Page 12 of Bred To Be Owned

“I wouldn’t have questioned you if you had come for Toula. She’s the better option.”

I didn’t know if this was a trick, or if he was just making an observation.

“Toula is the top of her class. She shows promise in being an asset to whomever her intended will be. I could easily tell you no on Irini, and offer you my prize.” He picked up the contract on his desk, letting the pages fall forward. “Yet, you insist on Irini, or at least this says so. Why?”

I couldn’t tell him the truth. I’d promised “his prize” that I would protect Irini from his greedy grasp. Shifting in my chair, I bought myself a few more seconds. “I’m doing you a favor.”

If I hadn’t been paying attention to him, I would have never seen the flash of anger that burst in his eyes.

“You haven’t said a word about the business aspect of the proposal. I’m going to assume that it passes your inspection. It’s a suitable reward with minor risk, and I’ve built the infrastructure to support it. It also doesn’t include an exclusivity clause. If your people choose to enter the hospitality industry, we’ll support them as well.” I took a minute to let that sink in before I continued.

“It’s your tradition, but I understand that if a daughter doesn’t produce a child in five years, her father pays retribution. I’m a betting man, and you and I both know that Irini won’t survive an actual marriage. You will end up having to pay retribution to anyone, and you can’t leave it alone because she’s your first daughter. If you agree to this, you can save face among the rest of the families in the city.”

“By giving you Toula in five years?”

I couldn’t tell if I was getting through to him. The don had a reputation for loud, emotional outbursts when things didn’t go his way. I didn’t see any sign that he would let loose on me.

“I’m only asking that you keep Toula pure for five years as the retribution. If Irini doesn’t make it, Toula will step in to fulfill theagreement. If Irini does, Toula will be a little older than a typical arranged marriage, but you’ll still be able to get a good price for her.”

He shook his head and grabbed a pen from the cup on his desk. Signing his name with a flourish, he handed me my copy of the documents. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

I stood from my chair and shook his hand. Turning around, I headed for the door, my finger rubbing over my tattoo of the XT. All the work I’d done to prepare for this moment had paid off, and yet, I didn’t feel like celebrating. I still had five years to wait.

Chapter 7

Toula, Age 18

It was Monday, and I was walking through the foyer to the formal dining room. Stopping at the mirror in the hallway, I fixed my ponytail before heading in. I’d spent most of the day at school, and I hadn’t cared about my appearance, but I wouldn’t have that luxury here. It was a miracle I didn’t have to change clothes to please my parents. I wore jeans, and as long as I looked presentable, no one would say a word.

Walking into the dining room, I took my place next to Irini. I had been right when I’d said Old Man Lombardo wouldn’t care about losing his fourth son. The Italians had buried Junior, and the Old Man had washed his hands of Irini. He had claimed she wasn’t his responsibility, since the marriage hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours.

Irini had moved back into our family compound, as was custom. She spent most of her days in her sanctuary. We only saw her at dinner, and she never spoke to anyone. The catatonic state had never broken. She was still breathing but not truly living. My father told anyone whowould listen that it was because she was in mourning. We all knew the truth. It wasn’t her husband that she mourned.

“Nice of you to join us on time, Toula,” my mother sneered. I didn’t bother to respond. It would do more harm than good. My mother could get irked easily, and I didn’t think she was even directing her anger at me.

Looking across the table at Katalina, I watched for any sign that she had provoked my mother. At fourteen, my sister was old enough to attend family meals, but she hadn’t found her place in our world yet. Irini’s first marriage had opened our eyes to the future, and Kat wore her defiance like a badge, daring anyone to challenge her. She openly opposed the system, telling anyone who would listen that she refused to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

My mother would openly laugh at her and say, “Beauty is a commodity to be bought and sold, and you have it in spades.”

“Yeah, Toula. Better late than never.” Kat looked out the corner of her eye, making sure that my mother wasn’t paying attention before she stuck her tongue out at me.

I didn’t bother to retort. It would only encourage Kat to continue, and I didn’t want her to be punished. I could escape to the library at college, but Kat would be stuck within the compound walls with no place to hide from my mother.

We sat in the awkward silence that had settled around the table, waiting for my father to make his appearance. Luckily, he arrived within a few minutes. The food was still hot in the trays, and I relished the smells as the serving staff lifted the covers. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until my stomach growled.

Stifled conversation floated around the table as we pretended to be a normal family. My father asked about school, even though he didn’t really care. I’d just started my second semester, and this was the firsttime he’d ever shown interest. My mother’s gaze constantly darted between the three of us as she tried to intimidate us into submission. She’d already won, and yet, she still continued to fight.

Dinner transitioned into dessert, and I was ready to be done with this charade. I still needed to finish my homework, and it was going to be a late night. However, if I asked to be excused, my father would take it as a sign that I wasn’t able to handle my classes. He had always assumed I would fail, and I wouldn’t give him any reason to pull me from school. It was my family that caused me unnecessary grief. The only way to survive was to lower my eyes to my lap and keep my lips sealed.

My father pulled the napkin from his lap, wiping flakes of honey off of his lips. He sat the cloth next to his plate and reached over to caress Irini’s cheek. The movement caught my eye as I brought my fork up to my mouth. Pausing with my fork in the air, I waited on the edge of my seat for my father’s revelation. There was always a hidden motive, and my father relished being the head of the family, picking which bits of news to reveal for the most affective damage.

“Ilya Volkov came to see me today,” he said, sitting back in his chair, his hands placed over his stomach. There was a smirk forming at the corner of his lips, and whatever he was going to say next would be another twist in our family’s tangled web of secrets.

The name was clearly Russian, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to run through the names of the leading Bratva cell that ruled the eastern end of the city, but my mind drew a blank.

“He asked for your hand, Irini.”

I sat my fork down, no longer interested in the piece of baklava on my dessert plate. There was no doubt in my mind that the Russian had kept his promise. Part of me wanted to giggle and bounce in my chair like a girl with a crush. I wanted to question my father aboutthe meeting.Did he ask about me? What did he say, exactly?Instead, I buried the fantasy and clasped my hands in my lap, my knuckles turning white from the grip.

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