Page 2 of Promise to Break

I close my eyes for a fleeting moment, letting my inner darkness consume me, as the future husband of my sister kisses her like I'm not in the room. My fingers keep touching the phone.

Snap: a kiss.

Snap: a smile.

Snap: a stroke of his hand on her hair.

Snap, snap, snap.

"Mari, que piensas?"

What do I think? Fuck. You already said yes. I want to scream.

"How soon will you make me the happiest man amongst the living, my love? Can you think about a date? It can be today for all I care."

Right. Like the heir of the New York Italian mafia could ever see himself eloping or something ludicrous like that.

Serena looks at me as if I should have a say. "Whenever you're ready to make my sister, the queen, she is, I guess, but let's not do it tomorrow. We haven't yet met the other members of your family, after all."

Santino chuckles as he slides the too-shiny ring on Serena's slender finger. I stare at the huge teardrop rock that's shinier on her finger than it was in the box. Even knowing nothing about jewelry, I have no doubt this piece is expensive.

"It's stunning," I compliment, as is expected of me, when Serena flashes it before my eyes. Truly, I understand the importance of jewelry, if for nothing else, at least for its sentimental value. After all, the heart pendant on my neck is all I have left from my mother.

This is the right choice, I remind myself again.

Yes, the man in front of us is a killer, a cruel one at that, if the rumors of why he happened to be in this rundown part of the city five months ago are true. Personally, I never believed the tale that he wanted to escape his chauffeur for some peace and quiet. From what Joshy, the neighborhood gossip, said, Santino came here to clock a man and brutally at that.

After talking with Joshy, I decided to check for myself who this man who had come by to see my sister day after day was. The task was a difficult one, but people talk, especially when you give them food.

From the information I gathered, I learned that Santino Fierro is a well-known businessman and entrepreneur. But according to the information in the forgotten parts of the Bronx, the Fierro family is just one of the mobster families within the New York mafia elite, and Santino Fierro is the eldest son of the Italian capo Franco Fierro, and therefore, next in line.

Santino is not only handsome, but he is also well-mannered and dangerous as all hell. Yet, he is loyal, and according to all reports, has never had girlfriends or lovers. From what the press could find about him, he's a dreamer of sorts, the pride of his father, the best friend of everyone. They call him a romantic executioner, with no evidence of the latter. The good boy of the Fierro bloodline.

"Two weeks then. I don't want to wait," Serena exclaims, clapping her hands together as she stops to look at the rock that sealed her fate. Both of our fates because my sister isn't one to leave me behind. She's too good of a person. Even when I took from her, and I did from my very first breath.

I was so big of a burden that my mother didn't survive while giving me life. I was the reason my father abused Serena each time she tried to protect me. Despite that, after he died from too much alcohol, my sister did everything possible to take me out of the system and become my guardian. Even now, when she's finally found her happy-ever-after with a monster who treats her like a queen, she looks at me, waiting for my approval.

"It'll be the wedding of the year," I tell her, my voice just as forced as my smile, all my surprisingly white teeth gleaming at the happy couple as they laugh, hug, and kiss.

This is the right choice, I tell myself yet again.

Chapter two

Maricela

Two days pass before we're invited to the Fierro mansion. Apparently, Franco Fierro, the head of the family, missed his home in Italy and took his beautiful wife on a two-week vacation, leaving his son to take care of everything. But now they've returned, and today is the day I will be able to take the first step toward changing my sister's luck.

Santino told us to buy some new dresses for the occasion—on his dime, of course—but the last thing anyone would see me wearing is an expensive dress. On the other hand, Serena opted for a dark silver dress that seems tailor-made for her. The hairdresser Santino sent curled her hair into big locks that somehow resemble my natural ones without the messy part, and the makeup artist made her big, deep brown eyes even bigger, and her features sharper and more beautiful than they are naturally.

While Serena enjoyed being pampered and glamorous, I chose to wear my favorite gray t-shirt with a dancing jalapeno print and the words "Not today, Jose. Maybe mañana " I paired that shirt with simple black jeans and black sneakers, leaving my hair in its natural glory. The only extra I put into my appearance was to use some gloss on my thick lips. After all, I'm not the one who needs to impress someone today.

"We're here, Hermanita," Serena points out as if anyone could miss the wealthy monstrosity standing on the hill in front of us. The Fierro mansion is too bright and too big to pass by without noticing. From my seat in the car that Santino sent for us, I can't really tell how big it is, but the place is certainly vast judging by the façade and full of floor-to-ceiling windows that show nothing to the person from the outside through their mirage of mirrored glass.

Pedro, the Argentinian chauffeur that Santino allegedly tried to escape the evening he met my sister, opens our car doors. "Welcome to the Fierro household. I am very glad to see more women in this place full of men. Señora Isabella will love you to pieces."

I think I'm in dreamland. Whether it's a nightmare or a sweet dream is the real riddle. Pedro opens the front door for us, and we step onto a huge slab of marble that seems to be custom-made for this place.

All the walls are naked except for an enormous painting that displays the beautiful Fierro family at the end of the foyer. I take the steps necessary to examine the picture more closely. It's oil on canvas because… Well, of course, it is.

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