Page 6 of Relentless Refuge

“No, Isa, it’s not like that. You know your father and I were close.” His sincerity is moving, but I’m still not going to kowtow so easily.

“What about me?” I ask, setting the stemware next to Mom’s untouched glass. She whimpers and trembles as she hugs the pillow to her chest, and I look back up at my uncle. It appears both of them have overlooked me entirely, as if they’ve forgotten that I was born or that I exist.

“What about you?” He seems confused, so I spell it out for him.

“Well, I know this Family better than anyone. Better even than Lucco. I know most of Father’s business associates and?—”

“And they’ll never respect you, Isabella. You’re a woman, and you’re barely that. A child cannot lead a revolution.” I hear how he patronizes me with his tone, and I hate it. I’m not a child, and I’m not a feeble woman with a weak mind who can’t handle herself. Father took my advice time and again. He respected my thoughts and opinions, and I won’t stand for anyone looking down on me.

“And an old man can only lead until he dies.” I’m indignant, yet controlled. I walk to the fireplace and look up at the portrait of my family hung above the mantel. In my heart, I know what Father would want. His leadership taught me to be strong in the face of tribulation, and I’d say grief is no exception. Nicky is a good man, the best man maybe to lead, but the Family won’tfully support him. I know that much. He’s not blood, and those in the Family who may ascend to my father’s throne are less than loyal.

“What do you suggest, then? Because I see no other path forward. It’s me or we lose everything.” Nicky says “we” as if he has anything to lose in this matter to begin with. It isn’t his Family or his legacy. It’s my father’s. It’s mine, and it’s time for things to change.

“I will lead this Family,” I tell him, making eye contact with my father’s image above me. His gaze is a mirror of mine which was formed by looking at him, learning from him, watching everything he did, and molding my thoughts and actions around his. I am my father’s daughter, and I can do more for this Family than Nicolo ever would.

“Isabella D’Angelo, you are in no shape to lead,” Mother croons between sobs, but she has no say. Even she isn’t blood. I am blood, the only heir left to my father’s throne. If my cousins and uncles will reject me as the leader, how much more would they reject Nicolo?

“Then I’ll take a husband who will support me, and the two of us will lead.” The idea springs to mind like the first shoots of daffodils in late March when the earth begins to thaw. It blossoms as Uncle Nicky complains and protests. I hear his pacing behind me, but my mind is at work, spinning a new plan, and when he pauses his ranting to take a breath, I cut him off.

Spinning around, I say, “Call Mr. Romano, my father’s ally from New York. Offer him my hand in marriage in exchange for our original alliance. He will be my husband to support me so my family will remain strong and loyal to my father’s legacy, and wewill supply him with the resources and connections he needs to keep his family strong.”

Uncle Nicky looks flustered and in shock, sputtering and gasping. He’s heard of arranged marriages before and he knows it makes sense. He mops his head again and shakes it, and Mother sits up and dabs her face with a tissue she produces from her bra. Both of them look frantic and opposed to my idea. They exchange glances and scowls, but the unspoken language they have between themselves is obvious. Both of them are upset and opposed to my idea.

“Isabella, you can’t make a decision like that right now. You’re thinking foolishly.” Mom grabs the wine and downs it in two gulps. I can see her fear that creases her forehead. She probably thinks I’ll regret it later, that I’m too young to understand what an arranged marriage is or what it means for my future. I don’t care. There’s always divorce if need be.

“Your mother is right. You can’t make a decision for this Family. You’re just a?—”

“I’m what?” I cut Nicky off. “A woman? Have you forgotten that of the three of us in this room, I am the only one who has my father’s blood running through my veins?” I stare them down in a calculated move I’ve seen Father do tons of times. “I am theonlyheir, and I am taking what’s mine. Now, you call the Romanos and sort it out. I expect to be wed by this time next week, and I expect the full support and cooperation of this Family behind me. Arranged marriages happen all the time in this world. Father reserved me for something, some agreement that would benefit this Family, and right now, I know he would approve. Go do it.”

Offering Uncle Nicky a stern expression, I cross my arms over my chest. He looks at my mother, who slumps back to the couch in a fit of crying.

“Giana, you can’t let her do this.” He’s exasperated and flustered. His breaths come in short, choppy movements as he wrings his handkerchief in hand and paces the floor.

“Go, Nicolo, do as she says. She’s her father’s daughter.” And with Mother’s command and a wave of her hand, Nicky retreats to do as I’ve told him. I watch him vanish into the hallway, and I stand there facing away from my mother. Maybe I’ve made a wrong decision, but I can’t very well let one of my cousins lead. I’ve heard how they disagreed with Father’s decisions at times, and given the chance, they’d have double-crossed him soon enough. He ran a tight ship, though, and they feared him.

All I have to do is capitalize on that fear they’ve had for him and make sure they understand that I will do as he has done in the past. They’ll come around, and I will be the leader neither my mother nor my uncle believes I can be.

I only hope Marco Romano will listen to Nicky and agree to this new arrangement. My Family and my father’s legacy depend on it.

5

MARCO

When I got the call from Nicolo expressing Isabella’s thoughts on how to strengthen our alliance, I was floored. I’m still shocked. I knew she was bold and opinionated based on the meeting I had with her father only days before his death, but I had no idea she was this ambitious or determined. She stands beside me facing the judge, and all I can think about is how strong she is to throw away her entire future or any chance at love just to save her Family legacy.

“Do you have rings?” the judge asks. He’s a spry older man in his seventies, with a sparkle of mischief in his eye. He’s on my payroll, which is how I was able to make a call and arrange a time for our nuptials.

I expected Isabella to be nervous or uncomfortable, but she is confident and put together as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket and produces a ring. “My mother’s,” she says, nodding. I pull out the gold band that belonged to my father before he died and silently place it into the judge’s hand, and Isabella’s gaze meets mine. I swear I see her lip twitch, but it’s the only crack in her serious façade.

Her mother, however, is a mess of a human, understandably so. She sits in the back of the room in the stiff wooden chair, sniffling and blowing her nose. It’s the first I’ve met the woman, Giana, I’ve been told, and my second time meeting her brother, Nicolo. The first was when I met with him and Isabella to discuss this new arrangement, my hand in marriage in return for the necessary access to the assets I need. It’s not a bad deal for me at all.

The judge looks up at me over his wire-rimmed glasses and nods his head. “Well, then, I suppose the two of you need to put these on.” He extends his palm which holds the rings and waits for us to take them. I reach for the gold band, but Isabella takes it from him as if this were a real wedding where she puts the ring on my finger. I hide a smirk and follow her lead, taking her ring as she turns to face me.

“So, I just put it on his finger and that’s it?” She licks her bottom lip and stares at my hand, now holding her ring. I study her for the first time since I walked in the room. Her ivory skin is pale, as if she’s anemic, or perhaps it’s just another symptom of the emotion she’s burying inside herself. Her hazel eyes are clouded, further proof of her grieving. The simple blue dress shirt she wears fits snugly, revealing her curves, and I think about undressing her.

“Yes, well the whole pomp and circumstance of a marriage ceremony is never necessary. I just have to sign the paperwork and you’re good to go, but if you want me to spice things up, I can.” He pushes his glasses up on his face, and rather than waving him off, I let Isabella respond. It’s fascinating watching her take charge. There is no doubt in my mind that she will try to lead her Family’s organization, though I doubt she’ll besuccessful. It takes something special to do the job I do, the job she covets.

“Oh, yes…” She stutters and sighs, causing her chest to rise and fall and the faint hint of cleavage to be seen in the dip of her neckline. It’s a tantalizing view, one I hope to have more of eventually. It’s something we haven’t discussed yet, how personal this arrangement will be, but those talks will happen soon enough.

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