Unspoken Ties (Ties #2)

1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Liria

“ W ell, it’s important to understand that inflation isn’t just about prices going up. It’s a complex economic phenomenon driven by changes in the money supply and demand for goods and services.”

Dillon had been talking about the economy, and he must have gotten the impression I had no idea what he was talking about. Despite my attempt to politely interject and show that I understood economic theory, he continued to talk over me. So, with a forced smile and nod, I followed along with his monologue, hiding my frustration behind a facade of polite interest.

“Let me break it down for you. You see, when the money supply increases faster than the growth of the economy, it leads to higher prices because there’s more money chasing the same amount of goods and services...”

I couldn’t believe I was engaged to this man.

Growing up, I always knew an arranged marriage would be in my future. I was Hilaria Alto, the only daughter of the most powerful Italian Mafia family in New York City. I knew my father would fight to secure the man who was most beneficial to our family.

I was initially surprised when I learned my fiancé wasn’t from another Mafia family. It was the norm to wed within our own circles, in order to solidify bonds and create strategic alliances. When I learned more about his background, it became apparent why my father had made the choice.

Dillon was a member of congress, his family’s legacy in politics spanning generations. His father held a prestigious seat on the Supreme Court and other relatives occupied influential positions within the White House. My father already held dominion over the five most powerful mafia families in the United States - why would he bother arranging a marriage for me with someone of lesser status? It seemed he had a different kind of power in mind.

“But let me elaborate a bit more. See, it’s not just about consumer behavior; there are also factors like cost-push inflation and demand-pull inflation that contribute to the overall understanding of inflation’s impact on the economy.”

There was a large piece of spinach from dinner stuck between his front teeth, which further added to his lack of appeal. He was only an inch taller than me, which wasn’t saying a lot, because I barely cracked five feet. He also didn’t pay mind to his health, and had accumulated a lot of fat on his stomach.

I would have been able to look past it if he had an outstanding personality. But I had met Dillon two other times, and each time he had acted the same way. He barely let me get a word in and would explain basic concepts to me as if I was a child. I internally cringed, wondering how I could commit to a life of being with this man.

“Have you heard about the Phillips curve? It’s a fundamental concept in macroeconomics that explains the relationship between inflation and unemployment-“

The raucous noise of a fight erupted at the entrance of the restaurant, drowning out Dillon’s voice. I leaned to one side, straining to catch a glimpse of the commotion. Shouts and crashes echoed off the walls as furniture was pushed aside in the chaos. My heart raced with adrenaline as I wondered who was involved and what could have caused such a disturbance in an otherwise peaceful setting.

It was probably just one of father’s men having one too many drinks. The small, fine dining restaurant we were eating at was used exclusively for Mafiosos and their high-profile guests.

A towering figure sauntered by our table and came to a stop beside me. His broad shoulders and muscular frame spoke of physical strength and power. Despite the massive blood stain that covered the front of his shirt, he seemed completely at ease.

“Come with me if you want to live,” he stated, his dark eyes locked on to mine.

“Wh-what?” I responded, shrinking away from him.

“Now hold it right there buddy-” Dillon started, but the tall man kicked his chair over, causing Dillon to tumble with it.

The man didn’t ask me again. His rough, tattooed hand gripped my arm tightly, pulling me towards the darkened back of the restaurant. The smell of grease and old food lingered in the air, mixing with the faint sound of sizzling from the kitchen. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as he dragged me towards an unknown fate.

“Wait-” I began to say, before the sound of shots rang out through the restaurant.

My screams echoed through the air, piercing and raw. My heart raced with a mix of fear and gratitude towards this mysterious man who had whisked me away from danger. But as I gazed up at him, my eyes searching for any hint of his intentions, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was leading me towards an even more treacherous fate. And now, in the hands of this stranger, I feared for not only my own safety but for the future of my family’s legacy.

The legacy that I was incapable of continuing. I was my father’s greatest disappointment; not only because his only child was a girl, but because of how soft-spoken I was. My entire life I had been painfully shy, and no matter how hard he tried to fix me, my social skills never improved.

Per my father, one of the stipulations in the agreement for Dillon and I’s arranged marriage was the expectation of a male heir, someone who could carry on the noble Alto legacy. Because I had failed in every way.

“Dillon,” I said. “We need to go back for him.”

“I have a feeling the scumbag will be just fine.”

Dillon possessed many traits. He was arrogant, annoying, and stubborn. I found his presence unbearable, but I wouldn’t go as far as to call him a scumbag.

“That’s not nice,” I mumbled quietly, looking at my feet as I was all but dragged through the kitchen.

“What are you, a child?” He glanced over my body from head to toe and scoffed.

“I just turned nineteen!” I said, turning bright red.

“Might as well be.” He kicked open the back of the door to the restaurant, revealing a waiting car with its engine running.

The chilling reality of my fate set in, a heavy weight pressing down on me. I stood at the crossroads, torn between two paths - one leading to an unknown future and the other to certain danger and death. My mind raced with questions - was I choosing the lesser of two evils? Should I retreat back into the familiar restaurant, where death and blood were lurking just around the corner? The air was thick with tension and fear, as if even nature itself could sense the gravity of my decision.

My instincts screamed at me to seek safety inside the restaurant, despite the danger that lurked within its walls. My father’s voice echoed in my mind, warning me never to go with a captor to a second location, as it would almost certainly lead to death.

Panic rising in my chest, I broke into a run, desperate to escape. But before I could make it back to the door, strong hands closed around my wrist and yanked me backwards. The mysterious man’s grip was firm and unrelenting as he dragged me towards the now open car door. My heart raced with fear as I struggled against his hold, but he was too powerful.

“Get in,” he commanded, shoving me inside the sleek black vehicle. I glanced back at the restaurant where I had left Dillon behind. The sound of gunshots had ceased, a chilling silence settling in its place.

“Drive,” he commanded tersely, to no one I could see. The car lurched into motion, taking off at a speed I would have thought reckless even on empty roads.

The driver was obscured behind a black privacy screen, his or her identity unknown to me.

As he stared out the window, I couldn’t help but study his features. His jawline was defined, chiseled with strength, and his eyes were a warm honey brown that seemed to sparkle in the passing lights. He was older than me, though I couldn’t quite place his exact age - perhaps in his early to mid thirties. His presence exuded a sense of confidence and experience that drew me in.

He seemed almost otherworldly, like a being crafted by a powerful Greek deity. His perfectly chiseled features and god-like physique were almost unreal. I couldn’t help but feel a mixture of fear and fascination in his presence. If it weren’t for him kidnapping me, I would have been left speechless and bright red.

I also couldn’t help but think he looked familiar. But I quickly dismissed the thought. I would definitely remember if I had met this Adonis of a man before.

He shifted his gaze in my direction, giving me an intense glare. “What?”

“N-nothing,” I said, quickly looking away from him and out the window.

My heart pounded in my ears as the city sped by in a dizzying blur. Where was he taking me? What did he want with me?

Endless questions swirled in my mind, each more terrifying than the last. Would I even live to see the dawn? I shivered at the thought, wrapping my arms around my body to shield myself from the cold reality of it all.

The car veered off the bustling main city streets and into a maze of looming warehouses. The buildings, tall and imposing, cast long shadows in the fading light. Grime-covered windows and rusted metal doors lined the street, giving off an air of mystery and danger. The sound of traffic faded away as they drove deeper into this industrial part of town. The only signs of life were flickering streetlights and the occasional group of workers unloading cargo from trucks. It was a stark contrast to the lively chaos of the city center.

Oh god. They were probably kidnapping me and were going to send my father a ransom demand. Or worse, kill me and ship pieces of my body to him. My body shook with fear, and tears began to well up in my eyes.

We pulled up to a warehouse that differed from the rest. It was bigger, cleaner, and had an air of authority as it stood in the heart of this desolate area. The car came to a jarring stop, and I looked at my captor with wide, terrified eyes. He glanced at me, his eyes softening slightly before he pushed open the car door and stepped out into the night.

As he walked around to my door, I considered making a run for it once again. But before I could gather my thoughts, the door swung open and he offered me his hand. Hesitant, I took it and allowed him to pull me out of the car. His grip was firm but not unkind; a stark contrast to how he had dragged me here.

“Come,” he said authoritatively, leading me towards the ominous-looking warehouse. My heart pounded as we approached the entrance - a massive metal door that loomed intimidatingly above us. The man knocked on it three times, each echo resonating deeper and deeper into my chest.

The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit hallway that stretched further than my eyes could see. There was a cold, industrial aroma filling the air, a blend of steel and oil that only added to the foreboding atmosphere. The man guided me down the hallway with a firm hand on my back, not forceful but insistent. We walked in silence, our footsteps echoing ominously off the metal walls.

“In here,” he said, motioning me towards a door to the right.

The room stood out in stark contrast to the cold, industrial feel of the rest of the warehouse. It had been transformed into an office space, with freshly painted walls and sleek modern furniture. Compared to the dusty, dimly lit warehouse floor outside, this room felt almost luxurious.

Another man, about the same age as him, lounged on a plush sofa with a bored expression etched on his face. His eyes seemed to wander aimlessly around the room, lacking interest in anything or anyone around him. The faint tapping of his fingers against the armrest showed the restlessness he felt inside.

“Any issues getting her?” Mystery man number two asked.

“Not really,” he responded. “Thanks for the help.”

He was definitely being sarcastic with his response. The other man argued about how busy he was cleaning up and would have gladly traded jobs. He didn’t specify what he was cleaning, and I had a feeling I didn’t want to know.

“Hilaria Alto,” the first man finally said. “My name is Ettore Renzetti.”

Ettore Renzetti was a Don among the five powerful Italian mafia families. Despite their rivalry and long-standing feuds, a delicate peace treaty had been forged and maintained between the families. As an Alto, another one of the other five families, I felt somewhat reassured that my safety was not in immediate danger.

Despite completing years of etiquette classes, all the knowledge seemed to drain from my mind. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”