12. Chapter 11 Soren
I’m having a hard time keeping myself composed while Gin sits beside me. The last time I saw her cry was the day the cops told her mother that her father had died in a boating accident. She didn’t even cry at his funeral. The entire time, she consoled her hysterical, sobbing mother, while she didn’t shed a single tear.
She didn’t cry when Jude made fun of her for wearing braces in front of a huge group of his friends. I remember the way her smiling face morphed into big glistening eyes and her cheeks burned scarlet, but she squared her shoulders and glared at me like I was the one who said it. All the while, it looked like all she wanted to do was cry.
Gin is still sniffling when I drop her off at home. I wish I could pull her in and hold her again. I’ve never seen such defeated eyes in my life. This gut-wrenching feeling consumes me and I can only chalk it up to the fact Gin is my sister’s friend and my best friend’s sister. I’ve grown up around her. It would be hard not to be protective of her.
She opens the door and hesitates for a second. “Thank you, Soren,” she says softly, vulnerability shining through her.
“You can call me anytime. I’ll always come.”
“I’m starting to realize that.” She forces a smile, but her lips don’t stretch as far as they should. “Hey, Soren?” She pauses, looking hesitant. “If you hear from Jude, can you tell him to call home, please?”
I nod and she closes the door behind her.
It’s been a week since Ginevra’s car ran out of gas. I glance at my watch and increase my pace to almost a jog until I’m walking into my father’s strip club. I slow down, nodding to a few of the girls on staff. The door is closed and I want to kick myself for being late.
I’ve been using my resources and men to try to find a lead on Jude. When Ginevra asked me to get him to call home, I knew I had to put away my frustration with him and do the right thing. We have years of history. He must have an explanation. The most recent lead I followed was a dead end. I want to kick my best friend’s ass for ditching like a guilty pussy.
I walk in, hoping to fly under the radar, but everyone turns their eyes on me as I enter. I walk toward Cyrus and he lifts his hand for me to kiss his ring as a sign of respect. My father does the same. With a room full of family, I kiss both rings before taking a seat.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Karissa’s father is putting all his resources into finding your fiancée,” my father announces. My spine stiffens at the mention of her. “This is ruining our trade routes,” he continues, like it’s putting him out. It’s not. His reaction to this whole situation makes me believe he gets a bigger piece of the pie if I marry her specifically. What has her father promised him that we don’t know about?
“Karissa is no longer suitable,” Cyrus openly speaks against my father.
The men in the room side eye each other. The animosity between Cyrus and my father has been kept behind closed doors for the most part. A struggle for power would not sit well with the family.
“Soren will marry Ginevra Pasello.” Did Cyrus just announce that I was going to marry Ginevra? I sit there, shocked, my eyes darting from Cyrus to my father to the family.
My father grows red in the face. “He already has a bride,” he growls, then turns his narrowed, hateful eyes on me and flashes a menacing smile. This is the smile I have come to fear over my lifetime.
“Do you prefer Ginevra over Karissa, son?” His voice is calm, controlled, but with a sinister edge.
If I say yes, I have no doubt her life could be in jeopardy. My body is stiff, each of my muscles tightening, making my shoulders feel like stone.
Placing my elbows on the table, I lean in. “Karissa has disrespected the family by disappearing.” A few of my uncles slap the table in agreement. Her father should be of no importance to our family. He’s not anyone in the rankings, although he makes our family a lot of money.
Ginevra deserves someone better than me, but unfortunately, she’s going to be on my father’s radar more than she should.
“She was your best friend’s daughter,” Cyrus reminds him. “This should have been decided at the time of his death.”
“I gave his son a job. One he would have lost a hundred times over if he wasn’t like a son to me. I pay for a roof over their heads. I hold parties in their honor. I’ve done all of that out of loyalty to my dead best friend.”
“We take care of our own,” my uncle Antonio says in agreement, the other men nodding their heads with Alesso. I grew up calling all the men around the table Uncle, even though none of them are blood related.
“Soren is going to be an underboss one day. Let my son have Ginevra, as an honor to her old man,” my uncle Enzo suggests with a wave of his hand, like he doesn’t care. But I’ve seen the way he’s looked at Ginevra before. I wouldn’t trust him or his son with a ten-foot pole around her.
The tie around my neck is suffocating. The men around the table feel like vultures trying to grab Ginevra for their own amusement. Jude should be fucking here to stand up for his sister. My fingers lock together on the table, when all they want to do is loosen the noose around my throat. Each swallow becomes thicker, harder to push past the pressure.
“Where’s Jude? Shouldn’t he be here to negotiate on her behalf?” my father sneers.
My Uncle Enzo responds, “He’s a soldier, why would he be here?”
“It’s about respect,” I object.
“While we’re on the topic, he has to marry someone, too,” Antonio adds to the conversation. “Why not my daughter?” He taps his drink on the table twice.
“We owe it to her father,” Atticus responds, ignoring Antonio as he speaks for the first time.
“Jude’s not here. Alesso should make the final decision.” Enzo gives a firm nod to my father.
“Soren does like them pretty. But she hasn’t lived our lifestyle since she was six. There’s no telling if she’s pure.” Our father contemplates for a moment, giving me an innocent smile. “The doc and I could examine her to make sure she’s a virgin.”
The men around the table murmur among themselves as my blood pumps through my ears and ringing erupts in my head. Sweat peppers my brow and under my arms. Over my dead body will he touch her. By the rising volume in the room, the men are starting to like this idea all too much. Hell will freeze over before I allow any of them to touch her.
“We’ll have a show of the sheets the day after the wedding.” I toss out without thinking. The talk falls quiet and that’s all it takes to solidify the family on our marriage. The look on my father’s face says it all. He’s not happy. The other men only care about another celebration that they don’t have to pay for.
I’m going to have no choice but to marry her to keep her safe from my father. With Jude gone, she has no one to protect her.
“I’ll allow the union if her mother agrees,” Alesso announces, like it’s his decision. Cyrus’s eyes connect with mine and we both know he’s saying this to save face.
The meeting continues, but the tension is thick. I can feel my father’s eyes on me, burning an invisible hole into my skin.
“Should I go tell Ginevra and her mother the happy news?” my father asks, sarcasm thick in his voice.
My molars grind at his arrogance. “I have it under control. I wouldn’t expect you to do something so beneath you, Father.”
“As it was pointed out to me, this should have been my duty,” he seethes. “You boys make a mockery out of me!” he yells, pointing at me. “You better make sure this one doesn’t end up disappearing, too. Someone might think you have a dark fetish.”
From anyone else, I might have taken the words as a joke.
From my father, it’s a clear threat.