15. A Family Re
15
A Family Reunion
Jessica
It’s been an interesting couple of days since Matt showed up to my room asking questions.
For the most part, I’ve stayed in my room, though at least once a day, I’m summoned down to the equivalent of the great hall, where a bunch of old, crusty men talk about me as if I’m not actually there.
Luckily, given my career in entertainment as well as my previous experience living amongst these types of people, I’m entirely accustomed to the dealings of old, crusty men. I was barely sixteen when I was finally released from my life sentence of misery. I’d been working on getting an out for myself when my mother passed, securing me a future outside what was going to be expected of me as the daughter of a criminal overlord.
This means I know the best way to handle these types of men is by pretending they’re not there.
I’m not sure if this knowledge is making it easier or more difficult, considering the urge to roll my eyes is high most of the time. I only got caught one time so far, which earned me a pretty good slap, and then choking down maniacal laughter just about sent me into a tizzy.
I haven’t seen Matt at all, and I wish I could say the same thing about Matteo.
One thing I learned about him is that he’s vile. He’s come sniffing around here a few times, and I’ve managed to maneuver him back out the door relatively unscathed, but I feel it’s only a matter of time before he stops playing nice.
I’m contemplating whether or not a person can die of boredom when one of the women shows up, stating my presence is required. If she has any actual information, she’s not sharing it with me, and I don’t bother prodding too much, knowing it would be pointless.
The room isn’t nearly as full as normal—maybe two dozen men—half of whom I don’t recognize. I scan the faces of each person, taking a mental note of the ones who appear to be new, and then I look at the end of the room where the old men who typically call the shots are all congregating.
And that’s when I see him.
I frown, swallowing the suddenly painful lump in my throat, and then I sigh, putting my shoulders back and straightening my spine as I walk toward him.
My father has arrived.
I’m annoyed yet not surprised that they wouldn’t provide me with a private word with him before making a spectacle. I’m sure they decided to do that so we wouldn’t be able to come up with any kind of story together, but knowing my father, he has it all in hand anyway.
My general feeling as I look at him is ambivalence.
I recognize that his allowing me to go out on my own wasn’t something he had to do. It’s also something that would be frowned upon by basically everyone.
So for that, I’m grateful.
But it also leaves me vulnerable because I have no idea what’s happened since I’ve been gone. I’m sure he hasn’t suddenly shifted into a good person, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he would want to cause me harm, especially knowing how my mother would’ve felt about it.
If there was ever anyone he loved more than himself, it was her.
I stop when I’m a few feet in front of him, and he looks me over quickly, his eyes briefly meeting mine. The coldness emanating from him sends a shiver down my spine.
No one says anything for a few moments, and I grip my hands together in front of me and do my best not to fidget nervously as I wait for someone to say something.
After a few long, awkward moments, my father nods shortly and says, “I see you’ve finally managed to do one thing correctly.”
I frown and then quickly shift my features back to neutral as I nod, knowing I’m not meant to say anything. If nothing else, I do remember my place is to be seen and not heard, and even if I’m heard, it’s only to say what I’ve been told to say.
My father turns back to the men in charge and says, “I’m glad my gift made it to you unharmed. Shall I assume that it is well received?”
The men look amongst themselves for a moment before the older one, who typically does the talking, says, “Very well. Once the shock wore off, of course.”
My father smiles as he replies, “Well, I would think Matteo would be pleased. If nothing else, she’s not bad to look at.”
The men laugh, and my lip curls minutely before I’m able to school myself, now completely understanding what Antoinette was talking about when she said they will make your blood boil.
I remain quiet, my eyes downcast to not draw attention to myself. The less I have to say, the better because nothing I say at this point is going to help me see the light of day outside of this shithole.
The older man laughs as he says, “Well, he’s certainly pleased with her pure status. Imagine our surprise to find there’s still a virgin left.”
My father’s eyes dart to mine, and one of his brows lifts in such an out-of-character move that I have to suppress the urge to giggle. He immediately goes back to his typical, aloof coldness as he responds smoothly, “That’s right. Some of us still know how to keep our daughters in hand.”
The urge to snort is overwhelming.
Of all the ridiculous and insulting statements one could make about me, this one really takes the cake.
I grit my teeth and stare hard at the floor, so lost in my suddenly murderous thoughts that it takes me a moment to register that my father is saying my name.
My eyes jump to his, hopefully wide-eyed and innocent and not at all reminiscent of my inner feelings, as I respond demurely, “Yes, Father? My apologies. I’m so overwhelmed with the events of the last few days that I got lost in thoughts of the future.”
He presses his lips together, and the look on his face can only be described as incredulous, and once again, I have to suppress my urge to giggle.
“We just decided that you and Matteo will be married in two days’ time,” he replies coldly. “Everything will be taken care of for you, so all you have to do is put on a dress and show up and do your job. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
His hand comes out and makes a shooing motion that has me biting the inside of my cheek, and I quickly turn on my heel and head to the door for fear I will say something I will instantly regret.
The same woman leads me back to my room, and as soon as I get there, I slam the door shut and lean back against it, my heart galloping in my chest.
Two days is a lot of time when you fear you’ll die of boredom, but it’s a very short amount of time to figure out how you’re going to dodge the biggest bullet of your life.
And after Bobby, that’s saying something.
I know if it comes down to it and I find myself standing across from Matteo at a marriage ceremony, there’s nothing I can do to stop it.
I think back on all the conversations I’ve had with Carolina and Antoinette about how to survive in this kind of life. Then, I think back on the common theme that all women fall back on time and time again. When you’re stuck in an impossible, kill-or-be-killed situation, you always go for the jugular.
And there’s no rule saying you can’t become a widow on your wedding night.