Page 18 of Vow of Silence

Papa looks up from the device with a sigh. “You’re not ten, Nastasya. Do as you’re told.”

Aleksy stands behind my father, to the right. He doesn’t look my way, but the tension in his jaw says he doesn’t like the conflict either.

Icoulddo as I’m told, but “No. I’m not ten.” I fold my arms across my plain sweatshirt. “I’m an adult, Papa, and I can decide when I need to eat.”

My father slams his palm flat on the table and straightens. “Whendidyou last eat?”

I open my mouth to answer, yet he cuts me off.

“Arealmeal, Nastasya. Not the bullshit you sneak out of the kitchen.”

“Yesterday.” I swallow. I could almost guarantee I know where he heads with this.

“Yesterday.” He nods. “And what did Marcus hear you do this morning?”

I bristle at the mention of theboyevikhe stationed at my door overnight. “I don’t know. What did he hear?” The guy should have heard nothing if he minded his goddamn business.

“Yourmealdidn’t stay in your gut, did it?” Papa lifts one eyebrow and leers with that fucking smirk that tells me he knows he’s won the round. “Are you not hungry,moya malen’kaya roza?”

I bristle at the way he twists his term of endearment for me. “I’ve lost my appetite.”

“Death is permanent,” he states flatly, reaching for the remainder of his coffee. “Starving yourself does Caroline no favors.”

“I didn’t presume it did.” I just don’t feel the need to eat. “Is there anything else?” I set my hands on the lip of the table to indicate I’m ready to go.

He lowers the sleek glass mug. “There is, actually.” His fingers caress the brass handle.

I place my arms in their earlier position and sigh.

“Your cousin, Lana, will be here later to help you plan for the wedding.”

“Excuse me?” Why that bitch? And since when did this archaic agreement have a date? “How on earth do I plan for the event when I don’t know whathewants?”

“What that Italian fucker wants is of no consequence.” Papa takes a final swig of his drink, his upper lip curled in a sneer as he does. “The bride decides. Am I right?”

“Benito and I haven’t had the opportunity to speak about what you and Gennaro decided yet, but you expect me to plan our big day. What the fuck happened to courtship? A lengthyengagement?” I might not be able to avoid the inevitable, but I sure as shit can delay it until I feel more comfortable with the idea.

Papa chuckles, the sound bouncing off the art-lined walls of the long, crimson-painted room. “Courtship? We aren’t in the eighteenth century, my girl.”

“Then why marry me off like a goddamn asset?”

The legs of his chair scrape across the polished floorboards, Papa’s palms flat on the table’s surface. “You are my daughter,” he roars. “Therefore, youaremy asset.”

Aleksy shifts his weight between his polished black boots.

I flick my gaze from his spy to my father’s enraged scowl. “To infer you own me,” I state low and level, “assumes that I’m your property—your slave.” I rise and match his stance as I growl, “I am nobody’s slave.” I push my chair back and turn to leave.

“Take a single step through that door, and the De Santis name will be the only one that brings with it the promise of a home to return to.”

My father’s threat stills me where I stand two steps from the table.

“How long do you expect to survive without the protection your name—myname—provides?”

“The name you’ve dealt away,” I snap, glaring at the floor to my side. “How long do you expect me to survive in the house of my enemy?”

“That’s entirely up to you.”

I whirl on the asshole and stride the length of the dark oak dining table. “You seriously threaten my life? All because I resent you taking away my free will?”

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