Daddy’s to Keep

Chapter 1

Keri

“Which one do you like the best? The red velvet cake with cream cheese frosting? The vanilla one with strawberry filling? Or perhaps the devil’s food chocolate cake with dark chocolate whipped cream frosting.

My personal favorite is the lemon cake with raspberry jelly filling myself,” the older woman droned on.

I didn’t fucking care which one was her favorite.

I didn’t even know her name. She might have told me what it was. Maybe she hadn’t.

Honestly, all these stupid cakes tasted the same. It really didn’t matter to me which one ended up at the reception tomorrow.

I just had to choose. Again.

One seemingly endless decision after the next until it all came together in one perfect day of happily wedded bliss.

Only it wasn’t. It’s not like I had a choice in whether I wanted to get married to begin with. That’s the one choice that had been taken away from me from the very start.

As soon as I turned eighteen, the wedding planning had started, and it never fucking stopped.

Choosing the wedding dress had been a hassle and that had just been the beginning.

I must have had at least three fittings since that day and I still had another one this afternoon, after the final flower check and last-minute seating arrangements.

The wedding venue had wanted to know what color tablecloths and curtains I’d wanted months ago.

And all that only scratched the surface to the infinite amount of detail that went into planning a wedding of this magnitude.

“I don’t want it. Any of it,” I scoffed.

“What was that, dear? Should I prepare more samples for you? I’ve got plenty more scrumptious recipes that you can taste,” the woman blurted out. She was desperate to please us. Maybe my father had threatened her and her family. Asshole.

“Keri, pick a cake,” my father demanded, his voice dropping down to a dangerous level.

This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, but the contract had been signed more than ten years ago.

My marriage to Anthony Battista had been arranged in order to barter an alliance between the Esposito family and the Battistas.

The hope was that once our families were tied together, we would garner more power than ever before and hopefully offset the multiple blows we’d experienced recently from local law enforcement.

Only I didn’t want to do it anymore. I’d never even met Anthony. I’d seen his pictures throughout the years, but my parents had kept us apart on purpose. I’d never even talked to the man I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with.

I wanted out. I needed out.

“Just do as you’re told, Keri,” my mother replied.

Her voice was shaky. I glanced at her, unable to hide the disappointed sneer on my face.

Under the harsh light of the bakery, I could tell that her makeup was extraordinarily thick around her right eye today.

My father had probably given her a black eye last night.

Over the years, I’d learned to tune out the screaming matches between the two of them, but sometimes the reigning silence afterwards got to me.

She’d learned a few tricks to hide the bruises and evidence of his abuse in their time together, but I knew they were there. I knew what he did.

He’d never raised a hand toward me, but I always feared that might change without much warning.

“I don’t want to do it. I’m not going to marry Anthony,” I said firmly.

The older woman cleared her throat. She was an innocent.

She wasn’t tied to the Esposito family, nor was she a Battista.

My mother had chosen her because she was one of the most talented bakers in New York.

It was rumored that she baked for the wealthy and famous and even once catered a reception for the Queen of England.

“Why don’t you give us a moment,” my mother said nervously, and a look of relief flooded across the baker’s face.

“Just give me a holler. I’ll go prepare a few more samples just in case,” she whispered, her voice strained with fear. My father smiled in her direction, but it did nothing to alleviate the situation. If anything, his tight-lipped tension only seemed to make matters even more terrible.

The reigning silence felt thick as she took her leave. Once the door closed, it felt ten times worse. Now I was alone with my mother and my father. No prying eyes to see what happened behind closed doors and that felt infinitely more dangerous.

“You don’t get to make that decision. It’s done. The ink has been dry for a long time, Keri. Your wedding is tomorrow. You will walk down that aisle. You’ll take your vows, and you will marry Anthony Battista whether you like it or not,” my father said unsympathetically.

“You don’t own me. I’m a legal adult. I have rights. You can’t sell me off to the Battistas like a fucking prized cow,” I snapped.

“I can and I will,” he countered, his voice harsh.

“I didn’t sign that contract. You don’t have my agreement. I don’t consent to this,” I replied furiously.

My father’s gaze darkened slightly. My mother kept her eyes down, refusing to meet mine.

I knew she wouldn’t defend me, but her silence still hurt.

She knew I didn’t want this. I’d told her at least a dozen times hoping that somewhere deep inside, she wanted to protect me and save me from a loveless marriage to a man who I never met.

She didn’t say a fucking word and I knew if she didn’t now, she never would. She was weak. I hated her too.

“You will marry Anthony tomorrow. I don’t care if you are unwilling. I’ll force you down that aisle myself if I have to,” he snarled.

“I won’t do it,” I growled.

“You will or else,” he replied angrily.

“Or else what? You’ll hit me? You’ll give me a black eye like you did to Mom last night?” I yelled. I didn’t care that my voice was beginning to carry. I no longer gave a shit whether the baker could hear me or that I was airing our dirty laundry to the public in a way I’d never done before.

“I’ll do what I have to do,” my father spat as he stood up so hastily that his chair clattered to the floor. The resulting echo was loud, and for a moment it all went silent as I prepared myself to fight for my own freedom.

“So will I. You forget I know who you are, Father. You’re a mobster.

A fucking criminal. A murderer. A drug dealer.

I could go on and on with each and every law you’ve broken.

All I need to do is put in one anonymous tip to the right people and I could take you down.

You think I’m na?ve, but I know the names of your businesses.

I know the names of people you use to launder your money, to sell your drugs.

I listen. I observe. I remember because I knew that someday that knowledge may prove useful should I ever need to go against you,” I spat back.

The darkness in his eyes grew pitch black.

This was the face of a killer, a person that didn’t hesitate to order someone’s assassination or pull the trigger himself.

The true kingpin revealed himself to me at that moment and I steeled myself against the danger.

I took my growing fury and held onto it like a vise, using it to fuel my brazen show of power.

I was a mobster’s daughter, his fucking daughter, and I wasn’t going to show him a single moment of fragility.

Without a second’s hesitation, he grabbed my arm and tore me out of my seat.

He threw me backward and I slammed into the wall, knocking my head hard enough to make me see stars.

I cried out and instinctually bowed forward.

My fingers flew to the back of my scalp, trying to assess the damage as my head rang from the impact.

No blood. My head spun. It would likely bruise, but there would be no lasting effects other than a nasty headache. I squinted, narrowing my eyes with fury.

“You wouldn’t fucking dare,” he roared.

“I would,” I spat.

His gaze took on a dangerous gleam and for the first moment, I felt myself falter. He took advantage of that single precious second and slammed me back against the wall by my throat. His thick fingers curled around my neck and I squeaked in surprise.

It was clear that he held my life in the palm of his hands. If he squeezed just a bit harder, he could end me and the look in his eyes told me that he knew it too. He’d done it before.

My mother said nothing. Not a single god damned word.

“You will sit down and choose a fucking cake. I don’t care which one you choose, but you will choose one.

Then your mother and I will take you to your dress fitting and you will go without a fuss.

After that, we’re going to go home, and you will go to your room where you will spend the rest of the night thinking about how expendable you are to me.

If you even think about picking up that phone to call the cops, I won’t hesitate to slit this pretty throat myself.

I don’t need you to barter an alliance with the Battistas; you are just the simplest solution.

You’re replaceable. There’s plenty of girls in the family that I could marry off.

Know that you’re not special, you worthless cunt,” he sneered.

His fingers grasped a little bit tighter, as if his words weren’t enough to send a message.

The pressure was just enough to cut off a portion of my breath.

Any tighter and I’d lose the ability to breathe at all.

I stared into his eyes. He was deadly serious. I’d played my hand and lost. He had been dealt the winning suit that topped mine by a long shot.

I swallowed, knowing that I had been defeated. I couldn’t win this battle against him, not by myself and not like this. My father had too much power over my family. He wouldn’t make that kind of threat in jest.

I had to know when to fold and that time was right now. I still had the next twenty-four hours to figure out my next move. I’d come up with something. At least, I hoped I would.