Page 102 of Merciless Desires

I go to snatch the envelope, but he pulls back. “What?”

“If you leave, you can never come back. Your father will kill you for your disloyalty.”

A heavy truth that I’ve considered. I swallow, but keep my head held high. “My leaving and ruining that Boston alliance benefits you.”

“It certainly does.” He drops the envelope and takes out a pack of unfiltered cigarettes.

I have no choice but to bend down and pick it up. It’s not as heavy as I thought. After digging through the envelope, I look up at his oily forehead filled with harsh lines. “There’s not enough money in here.”

He closes his lips around a cigarette. “Suck my cock first, mia cara, and I will give you more.”

“Eat shit, Caruso.” I spin to walk away but gasp when he yanks my hair and forces me to stop.

The hair on the back of my neck prickles as he leans in close. “If I see you in Astoria again, I will have you killed.”

He thinks I’ll tell Papa he helped me, which I will if I get dragged back here and forced down that aisle. I’ll snitch like a starving rat. Which is not too off from what I feel like right now.

“No problem.” I shove Dante’s grimy hands off me.

How a sweet girl like his niece, Isabella, came from his loins astonishes me.

“You leaving is going to make life a living hell around here.” He flicks his cigarette to the frozen ground and pulverizes it with a shoe heel.

“I trust you and your don have the proper army to protect yourselves.” I leave Dante Caruso in his cloud of cigarette smoke and join the gala, shaking the whole time.

Papa will look for me, but he’ll never find me.

I make a last-ditch effort to reason with him. When that ends in a bitter argument, I storm away from his office.

After he takes off in that rusty Town Car with Maksim, his enforcer, for what I know will be hours, I decide it’s time to leave. I have a small window of opportunity that will vanish when the guards return. They follow him to the end of the road and leave the gate unmanned for around ten minutes, ensuring he doesn’t get ambushed on the main road.

“What are you doing?” Katya asks me from my open door.

“I’m leaving,” I choke out, shoving clothes into a suitcase. “I hate him.”

“Who? Who do you hate?”

I turn my back to her and continue packing, considering if it’s worth burdening my little sister with information that, if she doesn’t keep quiet about, could harm her.

I glance over my shoulder. “Papa.”

“What did he do?” she asks, her eyes drifting out my window where workers are finally getting rid of that awful, smelly tent Papa had put up for my 21st birthday party a week ago.

Katya doesn’t take my back to her as a hint that I don’t want to talk. Her heavy sigh kills me, though. I wipe away what I know are mascara tracks down my cheek and turn around. It’s so real. I’m running away from home.

“He’s making me get married.”

Katya doesn’t look surprised. She’s been here long enough to know arranged marriages are part of our world. I understand, too. But the man Papa chose… No. He’s too evil.

My sister glances at the suitcase and my hurried packing as understanding dawns on her face. Closing the bedroom door, she says, “Who does he want you to marry?”

“A monster,” is all I say, hoping she won’t press me. “Why, Papa?” I mumble in Russian.

I speak the language he’s so proud of, but I don’t have an accent. That will help me stay hidden in the real world.

“In English, Stasia. I’m trying to help you.” Papa didn’t make Katya learn Russian.

“Luka Gideon, the pakhan in Boston.” I sniff, figuring she’s going to find out. “Papa wants to form an alliance in exchange for more bratoks so he can crush the Irish and the Italians.”

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