Page 6 of Forced Arrangement

“You are many things Sophia, but stupid is not one of them. You know who I am.” He's right. Of course, I know who he is. Well, at least I know of him. He’s the boogeyman of the underworld.

“Don't call me that. My name is Sarah.”

“Is that what she had you believe?” He takes a step, and just like that, he's too close to me. His scent invades my nostrils, swimming in the air around me until all I can smell is him. All I can see is him. I feel a sudden urge to collapse into his arms and I cringe away from the idea right off. What is wrong with me?

“You're good at pretending, but nobody is that good, Sophia.”

I was not about to fall for his trap, not after everything my mother did to keep us safe.

“If you aren't going to tell me who you are, leave. This is a gathering of family and friends only. You're neither of those things.”

His eyes lock with mine again, and he nudges his glasses back into place with an elegant finger. I was sure that he would call my bluff, but then he just nods.

He reaches into his coat and hands me a small card, his expression unreadable. “Fine. I’ll play. Angelo Castiglia. I’m sorry for your loss.”

My heart skips a beat at the name—Castiglia. It’s a name that was whispered in the shadows during my childhood. It’s a name that carries weight and fear. My stomach twists into knots as I stare at the card, the letters blurring in front of my eyes.

“Doesn't ring a bell,” I lie. “Were you a friend of my mother’s?”

“I was a friend of your father’s.”

That sent a chill down my spine, and he must've seen the fear in my eyes because he moves in closer, like a predator stalking his prey.

“Why are you here?” I ask softly, trying to steady my voice. “What do you want from me?” It was useless to push my luck with the games now.

“I need to talk to you,” he insists. “Not here. Later.”

“There’s nothing for us to talk about.” I try to walk away but he grabs my arm. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough to let me know that he could cause unimaginable pain should he so desire.

“I’m not your enemy. I'm not here to fight. Twenty minutes is all I need.”

I hesitate, my heart pounding in my chest. Every instinct screams at me to run, to get as far away from this man as possible. But there is something about the way he looks at me, something that makes it clear he isn’t asking.

“Please,” he adds, his voice softening. “It’s important.”

With trembling fingers, I take the card from his hand. It’s plain, with nothing but his name and a location scrawled in elegant script on it. I glance up at him, my mind a whirlwind of confusion and fear.

“Why?” is all I can manage.

“Because you’re not safe,” he replies, his eyes darkening with an emotion I can’t quite name. “There are things you don’t know, things you need to understand. Meet me there tonight, and I’ll explain everything. After I'm done, if you still want nothing to do with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Call it desperate hope, but I’m willing to cling to any silver lining I can at this point. He might not be sincere, but I don’t see that I have a choice in any of this. I have to know why he thinks I’m in danger because my mother told me that I was before she died.

He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, turning on his heel and walking away with the same quiet confidence that had drawn my attention in the first place.

“What was that about?” Justine asks, her brow furrowed with concern as she returns with two cups of tea in hand.

I shake my head, slipping the card into my pocket. “I’m not sure…but I think I need to find out.”

The rain continues to fall, a steady patter against the ground, but I am too lost in my thoughts to care. I look down at the card again, the name Angelo Castiglia burning into my mind. This is bad—really bad. I have spent my entire life running from the world my mother fled, the world of crime and power that had consumed my father. And now, it seemed, that world had found me again.

Justine looks at me, worry etched into her features. “Are you okay?”

I force a smile, though it feels hollow. “I will be.”

The funeral ends and I stay behind, waiting until the last of the mourners leave before making my way back to the grave. Justine hovers nearby, giving me space but refusing to leave me alone.

The earth is freshly turned, the hole in the ground an ugly scar on the landscape. I kneel beside it, the dampness seeping through my dress, and let the tears fall freely now that I am alone.

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