Page 5 of Red

He looks directly at my grandmother. Her eyes are narrowed at him. Her back straightens, as if she is annoyed by his appearance but not particularly upset. Why doesn't she seem nervous or upset that strange men are standing in the middle of her living room? She seems to know these men. What is she up to?

“Nicholas, I told you I wanted you to wait for my signal. I haven’t had time to explain things with Blanche. But, since you're already here…Blanche, I would like to introduce you to my friend Nicholas.”

Yep, I was right. She fucking knows him, that’s why she’s not upset.

Nicholas’ eyes meet mine, causing a creepy shiver to crawl up my spine as my grandmother is introducing him. He grabs my hand without my permission, kissing it. His eyes never leave mine as he speaks to her in a low voice, “I couldn’t wait any longer for the bride that you promised me.”

As he says this, his eyes turn with a look of hunger and he licks his lips. I am so disgusted by this. I snatch my hand back and hold down the bile that is trying to come up into my mouth.

I start to stand up, still trying to keep everything down. “Grandmother, what does he mean? I’m not marrying anyone.”

Before I’m able to get all the way up, she interrupts me.

“Sit down, dear. I thought I would have more time to explain, but it seems that we have run out of it.” She says with an icy mask and irritated voice as she connects with Nicholas who is still openly staring at my chest right now. She then waves back down to the chair that I was just sitting in. “Blanche, I said sit down.”

Nicholas sits down next to Grandmother while the rest stand around us. He’s staring at me, waiting for me to sit. He has a look that has a hint of malice behind it, but I’m not sure why.

My stomach feels as if I have a million little snakes crawling around in my stomach. I take a deep breath trying to calm myself, breathing through my nose to keep down the bile that’s rising up in my throat. As I think about the insanity of this situation, a strangled laugh starts to bubble up out of my throat. This has to be a joke.

Everything is starting to seep into my brain, and I start to feel the icy atmosphere. Sweat starts to drip down my back. The shock of these men barging into my grandmother's living room has worn off and I suddenly feel how much danger we are really in. Or maybe I'm the only one that’s in danger.

I’m wringing my hands together, trying not to show my nerves but needing to do something with them. I don’t want any of these guys to see any kind of weakness. Suddenly, my grandmother coughs breaking the silence and looks at me with sharp eyes that I’ve never seen before.

She narrows them even more and starts with, “Blanche, as you know, I will be passing onto the next life a little bit sooner than I would like. I thought I would have more time to train you to adjust, but we don’t have the time for that. Here is the hard truth about our family business: I took over for your grandfather and now it will be your turn to take over the business.”

I am trying to process what she’s saying and I’m not sure what’s happening. I know my grandfather was a businessman, but it seems that I’m missing something. I hear my grandmother’s voice in a sharp tone.

“Blanche, are you listening to me?”

This brings me out of my head. I look at her with my blank face and hear myself icily reply, “Yes, Grandmother. I’m listening.” Thinking to myself, yes, I am fucking listening but still have no idea what the fuck you are talking about.

She continues with her story. “Now I know you knew your grandfather was a businessman, but what you didn't know is that he was also the head of Le Milieu, known as The Wolves to most people.”

A shocked gasp comes out of me. I whisper, “The French Mafia.”

I’ve heard of The Wolves before and the rumors of them in the city. Almost every news story has a whisper of The Wolves behind it, but no one knows for sure.

She continues not even realizing the inner turmoil that’s occurring inside my head right now. “The Wolves provide services to those who have the money. We provide them with whatever they need: a wife to continue the line, a mistress to occupy their time, maybe just some servants for the house, guns, or drugs. Those that we provide this service to give us something in return, whether that is money or information. If those that owe us can’t pay their debts, we make them regret it and take back the goods we’ve provided.”

As she explains, all I can think about is, This is so fucked up. I’m pretty sure she is talking about human trafficking and slavery. My family can’t be involved in this shit, can they?

My thoughts are interrupted when I hear her mention my grandpa.

“When your grandfather passed, I took over and helped it become stronger and more powerful. He was short-sighted and only wanted to sell weapons and guns. But I expanded the family business into people. Now, it's your turn. I want you to take over when I’m gone. You’ll start training here with Nicholas. I will help fill you in along the way, on anything that Nicholas can’t provide. I wanted you to meet Nicholas because in a month, you will marry.”

I’m dumbfounded and school my features even though on the inside I just want to scream. I examine the man sitting next to her and I know I can’t marry this man. His arrogance rolls off him in waves as if he is owed something, and I’m not sure what that is. He barged into my grandmother’s house demanding that my grandmother tell me, I’m to marry him. Like I'm some kind of prize. My hand starts to tingle where his dry lips kissed and I start to rub it on my pants, trying to remove the feeling that he left behind.

I’m not the type of person to just sit back and do as I’m told, I’m a survivor. I will not allow my grandmother or this man who I don’t know to take over my life. Unfortunately for her, she taught me better than that. Or should I say Gregory and Maria did. The more I think about this situation, the angrier I get. My hands move to my sides clenching into a ball when the words burst from me.

“I’m not going to marry him!”

My grandmother doesn’t say anything. She just stares at me. This might even be scarier than if she were to scream at me. Abruptly, she stands up and grabs my chin, not allowing my eyes to focus anywhere else but on her, fingernails digging into me.

She sternly states, “Blanche, you will marry whoever I say.” Then she releases me so quickly all I feel is the ghost of her touch as she returns to her seat, sitting in it as if it’s a throne.

My mind is moving so fast from all the information that has been thrown at me tonight. My mind starts to run away with the ideas of marriage, then the Le Milieu, and how I didn’t see these signs.

Hell, how was I left in the dark for so long? Could there have been signs? Did my parents ever do anything that would’ve tipped me off? I mean, I guess their death was strange. Shit, I guess all of that could’ve been signs, right?

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