Chapter 17 #2
I sigh, looking down at the floor. I wish there were another way out.
I like Francisco, but I’m not sure I want to make this kind of commitment.
Besides, I only just learned what my father did for a living, but Francisco hasn’t said anything about his own line of work.
He’s not a hitman, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t have guys who will do that kind of thing for him.
I’m not a fool. You don’t get to be in Francisco’s position without breaking a few heads along the way.
“There’s something else,” Francisco says.
“What?” I sniff.
“You have family back in Italy,” he shares. “It looks like your grandfather was shunned from the family over some gambling debts.”
I laugh. It’s all too fantastical to be real. I don’t know anything about my father’s side of the family. My mother was a farmer from Missouri, and her parents were kind to me before they passed. Then after my mother died, all I had left was my dad. Brandon didn’t count because he was so young.
“I have a family?” I ask, unable to stop my voice from breaking.
“Yes, you do,” Francisco replies, touching my hair ever so gently. “They live in Italy, and I doubt they’ll hold your grandfather’s sins against you.”
I feel like I’ve been handed a consolation prize. All this heartache and the threat of a violent death fades away for the moment, and all I can think about are all the aunts and uncles and cousins I’ve never met.
“Our families are very close back in the old country,” Francisco continues. “My family, the Corellos, and your family, the Roccas, have a long history of cooperation.”
“Thank God for that,” I exclaim. At least I don’t have to worry about Francisco turning against me based on some ancient feud.
“When Frankie was little, I arranged a marriage that was supposed to bring our two families together,” Francisco says.
I’m feeling a little uncomfortable. I’m not sure what he’s saying, but I don’t like the way the conversation is going. Why would he bring up arranged marriages?
“Unfortunately, the little girl died in a car accident when she was twelve. So the marriage couldn’t happen,” Francisco continues.
“I’m not going to marry Frankie,” I tell him. I feel like this is out of the blue, and I’m not sure if I’m reading the subtext correctly. I just want to make it clear that I have no intentions toward his son.
“Not Frankie,” Francisco replies, touching my hair again. “Me.”
My heart stops. I’m so confused. I feel like I’m looking at a jigsaw puzzle that’s only half assembled. On the outskirts of the picture are all the missing pieces, bits of information that are vital to the whole. But I think I’ve just witnessed a proposal.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” I whisper, shocked and flattered more than anything else.
“Yes,” he confirms. “For business purposes.”
“For business purposes?” I repeat, watching the romance between us deflate.
“Yes,” he continues uncomfortably. “If we were married, it would provide extra protection for you, and it would serve to unite two powerful families back in Italy.”
I have to laugh. It’s cruel, and I don’t like the sound of it, but honestly, I’d hoped for something more loving from a man proposing marriage. A business arrangement is a copout. I know he’s got feelings for me. I’ve seen the way he looks at me.
“There’s one more thing,” Francisco says.
“One more thing?” I ask skeptically. I’m on information overload at this point.
“I can’t ask you to be my wife, even if it is just a business arrangement, without telling you the truth,” he says. I can tell he’s nervous.
“Do I want to hear the truth?” I respond.
He doesn’t react to my sarcasm. Instead, he looks me dead in the eye and says, “I am the Don of the Corello family.”
I swallow heavily. I know what that means.
I’ve seen all the movies, and I lived a portion of it through my dad.
I’ve never met a Don before, but I’ve heard them talked about with reverence and fear.
It means that Francisco is in charge of an entire criminal enterprise.
Everyone on the streets defers to him, and nothing gets done without his consent.
“Take some time to think it over,” Francisco says, patting my hand.
I’m torn. Now that I know who he is, it doesn’t change anything.
He’s still the kind man who held me tight as we danced, the person to whom I’m drawn even though I wish I weren’t.
It’s kind of him to offer to spend the rest of his life with me just to keep me safe, but I want something more.
I appreciate the fact that this may be my best shot at living in peace, but I always thought marriage would be something special.
If I agree, then I’m settling for a life without true love. And that’s not appealing at all.
But would I really be settling? I care about Francisco in more ways than one.
I haven’t been able to forget the explicit dreams I’ve had about him.
What it would be like to make love to him for real.
Although in his business arrangement, I’m not sure if there would be a place for lovemaking.
He’s not offering his body, mind, and soul to me, just his name, his protection.
I nod slightly to indicate that I’ll think about it. I’m feeling overwhelmed, and I don’t know how to escape the conversation. He picks up on that fact and stands up.
“I’ll give you some time,” he says, leaving the room without a goodbye.
I’m left all alone, staring at the four walls around me.
Why does everything have to be so hard? I thought I had a handle on things until a few days ago.
Now it seems like my entire life is up in the air again.
Do I walk down the aisle with a man who only sort of cares about me?
Or do I take my chances on the open road?
It seems like either choice I make is a losing one.