Page 2 of Broken Saint

I found my father at his desk, bent over some paperwork as he hastily scribbled something across them with his pen.

He also wasn't alone. Another man about my father's age that I did not recognize sat at his desk. My mother stood by his side. She didn't look at me as I entered, instead, she watched my father. Always the devoted wife.

"Father." I had a difficult time making that word come out of my mouth. Once upon a time, he had been simply Daddy, and it still stung that my childhood connection with the man I'd clung to had been broken.

It had happened at thirteen. I'd been with a group of my friends at the mall, shopping and laughing. I don't even know why I did it. I had money in my purse. A credit card from my mother. But there had been something about the way the saleswoman had sneered at me when I'd inquired about the cost of the tube of lip gloss I coveted. I couldn't even remember now what she'd said. I only remembered thinking how outrageous a number it had been. I'd dropped it on the counter and started to walk away.

The woman behind the counter however, had said something snarky about me wasting her time and turned away to what she probably thought would be a better customer. I'd gotten so mad at her attitude that I'd turned back before I realized and swiped that lip gloss from the counter and dropped it into my bag.

Satisfaction and triumph had filled me as I headed back to my friends near the door. It wasn't until someone grabbed my arm I'd realized the mistake I'd made.

"Miss, you need to come with me."

Panic seized me then, much like it did now, as my father lifted his head, a frown marring his good looks. At age forty-nine he didn't yet show any signs of aging other than a few fine lines around his eyes and mouth. However, unlike my mother, who smiled on occasion, he never looked anything but serious.

I don't know why I expected kindness from him now. He'd proven that night, when Francisco threatened to cut my fingers off, that his love for me had limits.

"Catherine." He returned my greeting as coldly as I had greeted him. "Take a seat."

My stomach twisted further as I moved to the only empty chair in front of his desk and did as told. I figured the less resistance I displayed, the quicker he would get this over. I was sure he had to get back to work, and I would be nothing more than a brief diversion.

"Now that you're an adult, it's time for you to step up for this family. You have a duty and it's time to be fulfilled."

My duty? What the hell was he talking about?

Since when did he allow a woman, even family, within ten feet of his business?

"What do you mean?" I tried to keep my voice even, but it wasn't easy. The unease in my stomach had grown exponentially, and I didn't know how to react.

"Your duty as my daughter. I have just struck a generous deal for your hand with Arnald Onofrio and I've called you here to make it official. While I know it seems sudden to you, you should know that I have taken the utmost care to get the best deal for you that I could, all things considered. So tonight, you are to become the wife of Arnald."

"Wife," I choked. He couldn't possibly mean what it sounded like. No way. "I don't understand."

He looked up from the paperwork he had returned to and narrowed his eyes. "Don't play coy with me, Catherine. I didn't raise a stupid child."

How the hell would you know?I wanted to yell. He hadn't raised shit. My mother took care of everything for him. Well, that wasn't entirely true. My father had taught me lessons in intolerance and hatred. The latter, I was feeling more than ever before.

"You expect me to get married? Right now? I'm in the middle of a party with all my friends from school."

"This is what you were raised to do. So yes, you will be getting married right now. I made sure your mother was present so you wouldn't feel so overwhelmed, and she was gracious enough to make all the arrangements."

"Overwhelmed? Is that some kind of joke?

"I never joke. Especially not about business matters. I'll admit, I hadn't planned to do this quite yet, but as it turns out, my virgin daughter is far more valuable than I thought. Your mother has already taken the liberty of packing up your things and after the ceremony and formal consummation ritual, you and your new husband are headed to the airport."

"He is taking you to Italy for your honeymoon. Isn't that exciting?" My mother injected.

My head was spinning faster the more my father talked. Although I did notice that the man sitting next to me, my proposed future husband, had yet to utter a word. I turned to look at him, noticing first the deep scowl etched into his face. For some reason he looked no happier than I did over all of this.

I couldn't speak.I mean, I opened my mouth and attempted to push words out, but they wouldn't come. Shock had taken over.

I wanted to vomit.

Not that I would give him the satisfaction.

My father was out of his mind. He had to be. But why was my mother just standing there? Even that question wouldn't come out.

I blinked a couple of times, hoping that somehow this really was a dream, but nothing changed. My father continued to pen words without sparing me another glance.

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