Page 31 of As Angels Sin

“Yes. Haven’t you realized it yet, Fiametta?” He takes a step forward. I take one back, to keep my distance from him.

Not this again. After all the thrills I’ve gone through with Crue’s return to New York, I can’t handle Tomas’s attempts at touching me. I’ve managed to fend them off for a long time, with Crue’s help at times, but things are different now. We’re supposed to marry, and Father has shown his disinterest in meddling with our affairs.

I don’t think I’m going to get off as easily this time.

“What?” I spit, feeling my face contort in disgust.

“All you are is a bitch in heat. A tool to breed so that your daddy’s empire can stay in the family.” He stops, midway, trapping me between the window and the door. He blocks my only escape route, unless I want to take a page from Crue’s book and jump out of the window.

“Don’t kid yourself that any of this is some valiant effort from your father to keep you safe. You were born a woman. You’rethe wrong gender. You’re worth is tied to your twat, and Lorenzo knows it.”

For the longest time, I would have believed Tomas. My blood would have run cold as he spoke those vile words, but my heart would have shattered into a thousand, tiny pieces. But the day Father expressed his concerns for the future —his and mine — my views changed.

Father isn’t perfect, especially not as a parent, but he has tried. His simple gesture of sitting me down, staying calm and speaking the words I’ve longed to hear for so many years, made me realize that Father isn’t the monster I’d always believed him to be. He cares in his own, special way. And I’m sure that after hearing this, he’ll see the error in his judgment in handing me over to Tomas.

“Then let’s see what Father has to say about it,” I say, trying to scare him. Father’s going to hear all about it, but I’d prefer it not to be this early in the morning.

“Yes, let’s.” Tomas leaps forward and latches onto my upper arm. Without giving me a moment to think or react, he starts dragging me toward the door and then through the halls toward Father’s office.

He pauses briefly when we come across a Napoli soldier. He shifts his cruel eyes to me, and then to the man, before speaking. “It’s time. Get ready.”

“How will we know, when?”

“Oh, you’ll know,” Tomas says, and starts pulling me along again.

We burst through Father’s door without knocking. He is already behind his desk, scanning a thick manilla folder.

“Tomas? Fia? What’s the meaning of this?” His eyes narrow and his face hardens.

“Go on, tell him,” Tomas uses his leverage on my arm to throw me in Father’s direction. I stumble forward, but catch myself before I topple over.

Father’s eyes shift to me and burning fury bubbles in them. Is it directed at Tomas or me? I can’t tell. With that thought comes my first pang of doubt that Tomas was being sincere in my room. Maybe Father and my heartfelt moment overlooking the evening sky was an act of remorse, rather than love.

I swallow back my tears, doing my best to match the confidence I had when I was fighting against Tomas.

“He said you regret having a daughter.”

Father’s features soften, and a hint of sadness appears amongst the anger.

“No. Not that. The other thing,” Tomas sighs.

“Our marriage is meant to give you an heir to take over the clan.” I hang my head, ashamed and embarrassed.

“Closer, but no, that’s not what I said,” Tomas hisses, “I called you a fuck-bitch who’s only purpose is for breeding,” He sounds way too happy saying such vile things in front of Father.

Father smashes both his fists into his desk and jumps to his feet. His red-faced fury makes the graying hairs atop his head stand out more than I’ve ever noticed before.

“You will watch your tongue in my home, and especially toward my daughter, Tomas,” Father shouts, and with that I let go of my worries about him being disingenuous. “You’re not a part of my family, yet. You’re a soldier whose loyalty is in question. Who has grown fat and lazy on his own self-serving greed.”

“Take a look at your own belly, Lorenzo,” Tomas snickers. I snap my head in his direction. He’s never been so brazenly disrespectful to my father to his face. This can’t be good. “Don’t talk to me aboutfat and lazy, when you’ve gone soft around the edges, and soft in your conquest of this city.”

“Let me show you how soft I’ve gone.”

It happens in slow motion. Father starts his threat while ripping open a desk drawer, where no doubt he has a gun lying. Tomas’s grin widens and he dips a hand behind his back, returning with a silver steel revolver in his grip. When I see it glint in the rays of the first morning light, I swear that my soul leaves my body and floats away into a distant corner, from where it can just watch the scene play out.

Do something.

Like what? Run in front of a bullet and get myself killed? No, there’s nothing I can do but watch with a cold grip of fear clenching my throat shut.

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