Chapter 5
Willow
“What’s wrong? What happened? Why are you crying?” Orlando asks.
He leads us up the steep incline, as his long legs are much faster than mine, but he continually glances back, worried. He doesn’t need to know what happened. It’s better if no one does.
“What does Papa want?” I ask.
“Massimo De Luca stopped by our house after the engagement party.”
My calves and thighs burn, and I push into the familiar heat. No one climbs this path without paying the price.
Orlando jabbers on, but I shudder. I feel that man’s pudgy hands. On my arm, gripping my throat. Over my lips, pressed hard against my nostrils. The bridge of my nose is sore. And my breasts. He grabbed them like they were toys. He said he came looking for me. Why?
“Mamma and Papa want to talk with you in the morning, but you can’t. There are better men.” I meet Orlando’s dark brown eyes, nearly black in the moonlight, and there’s something new there. The expression he’s wearing adds years. He’s shedding his youth. “Why were you with the American?”
“You know that man?”
“He’s an arms dealer.”
An arms dealer. I shudder. Saved from a monster by a monster.
“I don’t know him. He…” Orlando is too young. If I tell him what happened, he’ll get himself in trouble tomorrow, playing protective brother. “He saw me walking on the beach and wanted to be sure I got home safely.”
“Willow…” Orlando’s serious tone tears at my frayed nerves. He’s never serious. “Massimo De Luca inquired about you.”
“He’s married.” I spit the words.
“His brother…that old man who approached you at the engagement party. He’s the one. It’s sick. He’s like old enough to be your grandfather.”
“Papa said no.” My heart ricochets. “Right?”
“I don’t believe Leandro asked for your hand. But Papa was pissed you weren’t around for him to introduce to the capo. He had me search everywhere for you, and when I couldn’t find you, Massimo asked about your plans, and Papa dismissed me.”
“You don’t think…” Tendrils of fear climb my veins.
Was that why Leandro found me on the beach? To take possession early? He certainly didn’t act like a man wooing a woman. But then again, I slapped him. He bent to kiss me, and I slapped him. And then it’s all a blur.
“Did something happen to you?” His finger dabs my collarbone, and I shove it away.
“How long ago did Massimo leave? Did Papa say anything else?”
“Why were you crying?”
I grip my brother’s bony shoulders and shake him. “What did Papa say?”
“Nothing has been agreed to, I don’t think. Tomorrow, they want you to meet?—”
“No.” I break away, shaking my head.
“Papa can’t say no to the capo.”
“I’ll run away. I’ll pack a bag and go…” I have friends from university.
“No one leaves.” Orlando’s only saying what I know too well to be true. If I go to one of my friends, I endanger them.
“The American. You really don’t know him?”
“What? No. Why?” I pace, attempting to quell the rising panic. There must be something I can do. Leandro De Luca has had four wives, and two of them committed suicide. After my run-in with him…the way he pawed me. Like I was an object. I just can’t.
“Maybe you could strike a deal.”
He’s gone mad. “With who? Our father? What kind of deal could I possibly strike with him?”
“Not with Papa. With the American. His name is Leo Sullivan.”
“The arms dealer? Orlando! This is not a game!”
“I know. I know. Just hear me out.”
I have to find a way out of here. That’s what I have to do.
“He’s a good guy. At least, from what I’ve observed. I think he’s gay, but…” I remember his punches, the glare. He stood up to Leandro De Luca with no hint of fear. “It’s not like I have a problem with that,” Orlando adds. “Not sure all the men feel the same way. Maybe that’s why he hides it.”
“What makes you think he’s gay?” And what does this have to do with me?
“He never partakes with the ladies. I overheard a man talking about it today.”
I clutch a chunk of my hair and tug, pulling until my scalp hurts. “Why are you talking about him, Orlando?”
“He lives in London. Doesn’t drink or do drugs. He works closely with Nick Ivanov. In the syndicate. He’s higher up than the De Lucas. Papa would benefit more from having you marry him than a De Luca.”
“Are you out of your mind?” He’s deranged.
Trade one devil for another. Orlando’s lost his mind. Fuck all of that. This is the twenty-first century.
Papa wouldn’t marry me to a man like Leandro. He wouldn’t. And Massimo might be capo, but my father is a respected business leader.
“Willow. Willow!” Orlando blocks my path. “Listen to me. You could do each other favors. He could have a wife, so no one would question why he’s never with women, and you could avoid a union with Leandro.”
I blink. Breathe. Curl my fingers into my palms so hard the nails dig into the flesh. “Orlando. It’s the twenty-first century. No one cares if he’s gay.”
“Think about it, Willow. He’s an arms dealer. He deals with people in parts of the world where homosexuality is punishable by death. Listen to me. I know you think I’m too young to be taken seriously, but this is a good idea. It’s way better than you running away, because there’s nowhere you can go that they won’t find you.”
The man who threw punches scared me too. And I hadn’t even known he was an arms dealer. But he had been patient with me. Kept his distance as I pulled myself together. He wore strange shoes.
“Orlando—”
“Willow.”
“Papa wouldn’t.”
Orlando’s sad eyes gut me. “Willow, he can’t say no.”
“Willow, where have you been?”
Mamma and Papa sit on the sofa, dressed in silk pajamas, the television frozen.
The frozen screen tells me everything. They’ve been up watching television, waiting for my return. Upon hearing us enter, Papa hit pause.
“I walked home along the beach.”
“Willow, you are no longer a young girl. We expected you to spend the evening with us. Your absence was noticed and did not reflect well.”
“You were at the event long enough to gain the interest of a prominent gentleman,” Papa says, seemingly dismissing Mamma’s reprimand with the worst insinuation.
Tears well in my eyes. “Papa.” I want to sound strong, but my weak voice comes out like a plea.
“You brought this on yourself. You refuse to meet any of the men we recommend,” he says.
“Papa, you don’t need to do this. You don’t need?—”
“He’s my capo.” On the sofa, with his blue eyes veiled behind spectacles, his age shows. “We have sheltered you, but you are not ignorant. If you had been more amenable to the other men we found for you?—”
“Papa!”
He hardens.
I still under his glare. I shouldn’t have raised my voice.
His fingers clutch the armrest on the sofa so hard the nail beds whiten.
“We spoiled you. We gave you too much.”
“Two of his wives committed suicide.”
“Nonsense. Legends spread to instill fear. There’s no truth to them. Tomorrow afternoon, we’re hosting?—”
“No.” I capture Mamma’s gaze and plead with my eyes. She can’t. She knows what happens to women who marry men like Leandro. “Please?—”
“ Tesoro mio …” Papa’s voice trails. He pushes off the sofa, and that’s it. He’s standing. It’s done. “Massimo believes you could be good for his brother. You will calm him. Give him what he needs at home. His children are older, and they wouldn’t be much work for you. He hires a full staff. You can still paint. You would want for nothing. He’s second in line for capo. It’s a good match.”
Mamma’s gaze drops to the ground, refusing to meet mine.
This is what Scarlet endured. Her mother, my mother’s sister, forced her to marry a good match. She went through hell. She’d still be in hell if she hadn’t killed Vincent, and now she’s a pariah. So-called legend paints her as the monster.
I won’t. There’s no way.
“We’re in the middle of a show. Why don’t you get some rest, and in the morning, your mother and you can go shopping? You can buy something new. Shoes, handbag, jewelry, whatever your heart desires. We’re breaking from the weekend’s festivities and hosting Massimo’s family on the piazza. Only for an hour or so, but you should look your best.”