Page 219 of Merciless Desires

“Oh. my God.” My middle sister held the silk dress against her slim body with a groan. “Papà is going to let you wear this?”

I shrugged and turned to my dresser, trying to pick something to wear under the dress that wouldn’t be on display thanks to the unforgiving fabric. “He picked it out, so he must approve of it.”

“I’m going to check my room to see if he left a dress out for me!”

“You do that.” I chuckled and crossed the room to close the door and lock it. Gisella would only distract me and make me late.

I wasn’t sure how we were even related. Maybe it was because I was older and had more responsibility than she would ever have to bear, or maybe because I knew more about what our family did than her. She was just so…free.

My heart ached to be like her, to feel like that. Maybe one day I would. I’d get away from this life, but I couldn’t leave my sisters. Not yet.

Not knowing who would be at this supper, I exfoliated from head to toe, a little excited at thinking I could meet someone there. I knew that was not how it worked in our family, but some of my cousins had picked their husbands, or at least that was what they had said happened.

I could possibly sway Papà’s decision on the man I married if I met someone who wasn’t a complete power-hungry asshole. Those men were few and far between in our world, but they weren’t unicorns.

My cousin, Marzia, married a man who was a unicorn, and Uncle Nino surprisingly approved of the relationship. He was far sterner than Papà, so there was still a chance for me.

I curled the ends of my hair, since it was so thick and heavy that the curls would be almost straight by the end of the night. I kept my makeup light, as Papà would often request, and pulled on the slinky dress.

It took nearly ten minutes just to pick out shoes that would match. I had quite a few options to choose from since these events happened often enough.

Sneaking down the hall with my heels in my hand, I tiptoed into Mamma’s room and kissed her forehead. In the hall, I stepped into my heels and clicked my way down the echoey stone space to the staircase.

Papà was waiting on the first floor of our home, wearing an all-black suit…and a frown.

“Do you not like it?” I stopped on the second last step. “I can change, Papà.”

“No,” Papà blurted. “No, Marcella. It is perfect. Come, now. We don’t want to be late.”

Chapter Three

MARCELLA

The gated mansion with sleek white pillars creating a carport where our driver stopped wasn’t a home we had visited before. The driveway wrapped around a marble fountain decorated perfectly with flowers and shrubs.

I didn’t dare question Papà on whose home it was or why we were here. I knew better than that, so I carefully stepped out of the car and accepted Papà’s waiting hand. He led me toward the front door that opened as we neared, and into the extravagant foyer that made our home look cheap.

The foyer was a mix of black wood and pristine white stone. A curved staircase on the left drew my attention to what I could see of the second floor of the home. The back wall was opened with black railing and pillars.

A man stood at the center of the railing, and he was simply observing the people on the first floor below him. I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t recognize any of these men.

I was the only girl.

Even the staff were men, catering to every request from the men around them, who expected no less.

“Be good,” Papà commanded and leaned forward to press a kiss to both of my cheeks.

“Yes, Papà.”

Be good meant be silent. Be good meant be unseen. Be good meant do not speak to anyone unless spoken to.

So, I did exactly that. I accepted the glass of wine Papà had ordered for me, and I slipped through the crowd of harsh mafioso men to find somewhere to sit. To be out of the way.

The only place to sit was in the center of the foyer. A large round black seat that looked three Victorian chairs glued together sat empty. I settled myself on the velvet surface and kept my spine straight, knowing damn well that wherever Papà was, he had his eye on me.

I needed to make a good impression; otherwise, Papà wouldn’t have invited me. Whoever lived here was important enough that Papà needed the attention to be off of him. That was my purpose. To be a distraction.

Slowly sipping my wine, I listened to the conversations around me. About money, about blackmail, about murder, and about a man named Cortese. The name sounded familiar enough that I should have known who Cortese was, but I didn’t. I had more important things to deal with, like taking care of my sisters, than to know every Don in the business.

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