Chapter 2 #2
“But he’s never even met me! Why on earth would he want to marry me?”
Papa leans forward, and I’ve never seen him look so serious.
“He wants the port, Trilby.” There’s a sober weight to his words.
“It’s as simple as that. If we hadn’t come to this arrangement, he would have declared war on me.
I would have lost everything—our entire livelihood.
He would’ve found a way to bring our business down. ”
“That doesn’t sound like something Gianni would do,” I say quietly.
The notorious mob boss was as morally black as they come, but he never took issue with my family despite Papa owning one of the biggest import-export businesses in New York.
I guess this was, in part, because my mother’s death gave Gianni and Papa a common enemy.
Mama and I were caught up in a misunderstanding between the Di Santos and the smaller-numbered but no less deadly Marchesi mob. I survived. Mama didn’t.
There’s a sadness in Papa’s voice. “Savero is not Gianni. They couldn’t be more different.”
I focus on breathing steadily, because it wouldn’t do to betray my true feelings to Papa—not when he too has been through so much and raised all four of us to be polite and becoming. “Can you explain?”
Papa looks at me for a long moment. “Savero is . . . passionate.”
Normally, that description would prick my ears up, but Papa’s tone suggests it’s maybe not a good thing.
“He has a temper . . .”
I can tell he’s choosing his words carefully.
“Not with women, I’m reliably assured,” he continues.
“But I hear he can be hasty in his actions. It wasn’t expected that Gianni would pass so soon.
He was coaching Savero to conduct himself like the don Gianni was.
I don’t know how much success he had before his untimely death, but what I do know is there are some nervous people in the Di Santo mob right now.
A wife—someone who can distract him a little—might be exactly what Savero needs. ”
I can only tackle one heinous point at a time, especially when I’m throwing every mental tool I have at remaining calm for Papa’s sake.
“So, I’m to marry a man who just became the boss of New York’s biggest crime family—someone who isn’t liked by his soldiers and is rumored to have a temper—not because he’s long been a secret admirer of mine, but because he wants to use our port for his own illegal gains?”
Papa’s jaw hardens. “Would you like me to spell out the alternative?”
I don’t need him to. The Di Santo family has owned New York City’s underworld for three decades.
The FBI may have clipped the wings of the big five, but all that did was make way for a sharper, cleverer kind of crime.
Crimes that come in the form of digital espionage, poll rigging, reputation manipulation, and—most lucrative of all—online gambling.
The Di Santo family now wields enough power that its soldiers can kill anyone who denies them on a whim, and the feds can’t afford to touch them with a barge pole.
If I dare to deny the don of this family, it won’t only be me impaled on the shaft of his pretty yacht; it will be every member of my family, to “set an example.”
Gianni Di Santo and Papa had an arrangement, but only because it suited Gianni. One sneaky look through Papa’s office when I wanted to fake my ID informed me a quarter of the goods that came through our port were Gianni’s, and Papa would’ve had no choice but to do as Gianni asked.
Papa watches me with a grimace of finality, and I know the time has come for me to accept my fate.
“We’re letting the Di Santos take over the port, but by cementing our alliance through marriage, it will remain in our name. Savero has agreed to let us continue running it the way we always have. No one has to lose their job. But we’ll be splitting the profits.”
“So he does nothing and still gets fifty percent of whatever our family makes . . . and me?”
Papa breathes in slowly. I can tell it’s taking some effort for him to stay calm too.
“You think I can be happy with a man like that?” I say quietly. “I won’t ever be able to respect him or love him, or even like him. I’m going to be miserable, Papa.”
I’ve only seen Papa lose his shit once, and that was when the cops brought me home and delivered the news of Mama’s murder. Once is about to become twice.
He slams a giant hand into his desk and curses so loudly I have to cover my ears.
“What choice do I have, Trilby? It’s this or we lose it all!
Do you want that for our family? It won’t just be the lack of income—it will be the shame of having to start again.
The humiliation of being cleaned out by the Di Santos.
There’ll be no more college for Tess and Bambi, no more hospitality school for Serafina.
We’ll have to sell this place, lay off our staff. Is that what you want?”
“N-no,” I stammer. “Of course not.”
He stands and towers over his desk. Papa has never laid a finger on any of us, but the thought of it alone has always been enough to keep us in line.
“I suppose I am the eldest,” I mutter. And a virgin, of course.
“It isn’t just that.” Papa sets both palms on the desk and leans over it toward me. “Your sisters, they’re not as . . . resilient as you.”
I swallow. That simply isn’t true anymore, but my family refuses to acknowledge it or even see it.
“With my connections, I half-expected each of you to marry a made man, but of the four, you’re the only one who can handle a don. Especially a don like Savero Di Santo.” Papa sighs and sits back in his chair. “You might even be a good influence on him.”
I swallow the urge to disagree.
“In fact, I’m counting on you to be.” Papa levels me with a stare. “Savero needs to be kept under some semblance of control, otherwise I genuinely fear for the people of New York.”
My heart stops thundering and limps along quietly instead, as if its very existence has been thwarted.
“I know it’s a lot to take in. Go rest up. Tomorrow you’ll be introduced.”
A little more blood drains from my face. “Tomorrow?”
“After the funeral.”
“But . . . we’re not going to the funeral.”
The church chosen for the ceremony is too small to accommodate all of Gianni’s family, capos, soldiers, and associates, so anyone not directly connected to the mob has been relegated to watching the procession from the streets.
“We are now,” Papa says with the air of someone who’s finally made it but is finding it’s not quite as he expected. “We’ll be seated inside the church along with Gianni’s capos and their families. It’s a huge privilege.”
The weight of responsibility takes ahold of my chest. “I have one more question.”
“Go on.”
I look up at Papa through heavy lashes. “What exactly makes you think I can do this?”
He sighs and shifts in his chair, then he really looks at me.
“Before your mama died, you had such a strong spirit. You were never badly behaved, but you were bold and fearless and resilient. After she died, well . . . you tucked yourself away. You became a smaller version of yourself in front of my very eyes.” He leans forward and rests his forearms on the desk between us.
“I want to see that brave, bold girl again. I know she’s in there, Trilby, but me, Alli, and your sisters .
. . we haven’t been able to draw her out.
I want you to live a big life, my love. Maybe someone like Savero is just what you need. ”
My throat feels like cardboard when I swallow, so I simply nod and stand on shaky legs. My voice is but a whisper when I reply.
“Of course, Papa. I won’t let you down.”