Page 36 of Cruel Existence

I gritted my teeth at his blatant reference to my Russian heritage.

“No, not at all. But since you’re new, you might not realize how things work. In Philadelphia, it’s possible you were the Dmitry Novikov of the city. If you wanted something, you could have it. That’s not true here.” I finished the bourbon and placed the empty glass on the corner of his desk. “The quicker you learn how the Novikov organization runs the city, the quicker you’ll be able to have a successful business here. Otherwise, you won’t last and I’m afraid you’ll be asked to leave. The original families respect the traditions that exist. They respect our wishes.” I couldn’t see where any of my words had affected him.

“But you didn’t come here for me. You came because of Amara. You like my daughter?”

I didn’t like the way he had suddenly changed the direction of our conversation. “Yes. I do. We’ve had a good time together. She is smart. Interesting. Funny.”

“How old are you?” he asked.

“Twenty-eight.”

“A little older than her. Are you sure you’re not too old for her?” It was the second time today our age difference had been called into question.

“No. Definitely not too old, sir,” I responded. She was my mental equal, although I knew I could be her teacher in other ways.

“Do you have any children?” he pried. “Are you blessed as a father yet?”

I shook my head. “No, why?” I cleared my throat. The line of questioning was becoming uncomfortable.

“I want that hotel.” His eyes bore into mine.

This felt like whiplash. “I’m trying to tell you as nicely as I can, that’s not going to be possible.” There were a lot of things that would go wrong very quickly for Lorenzo if he tried to hold on to a property my father needed.

“You can have her.”

“Excuse me?” I balked for the first time since I had sat across from him. “Who?”

He pinched his lips together. “You like her. I’m sure I know what you were doing in the cabana. You’re attracted to her. She’s young and you can mold her however you like. You can have Amara in exchange for the hotel. And I think we couldmake a few other arrangements to benefit both families. It would be unique. A different kind of contract.”

I instantly broke out in a cold sweat. What the fuck? I didn’t want to barter a marriage. I didn’t come here to negotiate a trade. Hell, I’d charm him into letting me take her on a date, not spending a life together. I didn’t wait for him to ask. I grabbed the decanter and poured myself a second drink. I refilled Lorenzo’s in the process.

“What do you think? Tell your father I’d like to set it up. We can have a family dinner. I think that would be nice. I’ll host. Let’s say next week.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper, but I couldn’t focus.

“That is not how it works here. She’s not Russian.” My jaw was locked firmly in place. I didn’t know why that was the first fucking thing I said in response.

I paced in the office, letting the bourbon burn my throat and make every thought I had fuzzier than the last. There had to be a way to work this. Barter freedom for Amara. Let her choose me, not be forced on me. This fucking hotel. The damn Vieux Carre.

She didn’t want to be contractually obligated to marry any man. She had made it clear she already hated her future husband. I couldn’t let that man be me. She would hate me forever.

“Here.” He shoved the letter toward me. “Take it. It’s for your father.”

I’d never had nerves like this. The paper shook in my hand.

“I think you would be a good match for her. You’ll take care of her. There’s plenty of money. I saw how she looked at you. It’s a good match. No need for Dmitry and I to be rivals when wecould be family. That’s how we Italians do it.” He winked at me as if he had figured out the golden rule to the mafia underworld and I was a mere underling.

I turned my head from side to side absently without thinking about what I was answering. “I can’t give this to my father. He won’t accept it. He won’t accept her. Or a marriage to an Italian mob family. It’s impossible.”

“You will give it to him.” He shoved his hands in my pockets. “It solves all our problems.”

“Why do you think that I would hand him something I don’t agree with?” I folded the paper and placed it in the front of my jacket. My second bourbon was empty. “I’m his Sovietnik,” I hissed. “I advisehim. Not the other way around. This is not a good match.”

“If you don’t give the offer for the marriage contract to him, I’ll tell Amara that you rejected her. That you wanted nothing to do with her and that her Italian blood disgusted you.”

Mother fucker.

“You can’t.” What he was trying to do was more manipulative than my own father.

“I will. I’ll tell her you tore up the offer to marry her. That you spit in my face. Ciro will offer the same account.” He leaned across the desk. “Want to test me?”

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