Chapter 2
Madelene
I draw in a deep breath, knowing that it’s early in the morning without even having to pull back the curtains in my room.
I avoid looking outside as much as possible. I know the bars on the window should no longer bother me. It’s not like I’d leave this place.
My ties, the things that keep me in this room, in this house, despite hating every person who roams the halls, aren’t chains. I’m not held captive here by restraints or even verbal threats of harm.
I’m imprisoned instead by loyalty, with a vow spoken by someone else.
I’m promised to a man who I hate with a passion, but I know better than to run.
My father, another man I’m not sure I love any longer, gave me to Alessio Severino, heir to the Severino family, the largest crime syndicate in Chicago with ties to old Italy, New York, Boston, with whispers of expanding further south.
I chose this life no more than my father did. Growing accustomed to the life I have to live has been a slow process, something I fight internally daily, but would never have the courage to speak out against.
I’m not shocked when the rattle at my door turns into it swinging open rather than a knock and a request to enter.
I frown at Marcello as he walks inside, as if he owns the place. Despite being the second-born son to Mafia leader, Lucian Severino, he acts as though he’s the one set to inherit all that surrounds us.
I watch his face, wondering which side of the man I’m going to get today, considering that he may just be the one to rule it all. It would mean killing his father and older brother, but from the soulless look in his dark brown eyes, it isn’t much of a stretch.
The Severinos are known for their brutality, especially this newest generation. Lucian is fair for the most part, yet unafraid to mete out what he considers justice to those deserving. Alessio and Marcello, however, are a different breed. They feed on the blood and brutality.
“Did you need something?” I ask, trying my best to hide the irritation in my voice.
Marcello loves nothing more than a challenge, and if he feels like I’m overstepping, he’ll find a way to quickly put me back in my place.
His eyes take a long time to find mine, and I look away immediately when they do. The man makes cold chills run down my arms and legs despite the warmth of the blanket still covering my lower half.
He doesn’t speak as his eyes skate down my body. I’m wearing a t-shirt and have my blanket pulled up around my waist, but the way he watches me makes me feel completely naked.
I’m scared of him, and I was long before our families’ connection was solidified by my father’s mistake and subsequent vow.
We were in the same class in school, and he always had this malevolent air to him. I avoided him at all costs, and now the man has unfettered access to my room and life. It’s terrifying.
He shouldn’t touch me. He shouldn’t think he has a right to threaten me, yet here I sit, shaking, wondering what he’s going to do to me today.
Alessio would literally slit the throat of anyone who so much as darted their eyes in my direction, but his little brother isn’t concerned about the chance of that happening.
He’s Alessio’s blood, and to the family, that means everything.
I’m an offering, a reward, my inheritance more the gift than me.
Alessio might be angry, but Marcello would never suffer the same fate as one of their men.
It’s why the younger Severino has had no problems doing what he’s done, making me do what he wants.
Their family connection is also what keeps me silent.
The threat of trying to come between the two of them is a terrifying warning to keep my mouth shut.
I’ve seen what happens to someone who speaks out against Marcello.
It took weeks for the last guy to float back to the surface of Lake Michigan. I know better by example.
“You look sad this morning, caged little bird,” Marcello says, his voice sinister rather than concerned.
“I’m fine,” I tell him, wondering if he will read it as a challenge.
His smile is soft, something I’ve learned not to be fooled by.
Marcello is twenty-one, the same age as me, and females have been obsessed with him since grade school. Something I had to witness on numerous occasions. Not much has changed since our transition into adulthood.
I’ve seen the women respond to both Marcello and Alessio.
Their smiles are radiant, their dark eyes bringing a sort of mystery that fools women into thinking they’re the type of men they want to get to know better.
They wear masks in public, charming enough to draw nearly anyone in.
I’ve seen how quickly those masks change, how skilled they are at luring in prey.
Women practically fall over themselves for the opportunity to be in their atmosphere.
They have no idea the danger they’re in when all they want is the protection of the family.
Those women’s smiles have turned to screams of terror, eyes filled with shock as they’re hurt.
Alessio and Marcello pick and choose. One week, I could be forced to witness them fucking some girl, having to listen to her beg for more, harder, faster.
The next, it’s very possible I’ll bear witness to her screaming for her life.
The silence that comes not long after the cry for help is the hardest for me.
It’s when their eyes turn from victory at scoring a Severino for the night to terror at realizing what’s going to happen that haunts my dreams.
“We’re going on a trip,” he says.
“I’ll wait anxiously for your return.” I know the man doesn’t actually believe that I miss him when Alessio and he leave town, but it’s what he wants to hear. Not saying it would be just one more challenge I’ll have to survive.
“Miss me?” He chuckles, and I hate the humorless sound. “You’re coming with us.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I’ve become a professional at keeping those emotions at bay. The man in front of me loves nothing more than my tears.
He inches closer, the fronts of his thighs touching the footboard of my bed.
My vulnerability is apparent, and despite Marcello never taking liberties that far, I know it will happen one day. I know my virginity is still intact because it’s one more threat he has over me rather than it being promised to his brother on our wedding night.
“Wh-Where are we going?” I smile at him, hoping he doesn’t focus on my stammer.
The trips away from Chicago are the worst. It’s as if the distance the younger Severino put between them and their father makes them wilder, crazier, and more likely to take risks.
His gaze runs up my blanket-covered legs, pausing on my chest before lifting all the way to my eyes.
“Mexico,” he says, and I know better than to argue.
I know why they’re heading that far south. I know their father will not be happy when he finds out about their trip. I also know better than to open my mouth and remind him of any of it.
I hate my father a little more right now, as I do every time I’m forced to travel with them. I have no idea how long we’ll be gone, but the longer it is, the worse it is for me. It gives time for bruises to heal.
I swallow as I nod. “Will we have a chance to go to the beach?”
He shrugs. “Maybe. I’ll talk to Alessio about it. You know he likes to make his bride-to-be happy.”
His lip twitches with the reference. He’s always been bitter about my betrothal to Alessio. It’s not that the man in front of me wants me, he just wants what he was promised. I could be anyone, and his hatred for not being promised would still be just as strong.
The second part of his words is the fact that Alessio doesn’t give a shit about my past being a promised possession. He doesn’t love me or have any concern for me past protecting me for the investment that I am.
“I’ll pack a bathing suit just in case,” I tell him, knowing full well we’ll never see the beach.
We could be in a five-star hotel overlooking the sand and surf, and they’ll keep me in the room with the curtains pulled back just to torture me.
I’ve never done anything to make them hate me. I’m compliant, doing everything they tell me to do, which I know will happen more than once just by the look in Marcello’s eyes as he licks his lips.
“I bet we can get some time away while Alessio takes care of business. Bring the red bikini.”
A shiver of terror and disgust races down my spine as he walks away.
Marcello and Alessio haven’t put me on my back the way I’ve seen them do with countless women, but that doesn’t mean they haven’t both forced my head into their laps.
Alessio, of course, doesn’t know what his brother gets up to with me while he’s working.
I’m not foolish enough to tell him. Marcello likes to use it as a threat where I’m concerned, knowing I’ll be the one punished if the older Severino ever finds out.
I swallow down the bile threatening its way up my throat, only climbing out of bed to shower and dress after the door closes fully.
I think of Elio, wanting to curse him but knowing better than thinking of the dead in an ill way.
My brother, Elio, only ten months older than me, died years ago in a car accident less than a year after he was forced to prove his loyalty to the Severino family.
I guess I should be grateful that he is unaware of the deal our father made with Lucian Severino after being caught smuggling merchandise from one of the warehouses he was responsible for running for the family.
Instead of ending up in Lake Michigan, a deal was struck, and although it involved my entire life, I wasn’t given a choice. My father was too much of a coward to choose death, but had I been given the option, I think I would’ve chosen differently.
Thinking of Elio makes me miss my mother. I blame my brother’s carelessness for her death. Dying of a broken heart at his loss was a year-long illness, but she’s in a much better place, despite me knowing she’d never stand up against the Severino family any more than I have.
Instead of thinking of the past I can’t change, I consider what traveling to Mexico means.
Although Lucian Severino is quick to hand out punishment to men that betray him, he stops short of making an example of his sons.
They know this. It’s why they’ll go to Mexico and make deals with the various cartels in order to feed their business with drug money despite their dad being adamantly against it.
The boys think their father is too old-school, that he isn’t willing to change with the times, and that includes getting involved in drugs because the whorehouse and guns aren’t enough to keep them relevant.
They’ve always been the type to ask their father for forgiveness rather than permission, but I know for a fact this is something Lucian has specifically told them not to do. The fallout from this could be terrible, and when their father punishes them, it increases the likelihood they’ll punish me.
Instead of thinking about what might happen, I let myself drift off to a fantasy land, one where I’m not vowed to a thirty-four-year-old man. One where I won’t be walking down the aisle at the young age of twenty-two.
These fantasies tangle with reality even in my head, cutting my shower short because I know the trouble I’ll be in if I make any of them wait.