Page 7 of Prized Possession

I may trust my brother more than most, but I don’t like people in my personal space, unless it’s my choice. “I’m fine. Let's get a drink,” I say through my fake smile, gesturing towards the bar.

He looks at me for another moment, and I hate the way it makes me feel—exposed. I attempt to brush it off, widening my smile to the point my cheeks hurt, as I approach the bar.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I feel his hand drop from my back. I can still feel his looming presence beside me, following me, and I try to focus on the buzz from before.

It doesn't take long for us to reach the bar, and it’s even less time before the server abandons who he was about to serve, ignoring their complaints, and heads straight over to us.

With a polite smile, and a respectful head nod, he addresses Jacob. “Mr Santoro, it’s good to see you again. What can I get you?”

Jacob smiles at the man's polite respect, but I see him bristle slightly at the use of his surname. It reminds him too much of our dad, and that’s the last thing Jake would ever want.

“I’ll have a beer, please,” he says, before turning to me. “What about you, Clo?”

The server turns his attention to me. “Pink gin and tonic, please.”

Without another word, the man moves to the bar behind him to start making our drinks. I take a moment to look around the club, though it’s hard to pick out small details as the room is full.

I have a love-hate relationship with this club.A bit like with its owner, I think. Then I have to scold myself for thinking of that arsehole at all.

Although Marcus has been Jake’s best friend for as long as I can remember, we’ve never been friends. I have had a crush on him forever, but it’s very much one-sided. In fact, I actively try not to find him attractive, by focusing on his fucking miserable personality—but it never works. No matter how much of an arsehole he is, I can’t seem to stop myself.

So when I tell myself I’m looking around the club to see who else is here, or maybe to check out the people dancing in the cages, I know I’m just trying to bullshit my own brain.

Of course, I’m looking for him. I just don’t know if I’m pleased or not when I don’t see him.

The server grabs my attention, letting me know my drink is ready. As I turn to pick it up, I notice there are two shot glasses, filled with what looks to be vodka, next to our drinks.

I turn to my brother, my eyebrow raised in question. “I figured we could do some shots,” he replies with a shrug ofhis shoulders.

He grabs one of the shot glasses and raises it in the air, as though he’s going to make a toast. He looks pointedly at the one that’s meant for me, waiting until I pick it up. Once I have, his mischievous grin grows.

“What are we toasting?” I ask.

“I mean, we can always toast your engagement,” he states sarcastically.

I glower at him until he looks away from the heat in my stare. “I’m not sure which I want to toast more… Our arsehole dad who’s selling me off to the highest bidder, or the disgusting prick who bought me.”

A shiver ripples down my spine as I think about the meeting yesterday, when I was officially proposed to by Scott Caprillo. Though calling it a proposal seems insincere, as it’s not like I was allowed to turn him down.

I had to hold my hand out and let him slide the massive gaudy diamond onto my ring finger, before he placed a kiss on my lips, despite the fact I'd barely spoken to him prior to that meeting.

It took every ounce of strength not to scream, cry, or vomit all over his ridiculously shiny shoes. No matter how much my family warned me this day would come, there was a small part of me that hoped it never would.

I thought my family loved me too much to hurt me like this, to take my choices away.

I should have known what I want doesn’t matter. People have been taking things from me my whole life, I just hoped the people who are supposed to love me unconditionally would be different.

Jacob is, and always has been, the exception to this. Despite us arguing like all brothers and sisters do, we are good friends. We’ve been looking out for each other since we were kids.

With only a year between us, we grew up close, and being brought up in the mafia lifestyle meant there were very few people we could trust except each other.

Jake hates the responsibilities that have been thrust upon him, he never wanted to be the leader of our family. He still doesn’t want to be part of this life, and if he could get away from it, he would. So I know he despises the idea of me being used in another one of our dad’s power plays just as much as I do.

“Let’s toast to the arseholes we hate and love to dream about killing,” Jake says, dragging a laugh from my lips as he clinks his shot glass against mine.

We both pour the liquid down our throats, and I’m basking in the delicious burn, when a deep rumbling voice echoes into my ear from behind me, sending a shiver down my spine.

“You wouldn’t be toasting about me, would you?”

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