in the office still arguing over this sham of a marriage. It pains me to listen to their voices raised. Never in my life have I ever known them to argue, but I must leave.

I refuse to be a pawn in their games. From now on, I’m no longer the dutiful daughter silenced and bartered for.