Page 3 of Cruel Existence

“Ciro and Joey will be assigned to you twenty-four seven.”

“Who?”

His eyes narrowed. “Your new detail.”

“Oh, right.” I didn’t want to know their names. It made it easier when I defied their orders.

My father continued with the outline of my punishment. “The only social engagements you are allowed to attend are the ones I decide you attend.”

I bit my lip.

“Your social media accounts will be stripped tonight. I’ve already called in IT to handle it.”

“You can’t do that,” I protested. “I didn’t post any of them on my pages.”

“But you were in the photos the other families’ kids posted. You need to learn how to walk through this city like a ghost. The Capos of Philly aren’t here to protect you.”

“A ghost or a prisoner?” I whispered.

My father rounded his desk and leaned over me. He had never struck me, but I always wondered how close he had been to slapping me across the face. Just one comment. One rude question. I was always within a breath of being on the receiving end of his open palm.

“You are the daughter of Lorenzo Amato. You will learn what that means. If I have to lock you in your room like a prisoner, I will do it. You are not a prisoner,yet.”

The words made my skin break out with cool perspiration. I could feel it on the back of my neck and on my stomach. I didn’t want him to know.

“Is that all?” I dared to ask a question.

“No,” he growled.

My stomach churned uneasily. I knew whatever he said next would not be pleasant.

“There’s one more thing. I made a decision when you snuck out of the house last night. I decision that will benefit the family and you.”

I shook my head. “No. No. No. Don’t say it.”

He tilted his head sideways as if a viper was the one controlling his neck. “The only way to get you under control is to find your husband. The prominent families here might thinktwice after your tawdry stunt, but after some time I believe I can convince them our family name is more benefit than detriment. No thanks to you and your pool table dancing.”

“I’m not getting married,” I seethed.

“We’ll see about that.” He waved his hand toward the door, dismissing me. “Tell Ciro you’re going to your room for the rest of the day. You look tired.”

I nodded as I squeezed between my father and the chair, but not before his fingers dug into the upper part of my arm.

“This is your only warning, Amara.”

“I understand.”

His fingers unwound, and I knew there would be indentations in my skin.

I tugged on the heavy door into the hallway. The maid was polishing a set of silver candlesticks.

“Mr. Martin dropped a cup,” I informed her. “There’s broken glass on the floor.”

“Oh, yes. I’ll get it.” She tucked the polishing cloth in the front of her apron and walked briskly to the supply closet.

I absently turned to see one of the two suits only inches from me. “Which one are you? Ciro or Joey?” I asked.

“Ciro,” he answered.

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