Page 81 of Mafia Captor

A kind man. A gentle man.

Now, as strangers surround me, preparing me for what should be the happiest day of my life, I find myself swallowing back bitter tears. I watch them in the mirror as they curl my dark hair, blush my cheeks, and pin my veil into place, smiling and laughing with one another as they work.

After all, a wedding in the family is a joyous occasion.

I take in my reflection. Other than the flashing terror behind my hazel eyes, I’m the picture perfect bride. They’ve thought of everything, no detail has been overlooked.

He’sthought of everything.

My keeper, my dark king. And by the end of this day, my husband.

I will be his.

His will be done.

The youngest member of his staff, seventeen year old Esme, hovers at my side. She’s eight years my junior, impulsive and flighty, but there’s a deep wisdom that resides within her. With her light hair and contrasting dark eyes, they call herperla neara, the black pearl. She longs to please, to prove her place in the ranks. She can read this unhappiness in my face and she fears she’s the one who’s put it there.

Placing a birdlike, fluttering hand on my shoulder, she says, “Miss Felicity? Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Catching her worried eyes in the mirror, I try to reassure her with a smile. It comes out forced and tight. My voice breaks as I speak. “No, my darling. You’ve done everything perfectly. Thank you.”

Her face etched with concern, she gives me a timid nod. I’ve noticed she can be a bit distracted and seems somewhat boy crazy, but now, sensing my need to be alone, she gathers the other women, shooing them out the door. For someone so young, she’s extremely perceptive and helpful.

I tuck the thought in the back of my mind. Perhaps Esme will be of assistance when I plan my inevitable escape. Because though I may be legally bound to this man in a few short hours, there’s no way in hell I’m staying here.

Where will I go?

I’ve no idea.

And to complicate matters, I must save my father as well, even though he was the one who put me in this hell. After borrowing money from the Russo family that he couldn’t pay back he sold the only thing he had left of value.

Me.

His only child. His precious daughter.

There’s only one thing I take solace in on this day. Marrying this man means my father will live out his days in safety. And thanks to my husband gifting my father a monthly stipend, he won’t be living in the streets.

My groom is generous with his wealth to those who are tied to him. For that, I cannot fault him.

Vincenzo Russo.

I’ve heard his name plenty of times, but never seen the man in person. Everyone calls him Vincent. Sophia, the matronly woman who’s been employed by his family all her life tells me his name means to win, to conquer.

And he does. In every avenue of his life. He always gets what he wants.

And he wanted me.

Apparently, a few months ago, he visited my father’s shop before we had to close it down due to money troubles from Dad’s gambling addictions. I must have made an impression because he took me for his own, plucking me from the store, like a can of dry goods from the shelf.

I’ve racked my brain, wondering what possessed him to chooseme.Surely there were other girls whose fathers were indebted to him? Girls more beautiful, or interesting. Girls who longed to be the queen of the mafia, to live the lavish lifestyle he offers.

Why choose me?

As a shy bookworm, I often kept my nose stuck in the pages of a fairytale as I worked the counter at my father’s shop on the main street in the village. I’d often spent lonely afternoons gazing upon, watching the members of the Russo family as they made their way home from the village to their chateau in little clusters.Talking. Laughing. Happy.I’d envied them their lives.

The irony grows bitter in my mouth.

Sophia briskly enters the room, shuffling over to my side, her generous, floral-covered hips pressing against my arm. “Get up,il mio amore, my love. It’s time.”

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