14. Carmen
Chapter 14
Carmen
I t’s my own fault.
I shouldn’t have let myself become so comfortable with him. I shouldn’t have let myself delude myself into thinking he was a decent person.
I want to hit something. Instead, I stomp harder into the gravel beneath my feet as I make my way back up the garden path.
The afternoon light casts long golden streaks across the overgrown hedges. The scent of rosemary and warm earth lingers in the air, mingling with the faint sweetness of roses that cling stubbornly to their trellises.
It shouldn’t be soothing. I should be on my guard at all times, considering that I’m still Dante’s prisoner. But it’s hard to think like that when the gentle wind plays with my curls, bringing with it the warm caress of the day-baked air.
It’s been days since Rocco’s visit. Days that I’ve spent pointedly avoiding the Grasso heir.
If I thought about it too hard, I could see I’m being childish. Because really, what else did I expect?
It’s my own fault for assuming we’d fallen into some kind of flirtatious truce these last few weeks. It’s my own fault for thinking Dante might look at me, even if it was purely due to physical attraction, as an equal.
I kick a stubborn rock to the side of the path as I step into the evening shadow of the Iron Castle. The castle looms before me, its ancient stone softened by creeping ivy and the glow of the setting sun.
As I step onto the sun room’s stone threshold, the warmth of the gardens fades, replaced by the hushed stillness of glass and marble. It’s so quiet that I almost miss the other occupant in the room.
“ Principessa, have you been enjoying the gardens?”
I turn to find Evelina perched in the corner, seemingly enjoying a quiet espresso. The way her brow arches gracefully at me makes me feel inclined to bow to the Grasso matriarch.
“Very much, signora. ”
She beckons me over. “Evelina, please. I think the sun suits you well.”
I feel a slight flush at the compliment as I make my way over, pausing at the seat opposite her. “How may I help you?”
“Sit,” Evelina instructs in a tone that leaves no room for argument. “There is something I wish to discuss with you.”
I cautiously oblige, hands tightly entwined on my knee. There are a thousand things I hope she’s not about to say. I think I might combust if she mentions my relationship with Dante or tries to pry information out of me about my father.
But there’s something else too. With a start, I realize it’s fear.
Not of the Grasso di Ferro or the don before me, not for my life.
I’m scared she’s about to ask me to leave.
The thought floods through me with equal parts dread and pure, unadulterated horror at myself.
When did that happen?
“I would like to thank you, formally, on behalf of the Grasso di Ferro,” Evelina says without prelude.
I blink back at her.
“Excuse me?”
“As our tradition dictates, I will allow you to ask a favor of me.”
My jaw may as well be on the floor. “I’m sorry, what is it that you think I’ve done for the Grasso di Ferro?”
Evelina gives me a curious look as she takes a sip from her cup. It makes me want to squirm in my seat, but I hold fast.
“We spoke before that it is in my interests for my son to marry,” she says calmly. “But the Grasso di Ferro also needs a leader who is able to withstand a variety of challenges. My son’s engagement will provide ample opportunity for our little Mafia to showcase its strengths.”
My mouth twitches at the word little. From what I’ve gathered so far, the Grassos rule most of northern Italy. “I can see why that would have its advantages.”
Evelina smirks. “You’re a smart girl. Up until recently, I have struggled to…motivate Dante to see things as I do.”
That’s putting it lightly.
“But it seems that my son has recently had a change of heart.”
I stare back at her, no more enlightened by her words. The only thing bashing around my traitorous brain is: Dante wants to get married .
Dante wants to get married to one of those perfect Italian bachelorettes he’s been complaining about for weeks.
“What does that have to do with me?” I respond stiffly, swallowing down the bitterness that has suddenly wedged itself in my throat.
“I have known my son a long time,” Evelina says with a smirk. “I do not believe the words ‘selfish’ or ‘ungrateful’ have ever been in his lexicon, Italian or English.”
Oh. Right.
Evelina must see the recognition in my eyes as her smirk grows to a grin. “It was quite something to behold. So you must allow me to thank the woman who could make my son apologize to his aging mother.”
If I hadn’t heard it straight from Evelina, I’m not sure I’d believe it. But…
“He actually apologized?”
Evelina nods. “He’s instructed me to make preparations for a ball to be hosted here by the end of the week. For him to do so…it is quite a feat, Signorita Rubio.”
“Carmen,” I say instinctively.
“Then, Carmen, I invite you to ask something of me.” She sits back in her seat, seemingly content to wait.
This entire situation still feels insane. Am I supposed to think logically here? Do I ask for something that might help the Cartel? Information perhaps? There are probably a thousand things a matriarch could do for someone like me.
All I can think about is how much I’d love a glass of orange juice. Somehow, I don’t think that’s what she meant.
“Can you truly think of nothing? There is little beyond my capabilities.”
A tentative smile tugs at my lips. “I don’t doubt it.”
“Then you should also know that Leon Natali has contacted me personally to request that the Grasso di Ferro remain impartial in the Brooklyn conflict,” she gives me a long, knowing look. “A request I have, until this point, indulged.”
I lose a breath. “You’d be willing to negotiate for my return to Brooklyn?”
“The Prince’s Guild has kept my son away from me for a long time. Do not imagine I wouldn’t take a little personal gratification in adding to their torment.” Her smile is paradoxically feral on her otherwise composed visage.
Fuck, I’m really starting to like this woman.
But as I think about her offer, that same gut-wrenching sadness that has lingered since Rocco arrived, since I found out just how long I might be staying here, prickles in the corner of my eyes.
“I appreciate the offer,” I say as evenly as I can. “But I don’t think that would be in the best interests of the Cartel.”
Evelina frowns at this, clearly turning my words over in her head. “But what of the best interests of Amos Rubio?”
“I think you will find them to be the same.”
I have Dante’s dictionary to thank for my ability to identify the curse that leaves the woman’s mouth. “I do not understand. Are you saying he does not care for your return?”
Of course, she wouldn’t. This is a mother who has pined for her lost son every second he was away from her. Envy coils around my sadness like an insidious snake.
“I am an asset that belongs to the Cartel. My father knows I am alive. That’s enough.”
“There is a large distance between being alive and actually living, ” Evelina growls. “I fear your father only cares for one of these things.”
I look away, suddenly unable to keep my eyes from shedding the tears I’ve been holding back. For how long now? I’m not entirely sure.
“Oh, la mia principessa .”
I barely have time to register the movement before a pair of firm arms cradle me against her chest. The gesture is so painfully familiar that the tears only increase. Every wall I’ve built, every stubborn stone of resilience crumbles in a mother's embrace.
“You are more than an asset.”
A mortifying sob wrenches its way from my lips, and I have to violently shake my head. “I am loyal to the Cartel. I am. I will do what needs to be done. I will do it willingly.”
“What is it that you believe must be done, eh?” Evelina strokes a hand through my hair.
“I will marry my father’s ally. I will bear him sons. I will remain pure for him as a token of our respect.”
Her fingers hesitate a moment before they continue. “And after you have done this, how does the Cartel repay Carmen Rubio for her sacrifice?”
“It is an honor, not a sacrifice.” The words aren’t my own, and we both know it.
Evelina simply continues to card her hands through my hair. The moment stretches into a comfortable silence as I slowly regain my composure.
I finally pull away, patting the dampness from my cheeks. “I’m sorry.”
“Do not apologize to me.”
“Perhaps I could use my favor and ask you not to tell anyone about this.” Please don’t tell Dante about this.
Evelina tutted disapprovingly. “This requires no favor. It would be my honor, Carmen.”
Her words stun me to silence.
“You see the difference, no?” She pushes anyway. “You are a strong, intelligent, beautiful woman. There are many things that you deserve if only you would allow yourself to have them.”
Something sharp prickles beneath my ribcage.
No one has ever said anything like that to me before. Not my father, not his men, not even myself.
My worth has always been measured in loyalty, in obedience, in what I could offer to the Cartel. I was my father’s daughter before I was anything else. A pawn. A bargaining chip. A name that carried weight but never choice.
But Evelina looks at me differently. Not as a prisoner, not as a problem to be solved, but as someone who matters. Someone who deserves more than being handed off to a stranger like a prize to be won.
I exhale slowly, staring out at the gardens beyond the glass, watching the wind stir the leaves. I’ve always believed that my fate was set in stone, as unchangeable as the foundations of my father’s empire.
But what if it wasn’t? What if there was more to me than the life I was born into?
The thought is dangerous. It’s impossible. And yet, for the first time, I let myself hold onto it, even if only for a moment.
“You will come to me when you think of something,” Evelina says eventually, pulling me from my thoughts. “In the meantime, I hope you do not mind if I take some…liberties in regards to your stay here.”
I feel my brow furrow. “What do you mean?”
“I would like you to consider yourself my guest, not my son’s prisoner,” she decides resolutely. “We both know you will not run from here, so there is no need for such formal pretense. I will not have him send you to the dungeons whenever it is convenient for him.”
I bite back a smile. “As long as you’re the one to tell Dante.”
She shoots me a wicked smile. “Don’t you worry, Carmen. I think I will enjoy doing so very much.”
* * *
The evening of the ball arrives with all the fanfare one might expect of a literal castle.
The last few days have been a swarm of activity, and it had taken most of my efforts to stay out of the way of the various teams pruning, prodding, and decorating the vast halls and corridors.
Glimpses of Dante in the midst of it all were enough to make me promptly retreat somewhere he couldn’t find me. It was a cowardly move on my part, at least that much I can admit to myself.
But I wasn’t ready for that particular confrontation. Not when I’m still angry at him for Rocco’s visit, not when Evelina’s words have me spiraling and questioning everything I know. No, everything I want for myself.
For the first time in my life, I’m thinking about a future that isn’t dictated by someone else. The fantasy of it all is intoxicating. The freedom of it is devastating.
I want it so badly.
But the reality of achieving it…makes me run from Dante at every opportunity.
Defying my father, hell, defying the Cartel, will come with no small amount of repercussions. The kind I don’t want to inflict on anyone else—even if they’ve acted like an asshole.
Especially when they’re currently looking for a good, uncomplicated Italian wife.
I push into my bedroom, trying to squash the undeniably jealous thoughts from my mind, intent on locking the door and refusing to acknowledge the festivities until it’s safe to come out in the morning.
Only there’s something hanging from the dresser that wasn’t there before.
A Venetian mask sits on the table next to it, a note poking out below, the words, “ An honor, not a favor,” written on it in elegant script.