Page 23 of Married With Malice

Instead, Rocco starts to look bored. “You’re coming with me to talk to your father and that’s fucking final.”

I’m sure my glare isn’t at all intimidating but aside from a gym bag, it’s all I’ve got. “Sure, I’ll give him five minutes. But right now if you don’t get your grubby hands off me I’m going to scream loud enough to shatter the windows.”

Rocco rolls his eyes and releases my arm. On the trek through the hospital hallways, across the lobby and out the door, he walks exactly one step behind me to make sure I don’t run off.

My father waits in the backseat of the vintage Rolls Royce that carried me to my wedding. The car idles in an awkward spot just beyond the emergency entrance and is being guarded by two shadowy men. The backseat door is held open and I duck inside to sit beside my father.

The look on his face is simultaneously terrifying and giggle-worthy. It’s identical to the one he wore when he saw me in my wedding dress earlier. If I were to suddenly shrink to the size of a bug, I’m sure he’d enjoy squashing me under his shoe.

“Are you coming in to see Sabrina?” I ask. “She’ll be out of surgery any minute.”

He takes his time about speaking. It’s a tactic on his part. He thinks long pauses make his words carry more weight than they really do.

“Where is your husband, Annalisa?”

“I don’t know. Check the nearest sewer.”

He exhales noisily. “A man shouldn’t have to sleep alone on his wedding night.”

“He’ll live. And Luca is free to find other company if he’s lonely. Are we done now?”

My father’s grim, unblinking stare probably works much better on mafia underlings. “Your little rebellion is at an end.”

“You should work on your material, Daddy. That sounded so much more convincing when Darth Vader said it.”

The lighting is poor back here and half his face is hidden in the shadows but I’m sure he’s turning crimson with rage.

“Listen to me carefully. Because of your sister’s emergency, you’ll be allowed to remain here tonight. But tomorrow you are leaving on your honeymoon with your husband. The plane will be ready to depart at three. You will be on it. By the time you get back from your honeymoon, this attitude of yours will have gone through a miraculous adjustment and you’ll be ready to settle into married life. No more wasting your time with working. Your only job is to be a wife.”

“I said I’d marry him. And I did. I never agreed to more than that.”

He leans in and narrows his eyes. “Luca is your husband now. And you’re going to please him in all the ways a woman is supposed to please a man.”

Earlier, I assumed no parental conversation could possibly be more appalling than my mother’s bloody sheets lecture.

How wrong I was.

While my tongue still struggles to unlock the most succinct, profanity-riddled refusal imaginable, my father adds one more horrifying requirement.

“And I expect you to be a mother to Luca’s sons.My grandsons.” He pauses and his lip curls with disgust. “Believe me, you would have been my last choice to continue the family legacy, but the deal stands and you’re going to honor it.”

“Go to hell,” I blurt out without thinking. “I never signed up to be a breeding cow.”

He’s so tempted to hit me. I know he is. I see the way his fat fist curls and I hear when his breathing quickens.

The fact that I now have a husband who is expecting to see me tomorrow, a husband who would surely have questions if I’m delivered with a black eye, leaves me feeling weirdly grateful for Luca’s existence.

But I’m sure the feeling will pass.

The glass doors to the ER open and Daisy springs outside. She’s holding hands with Big Man Bowie. After a quick look around, she recognizes our father’s car and comes bounding over alone.

She’s smiling as my father lowers the window. “Sabrina’s awake. She’ll be wheeled to her room soon and then we can see her.”

“That’s great news,” my father says with his eyes on me.

Daisy notes the tension in the car and her smile drops. “Anni, are you coming?”

“In a minute,” I tell her. “I’ll meet you inside.”

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