Page 60 of Forced Arrangement

“Your father and mother struggled to have children. You almost killed her and then she wasn’t able to have any more kids. You would have to be the heir to the family, which, as you know, just isn’t how things are done. So those two old men, they got together and made a plan. They betrothed you, just like medieval princes, to Angelo.”

I didn’t know my mother couldn’t have children after she had me. It certainly never came up since she had avoided men like the plague after our escape. She had been chaste as a nun for all I knew for practically my entire life.

“The trouble with Angelo being considered the natural heir to the venerated Castiglia name, is that Arnoldo had another son, an older son, who should have been the rightful heir to his family.”

I squint up at him despite the way that the room spins dizzily around me. What is he talking about?

Guiseppe laughs, a crazy laugh, that frightens me. All the hairs lift on the nape of my neck. “The trouble was, that son was impure, a half-blood, not good enough. Turns out that it is the fault of the child that their father chose to sleep with a maid from Mexico and get her pregnant. To hide the embarrassment of his great mistake, Arnoldo put his half-blooded son into the keeping of a man he could trust to hide his dirty little secret. Your father.”

My brain feels sluggish, but I’m finally catching up. Suddenly, I realize what he means. My eyes pop open and I stare at him as comprehension washes over me like a wave.

“You,” I say quietly, my voice choked.

He nods, the spark of insanity alive in his eyes. “Me. The half-blood, the shameful embarrassment to Arnoldo Castiglia. I was replaced by his full-blooded Sicilian son as soon as possible and was told to never hope to take my rightful place as the heir.”

He paces some more, rage radiating off of him. I shrink back against the wall, scared to death of him. It’s like being caged with a dangerous wild animal.

“So you see why I expected to take over for your father when he died. After all, you were a woman,” he spat on the floor again, “and you ran away. You were not fit to be don. I didn’t know about the betrothal, of course. I figured I would just take over and then I would fight Angelo to the death if necessary. After all, he had stolen my birthright. I deserved to take it back.”

I watch him cautiously, not sure what to expect from him. I knew enough about mob politics to understand what he had been thinking. When great houses didn’t have male heirs, often there was a contest of wills among the men who had served the family and the right-hand man tended to end up on top. But my father had realized what Guiseppe was, knew what kind of threat he was and so he had caged him in quite effectively.

I felt a new appreciation for my father’s plan, alongside a new terror as I realized what the baby I was carrying would mean to Guiseppe. Angelo’s and my child would be able to rightfully take over both of our houses, inheriting a shared legacy that would make them incredibly powerful.

Guiseppe stops pacing and stands next to me, looking up at the ceiling. He sighs and stretches out his arms over his head as if he is welcoming benediction from the beyond.

“Fuck you, father!” he screams out, the shout ringing through the tiny space. “And fuck you as well, Carlo!”

He turns toward me, his stare filled with hate. Like a snake, he shoots his hand out and grabs a hold of my hair, ripping me offthe floor. I scream in pain as my ribs protest and my hair feels like it will be torn out at the roots.

He slams me onto the table in the center of the room and slaps me. I taste blood in my mouth, but I refuse to look at him.

“Look at me, you spoiled bitch!” he screams in my face. His spittle covers my face. “Look at me!” he shouts again, delivering another stinging slap to my cheek.

Resentfully, I open my good eye to glare at him. Rage floods through me. I think of sticking my thumbs in his eye sockets and prying his eyes out like grapes. I’m shaking with fury despite my bruises and broken bones.

“Ah, there is the proud Agostini blood singing to life in your useless little body. If only you had been a man.” He sneers at me. “But then again, if you were a man, you would not be able to do the magic of women.”

He grins at me like a jackal and pulls out a large switchblade. He flips it open and raises it over my exposed midsection like some kind of crazed priest.

“No!” I scream, trying to roll up in a ball to protect my womb. “Fuck you, Guiseppe!”

We grapple, and I feel the sudden cold sting of pain that indicates that he has cut the skin on my back with the blade. He’s spitting curses at me, grappling with me painfully, but my fear has made me strong. I punch him in the face, screaming as my broken finger connects with his cheekbone. I will not let him kill my baby.

“You evil creature, Satan’s spawn!” Guiseppe hisses as he struggles with me. He slips into Italian, most of which I don’t understand, which is fine by me. I manage to roll off the table, getting free of his weight. I make a lunge for the door, but he’s faster.

He grabs my shoulder and then wraps his hands around my throat. I struggle, trying to get free.

“Stop struggling right now, or I will give in to what I want most, and stab you in the belly,” he spits at me.

I realize that he still holds the knife, and I freeze. I lock eyes with him, realizing that I’m crying, but also so angry that I feel sick.

“Your husband will be given a time to meet with me,” Guiseppe says. “If he is wise, he will agree. He will give your father’s legacy to me and I will probably allow this devil child to live.”

He jabs the knife forward and I arch backward with a cry. I feel the tip of the knife skate across the surface of my skin, drawing blood.

“But so help me, if either of you double-crosses me, I will come back here and make Jack the Ripper look like an amateur.”

He spits in my face and chucks me onto the floor in a heap. I lie gasping on the rusty metal surface, listening to him leaving. He slams the door behind him and locks it.

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