Page 8 of Till Death Do Us Part

“You can try that.”

“Catalina,” I said, a grain of hope springing to life. “He listens to her.”

“Do you think she’ll recognize that your sudden interest in being her sister-in-law is to benefit from her position with your brother?”

Mom was right. I should have tried sooner to be close to her. “I’ve been in mourning and isolated in the mountains, surrounded by trees and guards.”

“They’ll be here late this afternoon. I don’t think you’re going to change Dario’s mind.”

“Who is it? Who does he want to marry me to?” I verbalized my fears. “I’m not a virgin. Who wants an older wife?” Surely not a man in line to work his way up in the famiglia. My thoughts went to recently widowed men. Oh God, would it be someone old, someone as old as my father?

Mom shook her head. “I’m not going to say. I’ve voiced my objection. The rest is up to Dario.”

“Your objection.” I pushed away my breakfast. “You’re not in favor?”

“I can’t imagine anything worse.”

Anything worse.

“What does that mean?”

Mom inhaled as she stood. “We have few choices in our world. Yet we do have the choice to live or die.”

The sunny day faded into the darkness of Mother’s words. As I walked back up to my suite, my thoughts were in a downward spiral. There were stories of women who killed themselves to get out of loveless, abusive marriages. It was the way of the famiglia…

In alive.

Out dead.

Could I do that? Could I take my own life?

It depended upon Dario’s announcement.

Would I have a life worth living?

ChapterTwo

Mia

Ididn’t dress appropriately for dinner despite our honored guests.

As I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw a woman about to attend her sentencing. I knew the ropes. This wasn’t the first time I’d had this conversation. Eleven years ago, I’d taken the news of my impending nuptials like the proper young Italian woman I’d been raised to be. Clenching my jaw, I peered into my hazel eyes. Twenty-four hours ago, they’d been filled with optimism for the future. Now they looked back at me with a blank stare, no longer filled with hope but void of emotion. If I let emotion take hold, I wouldn’t be able to go on with this dinner.

Straightening my shoulders, I exhaled.

That proper girl no longer existed.

That well-bred obedience had been raped and beaten out of me. On the night of my wedding, I’d made the mistake of telling Rocco no—I was young, frightened, and believed in the hope of kindness and consideration. The memory of the way his lips curled at the challenge made me want to vomit. The blood I’d shed should have enraged my father, the man who was supposed to protect me. My heart died a little when along with the other men, Father laughed at the news and patted Rocco on the shoulder.

No. I wouldn’t go willingly.

I wasn’t dressing up for the capo dei capi when he was about to condemn me to another loveless marriage. Whoever Dario thought he could marry me off to would have a rude awakening. I’d done my time and grown stronger for it.

I made myself a vow.

Taking my own life wasn’t in my future. However, I wasn’t above murder. How could I have lived in this famiglia for nearly three decades and not embraced the idea of killing those who thought to control me? In the five months since Rocco’s death, I’d experienced a new kind of freedom while simultaneously being held captive in the mansion. If killing was necessary to retain my freedom, I’d live that way in a federal prison. It had to be better than marriage.

Wearing tight black leggings, flat ballerina shoes, and a loose black shirt, with my dark blond hair pulled back to a ponytail, and very little makeup, I made my way from my suite down to the first floor, knowing that Dario and Catalina were due to arrive any minute. There were voices coming from below.

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