Page 25

Iosif stepped closer, reaching for my hand again. This time I let him take it, too worked up to do anything else. This was the thing I dreaded most growing up. While my brothers swore they wouldn’t marry me off as chattel, in the mob, arranged marriages were common enough to make me wake up in the dead of night screaming.

“I’ll be good to you.” He squeezed my fingers with a surprising amount of strength. “I’ll protect you.”

I blinked up at the man—the boy—wearing a Batman tee. This was not my fate. I did not break from my brother’s gilded cage to be trapped here.

“No!” I ripped my hands away.

Iosif’s face crumpled. “Serena, please understand—”

“No,” I repeated, backing away from him. “I don’t care what’s been ‘decided.’ I’m not marrying anyone.”

The afternoon sun filtered through the orange trees, casting dappled shadows across his crestfallen face. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

“It’s not so simple,” he said, lowering his voice. “When you came here, things were set in motion. You’ve seen too much. They determined you’re a risk.”

“Who’s they?” I demanded. I wanted it in the open. I wanted to hear him admit this was a criminal organization. At least then we could have an honest discussion about my options.

“Um, the people?” he hedged.

Chicken.“Well,theycan go to hell,” I snapped, my heart hammering against my ribs. I stormed away, headed for the cottage that was my temporary dwelling. It seemed less like a place of captivity, and more like a haven from this madness.

A breeze rustled through the orange trees, carrying the scent of citrus and the distant laughter from the village center. The contrast between that joy and my sudden panic made me dizzy.

“It’s going to happen one way or another,” Iosif called out, jogging after me.

I rounded on him. “It’s not. I’d rather die.”

Iosif looked as though I struck him. “Okay, if you really feel that strongly—”

“I do.” Why?Why!Did he have to look like a kicked puppy? “Look, I’m sure you’re a great guy, but this isn’t up for discussion.”

He only nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Good.” I began to walk away, not wanting to see his hurt expression anymore. I was pissed, but I didn’t need to take it out on him. After all, he was only the messenger. I would find someone else to give an earful to, and if worse came to worse, I would run away. That was probably my best option anyway. I hadn’t felt the need to leave before this; the fairy tale had been unfolding so beautifully. But now came the true colors.

If I went back to Alessandro, my brother would never let me leave Chicago again. My chest tightened as I burst into the cozykitchen of the cottage. I never felt more free than in this place. Why did it have to stop? Why couldn’t I have a happy ending?

I stopped short.

“No,” I breathed.

But my brain couldn’t help but wonder: Was Iosif the happy ending I needed to keep my freedom?

“Oh, madonna, no,” I prayed. There had to be another way. Otherwise, I was just trading one prison for another.

Chapter 11 – Serena

The kitchen door swung open as I was placing a glass Pyrex container of soup in the fridge. Since I was fairly certain I shut it after dropping by Dorothea’s house for the food, I spun around to look. A shadow loomed in the frame. I yelped, moving for the knife block as my mind registered the outline of black on black.

“Don’t you knock?” I snapped, dropping my hand to my side.

Markos pushed into the kitchen, which was suddenly filled with his dark presence. The candlelight flickered over his features, and shadows danced over his body. The picture they painted was a macabre nightmare.

I gulped, wishing I could just see him in the daylight. Surely, he wasn’t that scary? But the way he kept one half of his face always turned away from the light made me wonder.

“It’s my house,” he observed, setting down the crisp blue bags with pearly white engraving and matching satin ribbon handles.

I snapped the fridge door completely shut, deepening the shadows further. “I don’t care if it’s the pope’s, you should announce yourself, not sneak up on people.”