Page 75 of Sweet Sin

My father, Vincent Gallo, sits next to me. Across from me sits Miles, and next to him, his father, Declan McAllister.

We both have attorneys sitting with us as well.

“We agreed to allow your daughter to finish college, Mr. Gallo,” the attorney for the McAllisters says. “Time’s up.”

“The young lady speaks correctly,” our attorney says. “We can’t force this marriage.”

“Not under any law in the United States or the state of Texas,” the other attorney says. “You know damned well, as I do, that we’re not dealing with those laws right now.”

Our attorney stays silent.

My father turns to me. “Savannah, you knew, when we allowed you to go to college, that you were expected to marry Miles when you were done.”

“I’m not a commodity, Daddy. I’m a young woman.”

“You are. But your mother was married off to me at eighteen. We hadn’t even met at the time.”

I shake my head. “I’ve heard the story a thousand times, Daddy. These things shouldn’t happen. They’re not supposed to happen.”

“We live in our own world, Savannah. You know that.”

How well I know that. This world took my brother from me, and I want no part of it.

“Maybe I have things I want to do.”

“We know that. You’ll be able to go to law school as scheduled,” Dad says.

“Yeah, and do the family’s bidding. But which family? My Gallo family or the McAllister family?” I shake my head. “I want no part of this.” I rise.

“Savannah, sit down.”

“I’m twenty-two years old now. I’ve been my own person since I was eighteen. I’m afraid I don’t have to take orders from you anymore.” I head toward the door, turn the knob—

It’s locked.

They’ve locked me in here. My skin goes cold.

“Someone needs to unlock this door,” I say. “Or I’ll call the police.”

“I’m afraid there’s no cell reception in here,” McAllister’s attorney says.

“I see a phone right there.” I point to a landline on the credenza.

“Which requires a code to access, which I don’t plan to give you.”

Prickles skitter over my arms, and I brush my hands over them. “I truly don’t have a choice, do I?” I say.

“I’m sorry, Savannah,” Dad says. “But you don’t.”

I take my seat. “What do I have to do to get out of this?”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Mr. McAllister says. “Your father and I made a deal, sweetheart.”

“Don’t you ever refer to me as sweetheart.”

“However,” Mr. McAllister says, “there might be one thing.”

My heart races. “What? Whatever it is, I’ll do it.”

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