Page 10 of Enzo (Legacy of Heathens #3)

PENELOPE

I found my parents in Papà’s office wearing tight expressions, and somehow, I knew. The day had come.

“Hey, princess,” Papà greeted with a rough voice.

He was seated in his leather armchair behind the massive mahogany desk, the wall-to-wall bookshelves serving as a backdrop for this tense moment.

Papà and Nonno had read to me throughout my whole childhood and into adolescence, and each book served as a precious memory.

“Sit down, sweetheart,” Mama said, keeping her expression brave, but she couldn’t hide the worry in her gaze. “We went to Rome yesterday and received an interesting proposition.”

She stood behind Papà, the two representing a united front.

It’d been like this for as long as I could remember, although rumors circulated every now and then that it hadn’t always been so.

Shortly after I was born, she’d left my father and taken me into hiding.

It had something to do with a falling out between them after she found out about the arranged marriage—or something along those lines.

Forcing my feet forward, I smiled through the knots twisting my stomach and sank onto the chair facing them.

I folded my hands in my lap, trying to hide my anxiety, and waited for the inevitable.

“You wanted to see me about a proposition?” I asked when they both remained silent for too long.

“Yes.” It was the only word Papà seemed to be able to push past his lips.

The expression on his face told me he’d rather offer me anything but this dreaded news, so I decided to make it easier for him.

“I’m assuming Enrico Marchetti is demanding a date for our inevitable nuptials.”

Papà let out a heavy sigh.

“More like, Enzo’s insisting. He wants a Christmas wedding.” Shock ricocheted through me. That was mere weeks away, hardly enough time to prepare for what was supposed to be the biggest day of my life. “He’s tired of waiting and wants to start a family.”

I grimaced, the thought of having sex with Enzo repulsive. Now that I’d experienced euphoria, I knew there were men out there who could bring me the type of pleasure I’d never dreamed possible.

When I gave my virginity to the stranger in the club back in Connecticut, I knew I would never see him again.

It was my way of saying fuck you to the man I despised.

If only I’d known what a double-edged sword it would turn out to be…

Maybe then I’d be able to step into this obligation ignorant of all that I was giving up.

There were also questions that plagued me. For weeks now, it’d been puzzling me how it was possible that my masked stranger hadn’t “disappeared” prior to our passionate night like the suitors of my past. Was he even still alive?

But it wasn’t as if I could voice those words.

“That’s a good thing,” Mama mumbled. “It shows he’s serious about this marriage.”

Papà scoffed. “Enzo and Amadeo fuck anything that moves. My daughter deserves better.”

Mama let out a frustrated breath. “Luca, the same could have been said about you when you were their age.”

“Why?” I interrupted, determined to put a stop to their bickering.

“Why what?” Mama questioned.

“Why demand to set the date so urgently and not let us properly prepare?”

Papà let out an exasperated breath.

“Why do Marchettis do anything? I’m convinced something is fundamentally wrong with them.” He rubbed his forehead as if the mere mention of the wedding gave him a headache. “We have a few options to delay or stop?—”

I sat up and straightened my shoulders. “No.”

“No?” Papà repeated, confused. “You don’t know what I was about to say, princess.”

I took a deep breath and exhaled before I choked out my next words. “I know you, Papà. You want to give me options to refuse, but I won’t.”

“But—”

I shook my head, ignoring the panic filling my chest, and instead projected a bravery and confidence I didn’t feel.

“I won’t let you start a war with them,” I stated, my tone final. “Amara’s sick. She’s the priority now; she needs us. A war with the Marchettis would throw a wrench in her treatment plans, and there is nothing more important than her health.”

Our gazes locked while the silence stretched, his conveying his need to save me from Enzo and mine determined not to let him interfere.

“Are you sure, Penelope?” Mama’s voice broke through our battle of wills. “You’re strong and I know you can do this, but I also want you to be happy.”

“I’m sure,” I murmured.

“I’m fucking not,” Papà grumbled. “That bastard doesn’t deserve my daughter. They’re probably hiding some sinister family scandal.”

“Those are just rumors,” Mama scolded him.

Curiosity got the best of me. “Rumors?”

Mama made a dismissive gesture, waving her hand. “It’s nothing.”

“The rumor is that Enrico’s first wife was certifiably crazy, and that it runs in the family.”

“Oh.”

“There’s no proof,” Mama insisted. “It’s not like you to pay attention to gossip, Luca.”

Papà pushed his hand through his hair and sighed. “Maybe not, but I’m desperate to protect her.”

Mama’s expression tightened. “And I’m not?”

Papà ignored her. It would seem the Marchettis were the only ones up to cracking their united front.

“We can make you disappear while?—”

“Luca!” Mama hissed. “We agreed.”

I cleared my throat, but the lump didn’t dissipate. “I won’t disappear, Papà. If there’s truth to these rumors and Enzo is pazzo , I can use it as grounds for divorce.”

Papà didn’t seem happy with that, but Mama eagerly nodded. “That’s good thinking, Pen.”

Papà’s shoulders slumped tiredly. “I wanted better for you, princess.”

I stood up and came around the table to hug him. “I know, but I’m not a little girl. I’m strong like my parents, and it’s not as if the concept of arranged marriages is foreign to me or any of my friends.” I pulled away so I could meet his weary eyes. “Everything will be fine.”

I sure as fuck hoped it would be.

“Don’t forget, Luca, Pen knows her way around a gun,” Mama reminded him. “She’s more than capable of protecting herself. It was the main reason we sent her to D’Arc.”

“You remember the self-defense techniques you learned?” Papà questioned, searching my eyes.

“I do,” I assured him, squeezing him a final time. “You raised a fighter, not a damsel in distress. I can handle him and the Marchettis.”

Papà’s hand came to rest on my head. “It’s less about what I know you can handle and more about your papà feeling like a failure.” He sighed. “I should have protected you better.”

“You did.” My voice caught on a sob. I hated seeing him so dejected. “You kept them away for as long as you could. Now, let me deal with them, and let’s focus on Amara.”

“I love you, princess.”

“I know, Papà,” I murmured, emotions clogging my throat. “I love you, too. All of you.”