Page 7 of My Solemn Vow (The Mafia Arrangement #1)
The oaf holds it up to his eye level. Which is quite tall, given I’m wearing two-inch heels and he still towers above me. “Is it customary for women to drink wine before dinner?”
I abandon him and the glass and head to the bar cart, letting Gregorio and Francesca smooth over with our guests that yes, it’s quite common for Italians to have one... or four... glasses of wine with dinner.
Wine won’t dull this experience enough anyway. I grab a rocks glass and pour myself an old-fashioned using the ingredients already laid out.
Berto hisses as he approaches me, “Do not make a fool of this family. You knew this would happen.”
“Mmm, did I?” I pitch that as a question despite knowing this was a risk of coming home. This must be record timing though.
Gregorio will always try to marry me off for a business deal. I’m honored he got me the head of the Bratva’s son rather than some lowly enforcer or captain this time. Like any of Gregorio’s previous attempts, Nikolai and I won’t be paired.
I return to the sitting area, purposefully avoiding the side of the room where Nikolai has my wine glass. I draw a long, slow sip of my drink.
“So, Toni, your aunt tells me you’re a teacher?” the beautiful blonde woman in the center of the sofa asks me.
I have no idea who she is. But if this is an engagement dinner, she must be Mrs. Popova.
“I am.” I smile, stiffening slightly and crossing my legs demurely.
Then I lay it on thick. “I graduated from Columbia, summa cum laude and valedictorian, the highest honor they offer in education. Then I went on to teach for two years at private elementary schools in DC. I felt it would benefit me to pursue my master’s, so I returned to Columbia University in New York and graduated summa cum laude, again. ”
“Oh.” She raises her eyebrows. “Impressive.”
“A bit overeducated for a woman in your line of work, isn’t she, Gregorio?” Igor laughs like he’s told a funny joke.
Leticia slides her hand next to mine on the sofa and gives it a squeeze .
Don’t worry, cousin. I won’t hurt their feelings... much.
“Well, you know her father, Antonio, may he rest in peace, always wanted a child who could fill his place someday. God gifted him with a bright girl like Toni. It seemed only fair to honor his memory by letting her go to school,” Gregorio answers before sipping his drink.
“Yes, and she’s made the family quite proud. If anything, Toni is a perfect example of how we are continually striving for greatness,” Eduardo answers as he walks behind me.
It’s a threat to behave.
Not happening, Eduardo. I draw another long sip of my drink and ignore him.
Aunt Francesca saves us from the horrors of small talk with the announcement of dinner being ready.
I make sure to move from the living room in the middle of the pack, staying close to Eduardo’s middle child, Sarena, who came from the kitchen with Francesca.
My seat, customarily at Berto’s left-hand side, has a place card on it.
“I thought we’d do something fun for dinner.” Francesca smiles. “Everyone has a place setting just for them.”
It doesn’t surprise me that ‘somehow’ I’m ‘magically’ seated next to Nikolai, and the place setting contains a little extra, nonstandard piece of decor.
Our large family has filed in with our guests, and I pull my chair out.
Nikolai places his hand over the top of mine, stopping me with it halfway out. “I am sorry for my interference. I tend to be a bit overzealous.”
He reaches over to the table for the piece of decor, a red chrysanthemum.
I force myself to remain still as he tucks the stem behind my ear. Is this guy for real?
“I do hope that we can make this arrangement work. I think you’ll be very happy with me as your husband. ”
I bite my lips together, and Nikolai pulls out an engagement ring from his pocket. He tries to raise my left hand to slide it onto my finger, but I tuck that hand behind my back.
After the first surprise proposal, the novelty wears off. Though, as far as rings go, this is one of the nicest I’ve been offered. If I was accepting based on rings alone, Igor and Nikolai would win the alliance with the D’Medicis through marriage. But I’m not chattel and I’m not being married off.
“How much?” I ask him quietly.
“I don’t understand.” He furrows his brows.
“No, of course you wouldn’t.” I turn to look at Igor and Gregorio.
“How much? Two million?” Neither of them flinch.
“No, more than that. What, five million and opening a shipment for direct imports on guns?” Gregorio cocks his head, and I know I’m closer.
“Opening the direct import and my share in the family business.”
“Toni.” Berto warns in a low voice from across the table.
“I’m getting closer, then.” I look back to Nikolai. “I’m sure you’re very nice, and of the men Gregorio has tried to marry me off to, you’re the most attractive, and your ring is lovely, but my answer is no.”
“You can’t say no,” Gregorio says from behind me.
But I remove the chrysanthemum and hand it back to Nikolai. “I wish you well.”
“Antonella!” Gregorio shouts as I leave the dining room.
I don’t bother trying to leave the house, but I do ascend the staircase, heading directly to my bedroom.
If I leave, they’ll chase me and drag me back. It’ll appear childish and like I’m a prisoner here.
If I stand my ground, they’ll have no choice but to remember who I am.
My pull is limited. I’m still a woman, just another possession in the D’Medici home.
But I am my father’s daughter, and guilt of his death hangs heavy on my uncle’s conscience, but he’s never spoken of why.
It’s been enough, but I don’t feel like it will be enough for long.
I’m not dumb enough to think this is the end. The first possible opportunity Gregorio can find to make a proposal stick... he will.
Berto must have taken the other stairwell. He meets me at my bedroom door and starts scolding me. “Quite a temper tantrum you threw.”
“I didn’t even throw a wine glass. Hardly a temper tantrum.” I unlock my door and step inside.
“You’re coming back downstairs.” Forcing his foot over the threshold, he stops the door from closing.
Ice runs through my veins. Back when we were classmates, dare I say friends even, there was always something in Berto that made me afraid. It’s there now, rearing its ugly head. Stay strong. He won’t hurt you.
“Change, put your hair up, come back downstairs, and sit to eat with the family.” His order is clear.
“I’m not marrying him.”
I think about the hurt on Nikolai’s face. Poor, naive man seemed so sure we could be a good match.
“Did I tell you that you had to?” Berto gives a fake lackadaisical shrug.
He’s trying to disarm me. I wait him out, knowing that Berto likes the sound of his own voice enough to tell me if I don’t ask.
“Eduardo really wants to marry Sarena to Nikolai instead. But Igor had it in his head that his son could handle you.”
Berto’s explanation makes my stomach roil.
“She’s eighteen!” I huff.
I don’t know what has me angrier, that they’re marrying off a practical child, forgoing the usual ‘college first’ requirement, or that I’m a pawn in Gregorio’s game of chess.
I mean, yes, it’s obvious I’m turning down the marriage proposal, but this is a new mind game that I didn’t expect from Gregorio. He’s not that smart.
“They are a good match on paper. She and Nikolai both enjoy...” Berto shakes his head.
That’s when it hits me. This was Berto’s plan. Leticia said every decision mattered and mocked Berto. This is much more his speed.
“Come downstairs. Switch seats with me and see for your fuckin’ self. I know you think I’m some sort of monster, but I care for Sarena.” He mumbles, “Probably more than I care for you.”
He clears his throat. “It’s not like we’re marrying her off to one of those Irish pigs, the Cavanaghs, and calling the fucking truce. Could you imagine? No. It’s the Russians, they’ve been good friends for a long time. Even if you weren’t here to witness it for yourself.”
“You’re sure Sarena will like him?” How the fuck will I get her out of this?
Berto crosses his arms. “I swear on Grandmother Sofia, may she rest in peace, and her Bolognese recipe. Sarena and Nikolai will love each other before the meal is even over.”
“Fine.” I raise my chin and look away from him. “But I’m wearing something slutty.”
“Wouldn’t expect anything less, cousin.” Berto backs out of my doorway. “Mom hates that red dress you wore for Labor Day.”
“I own it in green too,” I tell him before closing the door.
His appearance upstairs and the offer of information were unexpected, to say the least, but I agreed to rejoin the ‘dinner party,’ if only to see for myself what he’s so certain about.
So, I change into the floor-length green jersey-knit version of the dress I wore on Labor Day.
With a massive slit up my thigh, it’s even more daring than I’d usually wear, but most importantly, it has a single shoulder strap and shows off all the tattoos on my arms.
I strap a holster to my inner thigh down by my knee, on the opposite side away from the slit, and slide in the smallest gun I own. I’m not sure I trust what Berto said, and if it’s a lie and they try to send me with them tonight, then there will be bloodshed at Casa D’Medici.
Fuck Gregorio, fuck this power play, and fuck the deal with the Russians.