4. Isa
ISA
Three days passed by in a blur.
I couldn’t even remember if I had done anything significant—I shook my head.
I knew I hadn’t. Sometimes, I wondered if this was all my life was ever going to be.
That I would continue to exist with nothing significant ever happening.
I let out a small sigh as I turned back from the small walk I had taken about half an hour ago, just to get out of the house.
The property around Dad’s house was expansive and isolated.
Behind it was a short trail that led into a small clearing, and beyond that were trees that Dad had hired someone to plant around the property line more than two decades before.
Surprisingly, they had held up well and provided a nice little covering for the house in case it was ever attacked.
I never walked beyond the clearing. I didn’t need to.
It was far enough away from the house that I felt like I was in my own little world.
If it weren’t so impractical, I might have just stayed out there for most of the days. As it was, the Las Vegas heat was unforgiving, especially since we were heading toward the summer, and I was barely able to last an hour out here before I needed to make my way back home.
I wished I hadn’t. Because as soon as the back of the house came into view, so did Dad and two other men with him.
Made men that, like Dad, were part of the traditionalist group that came up in power along with Amadeo De Luca, a handful of decades past, and their daughters—three other women a little younger than me.
They were all out in the backyard, food on the patio table, along with beer bottles scattered about.
I eyed those, knowing it wasn’t Dad’s first beer of the day.
Dad immediately caught me, and I fought against the urge to freeze up right then and there. I plastered on a smile I didn’t feel and continued to make my way over to them. There was no escaping this.
“There she is,” Dad said, signaling for me to come closer. I did, stopping when I was about a foot away from the table. I took in each of their faces.
Next to Dad was Aldo Valachi, a man I knew was most similar to Dad when it came to his views of how Massimo was running things now.
He had his two daughters with him, Alessia, the eldest, who was only three years younger than me and was already engaged to another traditionalist’s son, and Chiara, only a year younger than her older sister.
It was Chiara I was mostly wary about because while Alessia could be mean on a good day, Chiara was downright spiteful.
It also didn’t help that she had her sights on Elio and was planning on being the next Mrs. De Luca.
I briefly met their eyes before turning to the other man at the table, Dario Gravano. He brought along his only daughter, Giada—Chiara’s best friend.
I was obviously not close with any of them, but I knew them well enough to know never to trust them with even the most mundane facts about me. The women would somehow twist them into entertaining fodder to feed to the other women they hung out with.
This was just going to be so much fun.
Not.
“Hello,” I said, bowing my head slightly.
“Why don’t you stay and keep the girls entertained,” Dad said. It wasn’t a question or a request.
I nodded and took the only available seat between Chiara and Alessia.
I was surrounded.
Great.
Their perfume hit my nostrils as soon as I sat, the scent strong and nauseating.
Maura came out and brought a small plate over to me, along with some utensils.
I smiled my thanks at her, and though she didn’t smile back, her eyes were soft when they met mine, and I knew she wished I were anywhere but here right now. Same as me.
I piled some of the salad on my plate and a few deviled eggs, not really tasting any of it. I mostly pushed my food around on my plate, not paying attention to what the other women were saying as the sound of Dad’s voice, along with his friends’, moved in and out of my consciousness.
Until I heard my name.
The women stopped talking as well. And while I told myself not to do it, I couldn’t help but look up at the table to find Dad’s gaze already on me.
“When are you going to set up a marriage for Isa?” Aldo asked.
My skin felt hot, and I tried not to show any reaction to the question. It was a sore subject for Dad, especially since I knew how much he hated having to defer to Valentino for most things now.
Dad scoffed. “When Valentino gets his head out of his ass and does right for the girl.”
I looked back down at my plate, focusing intently on my food as the men around the table made sounds of agreement.
“I get having Valentino take over for you in business, but family matters should have remained in the hands of the head of the household,” Dario commented.
Chiara leaned in close to me and whispered, “Is it because no man wants you that Valentino is having such a hard time finding a husband for you?”
On the other side of me, Alessia snorted, hearing Chiara’s words. I didn’t bother with a response. Trying to say anything would only bring our fathers’ attention over to us, and that was the last thing I wanted.
Dad took a sip of his beer. I wished he wouldn’t drink too much… I wished he wouldn’t drink at all .
“What can I do?” Dad said, not bothering to disguise the bitterness in his voice. I tried hard not to flinch at that. “Valentino has Massimo’s backing, and we already know how things are run with that kid in charge.”
Both Aldo and Dario nodded. They all held the same view. And while Dario and Aldo hadn’t been forced to retire like Dad, they were losing a lot of the power they had held back in the day.
That kid.
Massimo was thirty-three years old. He was anything but a kid, and unlike his father before him, he was known to be ruthless, ruling over Las Vegas with an iron fist, whereas Amadeo De Luca had been known only for his cruelty.
I was young when Amadeo died. I remembered how most of the traditionalist men had mourned his death, my father included.
But Massimo had done something his father hadn’t been able to do.
He expanded the empire further west, making deals overseas that had seemed impossible during Amadeo’s rule.
This was something I knew about, even if I wasn’t in the life. I was sure Dad and his friends knew this, too, but they were willing to “forget” this little fact because Massimo was slowly veering away from most of the traditions that were set in place during his father’s time.
Not that I would say any of that to them. I didn’t have a death wish.
I poked around at my food, focusing intently on that as the conversation around me moved in and out of focus.
“Remember how we were all making fun of Aldo for not having any daughters?” Dad said, and Dario let out a small chuckle. “The bastard is luckier than us.”
I sank a little further into my seat.
I knew why Dad was saying that. Daughters were easier to control. And with no sons in the household, there was no one to vie for power.
It wasn’t the first time I thought Dad might have hated Valentino more than he hated me.
My fist clenched around the fork I held in my hand.
Dario, like Dad, had one son and one daughter; only, his son was younger than his daughter and was nowhere near ready to take over for his dad.
However, from some of the conversations I overheard between Valentino and Elio, it seemed that Massimo was planning to train most of the younger men, preparing them to take over for their fathers soon, and Davide, Dario’s son, was no exception.
Massimo was slowly pushing the older generation out.
I closed my eyes briefly. The politics of it all was giving me a headache.
When would this lunch be over?
I plastered on a fake smile as I stayed by the door and bid our guests farewell. Chiara grabbed my hand before she left, and I tensed, resisting the urge to pull away, especially since both our fathers were watching.
“This was fun. You should go shopping with Giada, Alessia, and me this week.”
I would much rather poke my eyes out.
“Sounds great,” I said, knowing that was the only acceptable answer for Dad. Her smile widened, even as something sparked in her eyes that I didn’t like very much. “Great! I’ll text you the details later.”
I let out a small sigh when she finally released me and turned away.
The house was nearly quiet as soon as the door closed behind them, and it was just Dad and me remaining in the foyer. Distantly, I could hear Maura cleaning up outside in the backyard.
I turned and peered up at Dad, but I couldn’t meet his eyes for long.
“I’ll be up in my room,” I said softly, so as not to trigger him.
He didn’t say anything for a beat. His eyes took in my face, and I resisted the urge to shift on my feet, showing just how uncomfortable I was. How uncomfortable he made me.
I made a move to walk around him when he spoke, making me freeze on the spot.
“You must feel protected now because Valentino decided you wouldn’t have to marry anyone you don’t want.”
I took in a deep breath, trying not to react to his words.
He turned toward me, making my heart feel like it was about to plummet straight down to my stomach. “You didn’t think I knew about the deal you two made?”
I shook my head and opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He inched closer to me. I knew better than to move away. He would see that as some sort of challenge, and that would only make things worse for me.
“How long do you think he can hold this off? Until you turn thirty?”
He scoffed, as if the idea of an unmarried woman in her thirties was so ridiculous.
“Massimo might have sided with Valentino when it comes to matters of the famiglia, but this is a family matter. I will be requesting a meeting with him soon, and then both you and Valentino will submit when it comes to your marriage.”
He turned to walk away, and I spoke before I could think better of it. “You can’t do that.”
I shrank back when he glared at me, wishing I could take the words back.
He moved without warning and wrapped his hand around my neck, slamming me up against the wall.
Pain instantly shot up my back and throat.
I didn’t know which to focus on until I felt him tightening his grip, and I was suddenly afraid he would kill me right then and there.
I struggled against him, feeling like there wasn’t enough air getting into my lungs.
My vision tunneled, and I tapped at his hand, trying to get him to let go.
He leaned down until his face was a mere inch from mine.
I kept my eyes on him, trying to keep them open.
The fear that I might pass out, or worse , should I close them, was very real.
“You don’t think I can do that? You’ve gotten too comfortable with Valentino playing your protector, girl. But you need to remember that I am your father, and in this household, I am in charge. Got me?”
I forced myself to nod. He kept his hold on me for three more long seconds before letting go of me. My legs gave out, and I fell to the floor in front of him, tears streaming down my cheeks as I tried to gulp in as much air as possible.
Dad stayed there and watched me for a moment as I struggled to get my bearings straight before he walked away, leaving me sitting there alone.
The tears continued to fall down my face, and there was nothing I could do to stop them.
What was I supposed to do?
Massimo might have been trying to veer away from some of the traditions in place for his men, but there were some traditions that couldn’t be changed.
It didn’t matter that he was the capo dei capi of the De Luca Famiglia—there were lines even he wouldn’t cross, like interfering in his men’s family matters.
If Dad was successful with his meeting, I didn’t think there was much Valentino could do to stop my impending marriage to any man Dad thought might help him.
I closed my eyes as more tears poured out.
The feeling of helplessness overcame me, familiar and loathsome all at once.