Page 5 of Claimed By Him

The stupid soldiers my father stationed around the house were so busy with their little card games and cigar-puffing that they hadn’t seen me literally walk out of the kitchen door, heels in hand, and run for the fence line. There was a large, very convenient oak tree at the perimeter that I’d learned two years ago was the perfect escape route.

Since then, we’d been busting me out pretty much every weekend and sneaking me back in—using my friends to help push me back over the fence. The soldiers around the house were always asleep by the time I came home in the early hours of the morning. The ones at the gatehouse? They were wide awake, but I had this oak tree to rely on.

I just had to make sure I was back before 5 a.m. when Zia Maria would get up to begin her breakfast preparations, and I couldn’t sneak in through the kitchen anymore.

But for now, the night was ours! We hollered and swerved across the road as the music pumped, and we sang at the top of our lungs. The party was at a mansion owned by the parents of a boy I’d gone to school with. From my freshman year on, I was homeschooled by a tutor, but I still kept up with all my friends from middle school and joined in their parties whenever I could.

“Here.” Ari reached behind her seat and pulled out a bottle of vodka. “Drink up, hun!”

“Yes, please!” I tipped the bottle and took a sip, pulling my face, and gagging at the taste. “I’ll never get used to that.” I shook my head. “Where’s the cranberry juice?”

“It’s in the back; we can worry about that later.” She waved a hand before taking the bottle and sipping the vodka while driving at 50 miles per hour.

When we arrived, there were kids walking up the street and parents in shiny expensive cars dropping their teens off. Then, of course, the long line of parked cars owned by the rest of the kids—Mercedes, Jaguars, Porsches, Land Rovers, and even a Tesla. Ari added her Audi to the mix, and we stepped out.

I wore a skintight, strapless minidress in bright magenta-pink. Classic, if you ask me. My pink heels had strings that wrapped around my tanned calves, giving my long legs some character. Lastly, I straightened my waist-length dark brown hair and left it hanging loose, flicking it back over my shoulder when I emerged from the car.

Ari wore a skintight blue jumpsuit; together, I was willing to bet we were the hottest chicks at the party.

The bass pumped, sending vibrations through the windowpanes of the house. Teens were everywhere in little groups, laughing, smoking, and drinking together. We strolled in and sent out small smiles to anyone who greeted us, which was most of the guest list.

“There’s my two girlfriends!” Jason, the rich kid who threw the party, drunkenly appeared between us, lifted his arms, and hung them over our shoulders.

“Um, no,” I said, dropping his arm like I was brushing a bug from my shoulder.

Ari didn’t mind since she’d had a crush on him for years. I let the two of them disappear, poured myself a drink, and watched the crowd dancing in the vast, darkened living room. The next moment, a face popped out of the crowd that I recognized.

“OMG, Freddie!”

It was my fiancé, Frederico Rossi. Yes, our fathers prearranged our union from the moment I was born. We weren’t actually together, though. In fact, I hardly ever saw him, and we didn’t always have much to talk about, but it was nice seeing him outside of the mafia context for once.

“Is that my gorgeous betrothed?” He stalked out of the crowd, seemingly also drunk as a skunk. He opened his arms and hugged me, swaying off balance. “Fiona! I’m so glad you’re here!”

He was 19 and living out his teen years to the best of his ability. He wasn’t always the life of the party necessarily, but he loved to drink and smoke a lot of weed. I attributed that to the harsh expectations of having a don as a father and assumed Frederico was trying to get his fun in before he had to become an all-serious, business-only mafia man.

I felt tied to him in that way, relieved that at least the man I was going to marry would understand the need for freedom and social interaction beyond our fucked-up families. I was also relieved that he was a very handsome Italian American man. I’d heard that my brothers were the cream of the crop, the two hottest guys in the New York Italian community, but obviously, I saw it differently.

Freddie was a perfect specimen, ripped and tanned, pretty-faced while still slightly rugged in his own way. I loved that he was always clean and moisturized, too. He took pride in his body just as I did, and so we were a pretty perfect match. It didn’t matter that we weren’t in love; arranged marriages weren’t about that. They were a type of business partnership, and we were like-minded people.

“Come on, dance with me!” He began pulling me to the center of the room, so I quickly downed my drink and threw the plastic cup back onto the table.

Feeling warm from the liquor, I let my body be free. Frederico turned me around, pulled my back against his chest, and set his hands on my hips while I swayed them around sexily. His breath washed over my shoulder and my neck, and I lifted my hands to push my fingers into his unruly, curly brown hair behind me.

At my prime age of 17, I was ready to lose my virginity. Ari lost hers two years ago but of course, I had a couple of rules to live by that forced me to wait. I couldn’t risk sleeping with any random guy, because firstly, I was better than that, and secondly, if my father or brothers found out, I had no doubt they would kill the guy. Literally.

But Frederico? Surely they would let that slide since he was the one I was promised to. That was if they ever found out. If it happened at a party like this, how could they? We were so blended into the crowd full of horny teenagers, no one would even notice us.

I turned back around and slid my hands over his chest, churning my body to the music. Freddie held my waist and danced with his leg between mine. His eyes were bloodshot and drooping from the weed, and his smile grew happily when I moved in closer, pressing my body against his.

Finally, I slid my hands up his neck and captured his head in my hands, then pulled him down to kiss me. Our lips locked tentatively, as though neither of us was entirely sure this was what we wanted. But the music, alcohol, and teenage hormones pumping through our bodies egged us on. I slid my lips across his teasingly, and he pushed decisively forward, pressing his lips to my mouth.

My long fingernails trailed up his neck and played with the hair on the back of his head. His hands gripped my hips and slid around to my ass, feeling the firm shape, and then pulling me harder against him. When I felt the tip of his tongue emerge, I opened my mouth to him, and we swirled our tongues together, indulging in the smooth, warm sensations.

I felt his thigh press between my legs, and I gasped at the hot feeling of my quickly rising libido. Slowly grinding myself against him, I realized this was it. I was horny, I was with Frederico, and I wanted him.

So, as I’d seen my friends do before, I pulled away and took his hand, smiling wickedly. A small frown curved his eyebrow, but I was sure he caught my drift when I turned around and headed for the stairs, pulling him along with me. I found an empty bedroom and pulled him inside, closing the door and locking it.

When I turned around, Freddie had sat down on the bed, running a hand over his face as if to sober up.

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