Chapter 5 Sofia
Sofia
Ninety-six floors later, Dante and Marco escort me to the dining room of Vito and Rina's penthouse.
Dante's fingers are wrapped tightly around my right elbow while Marco is on my left.
They don't drag me like they would anyone else, but they are rather heavy handed when pulling me out of the elevator to the long table where Vito sits at the head, already waiting.
Shit.
My sister sits on his left, a mix of exhaustion and concern tugging at her eyebrows. "What the hell, Sof—"
Vito raises two fingers, cutting Rina off with a mere flick of his wrist. Clenching my teeth, my fingers curl into tight fists, causing my nails to dig mercilessly into my palm.
Thank you Vito, for giving me another example of what I don't want my life to turn into.
I won't be silenced by a dismissive wave.
Letting go of my arm, Marco moves to take the seat to the right of Vito.
Vito has yet to speak, but he nods at Dante before gesturing to the seat directly across from him.
With his free hand, Dante pulls out the chair and loosens his grip to give me the chance to sit on my own.
I don't move. Standing, I hold Vito's stare, making it clear I will not be following his orders.
"Sofia," Rina hisses. "Sit."
Keeping my silence, my eyes remain locked on my dear brother-in-law.
A muscle in his jaw goes taut and he gives Dante another nod.
Despite the controlled frustration in his movements, Dante's hands are otherwise gentle when he moves from the crook of my elbow to the top of my shoulder and pushes me down into the chair.
Whether it's protocol or an intimidation tactic, Dante remains standing behind my seat.
Vito scratches his chin, thrumming his fingers on the table with his other hand.
Despite his stoic expression, his fury is visible in his reddening ears.
If he's waiting for me to be the one to break our silence, we are going to be here all night.
If he's wanting an apology, we'll be here even longer.
Don Vito may be willing to go low, but I'm willing to go to hell.
He lets out a long sigh before putting his hands together and resting them on the table. "Sofia."
"Vito." His name is like venom on my tongue, souring my entire mouth when I speak.
"Please enlighten me as to what the fuck is going through your head tonight?"
My sister mumbles something to her husband before placing a hand on his. He takes a deep breath, looking away from me momentarily to keep himself in check. Not going to lie, getting Vito to listen to someone else is a refreshing change of pace. I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smirking.
"What do you know?" He asks, remaining on topic but nonetheless changing his question.
"Enough," I answer, wanting to get a little more under his skin before I start cooperating.
He may not have all the power with this interaction, but there's only so much my sister can do to keep him under control before he snaps.
I repress another smirk at the twitching muscle in his jaw from across the table.
His next words are spoken through clenched teeth. "Believe it or not Sofia, I am trying to protect you."
"By marrying me off to one of the Costello cunts," I hiss, using the same term he used when reading their demands, letting him know I'm not na?ve to the current situation. "Yeah, I'm sure that's the exact protection detail I need, thank you so much."
Vito clenches his fists and closes his eyes, turning his head toward the table while working to maintain his composure.
"I see. Well, I suppose if you're in the know, there's no point in dancing around the problem.
Yes, Kieran Costello is demanding a virgin bride; and yes, you were brought into the conversation as a proposed solution—"
I scoff. Proposed solution. Like I'm some bargaining chip they can throw on the table.
"—but," he continues. "Much like I told Rafa, Marco, Dante, and your sister—we will not be handing you over to them. We will find someone else to meet the demands."
His words give me pause. I look to the other faces in the room to gauge possible dishonesty from him.
Not that it does me any good, they're all unreadable, blank slates.
The only one showing any semblance of an emotion is Rina, and frankly she just looks pissed she was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night.
I hadn't overheard them discuss any other solutions to satisfy Kieran's demands, and I don't know that these men are trustworthy enough for me to believe them now.
Slowly, I shake my head. "That's all you care about, isn't it? Meeting demands and having your own demands met. You know what else I heard, Vito? The two people that check all the boxes are me and your sister."
Rina's head whips around to face her husband, whose ears turn a deep crimson again.
"Oh, did he not tell you? Well, I suppose that's not entirely true. Elena's name was brought into the mix as well, but we all know she doesn't exactly fit Kieran's criteria."
"Like I said," Vito's tone hardens to match his stone-faced expression. "We are looking for someone else. Finding a virgin who won't be overly combative to an arranged marriage isn't something that can be worked out over one afternoon."
"And how many afternoons do I have left before you feel like finding someone else is too much of a hassle?" I counter, calculating and direct. I've learned that with Vito, the best strategy is to name the threat aloud.
Vito doesn't answer my question; instead, he pivots the conversation. "It is too dangerous for you to be sneaking around, period. What if they attacked the club tonight?"
"What if?" I counter. "Would you have tried to bargain for my return, Vito? Or would you have written it off as their demands being met? Don't pretend to care about my safety when all you care about is keeping your businesses operational."
"Sofia Gallo," Rina snaps. "Business or not, you do not speak to my husband like that."
Her words hit me like a slap in the face; I can't help but flinch and lean back in my chair, defeated.
After everything we've been through, after all the times she protected me from our father's hand, I never thought my sister would side with the man who murdered our father over me.
Betrayal burns in my chest, making me feel more alone than I've ever felt.
Unshed tears burn my eyes as I force myself to meet my sister's gaze.
Regret is clear in her own dark, glassy eyes, but it's too late. She chose a side, and it isn't mine.
"After everything with Papà…after everything with him," I point at Vito.
"I can't believe this is where our sisterhood ends.
I am not going to let your husband use me as some means to an end.
I'm not something to be traded or bartered.
You're no better than either of them if you think I'm going to sit by and just let my future be decided for me. "
"Sofia," her voice cracks, but I shake my head. I open my mouth to reply, but Dante breaks the silence he's kept since leaving the car.
"May I make a suggestion, sir?"
Vito pinches the bridge of his nose, but waves at Dante to continue.
"Given Sofia's…plans…surrounding the current demands—and much like you said letting her be out on her own alone is dangerous—I'd like to suggest enhancing her protection detail to mirror yours and that of Donna Rina's.
It's clear Sofia is not one to be controlled, but uncontrollable does not have to mean unprotectable. "
Vito contemplates for a moment; one hand returning to his chin while the other returns to thrumming on the table.
Unable to face my sister and not wanting to give Vito the satisfaction of knowing I'm waiting on his decision, I stare at the clock ticking away on the far wall.
Each tick sounds like another second of my freedom slipping away.
Nearly two whole minutes pass before Vito nods in my peripheral.
"Fine. Dante, until further notice you are reassigned to protect Sofia. She will remain safe, untouched, and under your watch twenty-four seven—are we clear? No clubs, no partying, no sex. Just home and work. Sofia is to be kept safe," he reiterates. "Under lock and key if need be."
I practically jump from my seat. "What?"
Vito all but smirks. "Dante is right. If you won't listen, the least I can do is keep you safe with whatever reckless decisions you choose to make while we work on finding someone that satisfies all the demands.
You know, actually," he stands, clapping his hands together with a mollified grin.
"I'm feeling gracious and in the mood to host. You can stay in the guest room tonight.
Your sister will call your mother and let her know where you are, so she doesn't panic at an empty house in the morning. "
"Absolutely not. I'm going home!" I argue, but even as the words leave my mouth, I know it's useless.
"I wasn't asking. Even if I have to lock you in the room myself." Vito growls, leaning onto the table. "I'm willing to overlook the disrespect you've shown me tonight. But disrespect my wife again and I will entertain the option of handing you over to Kieran."
The threat hangs in the air like smoke, choking me. I want to scream at him, to tell him exactly what I think of his threats, but the cold calculation in his eyes stops me. He means it.
Warily, Rina gets to her feet. She faces her husband, but her eyes flicker to me a couple of times as she lowers her voice to speak to him. "I'm going to have Nico take me to Mamma. I'd rather tell her in person, and I'll grab some necessities for Sofia."
I refuse to give my sister a second glance. The betrayal still burns too fresh, too raw.
"I'll go with you," Vito responds, gently kissing Rina's forehead. "Dante's got it from here."
And just like that, my fate is sealed. Handed off like a responsibility no one really wants but someone has to deal with.
Marco waits until the elevator doors close Vito and Rina in, leaving us all alone before he gets up. "Well, that was certainly entertaining."
I glare at him, turning my nose up before storming toward the stairs. I hear him say something to Dante, something about congratulations and shining knights, but I don't care. I slam the guest room door behind me with enough force to rattle the frame.
The guest room is pristine, decorated in muted grays and whites—sterile and cold, just like everything else in this damn penthouse.
I pace the length of the room, my bare feet silent on the plush carpet.
This is my life now. Dante watching my every move, reporting back to Vito like I'm some unruly child who can't be trusted.
I need to wash the night off my skin, to scrub away the feeling of hands grabbing me, of being carried out of that club like a sack of grain.
The bathroom is just as sterile as the bedroom, all marble and chrome.
I splash cold water on my face, washing away the remnants of my carefully applied makeup.
In the mirror, my eyes are red and puffy, but at least the smeared eyeliner is gone.
When I swing the bathroom door open, I nearly jump out of my skin. Dante is standing there, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. My mouth turns into a grimace and my eyes narrow into what I'm sure is another scowl.
"What do you want?"
"I'm just doing my job. Get used to me princess, I'm your shadow now."
The way he says 'princess' makes my skin crawl. Not because it's cruel, but because there's something almost...fond about it. Like he's not entirely unhappy about this arrangement. Which makes one of us.