Page 29 of Cruel Existence

The saxophone hit a high note. I felt the shudder carry down my spine and to my ankles. “We aren’t on equal ground. You have a say in your future. I’m no different than Katya. You realize that, don’t you? I don’t get to choose. You can’t protect me from whomever my father chooses to sell me to.”

There was a hint of pain in his eyes and then a flicker of determination. “What if we could change that?”

I held my breath, waiting for him to answer my prayers. I’d never accepted that I didn’t get to choose my fate. I’d fought it since the day I discovered I was an asset to my father. A bartering tool. A dowry that he would pawn to cash in on a new business or set up a partnership.

“Maybe it’s time I tell you a story about how my family works. About how Italians run their mafia families. Their daughters.”

He withdrew his hand from my leg and sat back. “I’m listening.” His angular jaw was set in a hard line.

“I was fifteen when we attended my cousin Gigi’s wedding. I was a bridesmaid. I was too old to be a flower girl. Tooyoung to be responsible for any bride duties. It was an awkward age to be in the wedding party. And I hated it.”

He huffed. “I’m a grown man and I hate it now.”

“The girls took turns fluffing Gigi’s dress in the foyer of the cathedral. It was a huge Catholic Philadelphia wedding. For a second, I held her bouquet. The flower girls had been ushered out. The photographer took pictures. Her father strolled toward her, my uncle, my father’s brother.” I tried to paint the full picture for Luka so he knew this was an intrinsic family dynamic.

“I tried to hand the bouquet back to Gigi, but she was pleading with my uncle. She didn’t want to marry Danny. He was nice enough, but she hated his big nose. He wasn’t funny. He didn’t like dogs. I tried to step away, but I was stuck with the bouquet. My uncle’s cheeks turned red, and he raised his hand. I thought for a second he was going to slap Gigi, but he lowered it when she extended her hands for the flowers. It was as if he suddenly realized I was there.” I swallowed hard. The memory of that moment flooded back to me as if I were still in the cathedral entrance.

“He didn’t hit her, did he?” Luka asked.

“No, but I was as humiliated as she was. I whispered to her, but I didn’t know what to say. I was only a teenager. So, I just told her she looked beautiful. It was all I could think of before I was tossed through the doors and expected to walk down the aisle ahead of her to organ music.”

“That’s all you could do. Nothing else. You were a bridesmaid.”

My eyes met his. I wanted him to understand there was moreto this. It was a tiny moment that painted a picture of generations of women in my family.

“That night after the reception, I asked my father if he knew Gigi didn’t want to marry Danny. I asked him if he knew Uncle Gio forced her into it. He loosened his tie and laughed at me. He told me it was a good business deal for Gio. It didn’t matter what Gigi thought of Danny. She was lucky anyone married her. That was my father’s answer to me. At fifteen,” I emphasized.

“There was nothing for you to do. Nothing.” His eyes were fierce. It took another breath before I could keep going.

“I didn’t sleep that night. I tried not to think about my cousin on her way to Rome for her honeymoon, but she was all I could think about. I didn’t want a Danny. I didn’t want a honeymoon in Italy. I didn’t want any of the things that were ahead of me. Do you get what I’m trying to tell you, Luka?”

He downed the rest of his drink. “I don’t know if you should have told me.”

I blinked. “I-I’m sorry. I should go.” I began to push back from the seat.

His hand covered mine, stroking my knuckles. “Sit.”

Twelve

AMARA

Achill coated my skin when Luka spoke to me that way. I didn’t dare move a muscle.

“Let me explain.” His tone softened.

I wasn’t about to interrupt him. I wanted to know what could soothe this sudden shift between us. His chair slid closer to mine. He was so close I could feel his breath against my cheek. Shit. My entire body was alive. He consumed me with fear. With excitement. Lust.

“I’ve watched Katya the last few months,” he explained. “Your story about your cousin, Gigi sounds eerily similar.” That’s when I saw what it was in his eyes, I had mistaken for some type of anger toward me. It was sadness.

“And you aren’t happy about it?” I whispered.

His lips moved closer to my ear, barely grazing my jawline. “No, not one ounce of fucking joy.”

I swallowed. “What can you do?”

He pulled both my hands into his. “I wait. I rise to the top. I take my father’s place one day. I make changes for my sister. But right now, I’m training to be the Sovietnik. Do you know what that is?”

I shook my head. All the Russian words were dizzying. I was going to have to study up quickly.

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