Page 56 of Savage Union (Rosso Mafia #1)

SOFIA GALLO

Marco's voice plays on a loop in my head as I hurry down the hallway away from the conference room. Loathing doesn't even begin to express how I feel about his suggestion. Sure Marco, hand me over to the Costellos. That's totally cool with me. I'll pack my bags right now!

I refuse to be a pawn—some bargaining chip in a game I never agreed to play in the first place. I did not survive abuse—burnings and beatings—at my father's hands just to be married off to someone from the rival family.

Things weren't always this bad between the Rossos and the Costellos.

Things were fine for a while; Vito having made an agreement of peace with Mickey Costello—prior head of the Costello Clan.

And then behind his father's back, Liam stole a shipment of weapons from Vito and ruined the truce his father had in place, successfully pitting the families against each other.

Ever since, the Costellos have done nothing but create mess after mess for the Rossos.

After catching wind of Vito's marriage to my sister, Caterina, two years ago, the attacks only grew worse since Liam claimed Rina was meant to be his.

Rina claims she's happy with Vito, but both of us rising through the ranks of one of the strongest New York mafia families makes me wary.

There hasn't been a day in my life I've been allowed to just be.

Whether through my father or Vito, everything I've done has always been an order.

I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of being told what to do and when to do it.

I am a person, not some bitch they get to keep on a leash.

After the fiasco leading up to their wedding, Vito presented me with a position at one of the many "businesses" he operates as a peace offering.

I can't say I feel all at peace; my father was by no means a good man, but there's nothing like a new job to say, "I'm sorry I murdered your father in front of you and forced your sister to marry me, but I hope this paycheck earned through corruption eases your anguish. "

Even with her new title of Donna, I'm not sure Rina has the authority to change her husband's mind.

The entire family runs off the patriarchy, and he would never hand over his own sister.

Even if he chooses our cousin Elena, it's doubtful she is of high enough status to satisfy the demands—even if she were a virgin.

The elevator chime pulls me out of my thoughts; I'm too distracted to return to my work at RRE—Rosso Real Estate, headquarters of the Rosso group, so I jam my thumb in the button to go all the way down.

A few dozen floors later, the doors open to the building's vast, empty lobby.

My thoughts continue to race while my feet take me farther away from the bank of elevators and to the street.

I know I need to be careful. If I make any sudden moves now, they'll know I heard something I shouldn't have. Dante almost caught me outside that door—I'd barely ducked around the corner in time. The way his eyes had scanned the hallway, sharp and methodical, told me he suspected something.

It's too soon to run.

If I run now, Vito will know I heard something I shouldn't have. Though he claims to love and care for Rina now, I won't risk him taking out any anger he has toward me on her. If I suddenly go missing and screw over Vito, things probably won't blow over smoothly for her.

Spring melts away the remainder of Winter as the midday sun shines down on the pavement. I hold out my hand and jump into the first cab that pulls over. "Bay Ridge."

I will not let Don Vittore Rosso hand me over to Kieran Costello like a bargaining chip.

I will not be used.

What I need is a plan.

Baby pink shiplap surrounds me, suffocating me in its chipper facade.

As my least favorite color, pink is never what I would have chosen, but every time I've asked to redecorate I've been told no.

Two years living at the Greenhouse, and it still feels as much a prison as the day Mamma and I moved in.

It's never been 'home,' and it never will be.

The Greenhouse is exactly what it sounds like—a sprawling estate on the Hudson River with more windows than walls. Mamma and I moved in here permanently upon Vito's marriage to Rina.

The estate is beautiful, I'll give it that—manicured gardens that my mother tends with almost religious devotion, elegant interiors that look like they belong in some architectural magazine, and stunning views of the river that probably cost more than most people make in a lifetime.

All the luxury in the world doesn't change the fact that it's a gilded cage.

The main level is impressive with its vaulted ceilings and open floor plan.

A grand staircase leads to the upper floor where I spend most of my time.

With several bedrooms and bathrooms, it's the closest thing to cozy this estate has.

Mamma has the primary suite, leaving me the second largest room down the hall while the smaller ones serve as guest rooms and offices.

Living in an estate of the Don's is worse than having a landlord from hell.

The additional protection might be nice, but the extra eyes everywhere are not.

My every move—every breath—is watched, if not by a soldier, then by a multitude of cameras in the common areas: on the front steps; in the garage; in the halls; the living room; in the gardens…

. The only places without cameras are the bathrooms and assigned bedrooms. Much to Mamma's dismay, but to retain as much privacy as possible, I stay in my pink prison when home.

Today, reaching my room after overhearing the admin meeting, feels more stifling than ever.

My full-size bed is off-centered on the far wall, creating a balance with the asymmetrical mounted shelves.

My shelves are filled with books, plants, and various abandoned half-knit scarves.

I'll finish them one day. At least that's what I tell myself to justify buying more yarn.

Any yarn not on display threatens to tumble over the top of my armoire.

As much as I love my sister, I'm less than thrilled when she and our cousin, Elena, show themselves into my room while I pace.

Elena, at least, offers a fresh cup of coffee and a bagel; but by the look on Rina's face, Vito already told her Kieran's latest demands.

Her deep-set frown and down-turned eyes are enough to tell me she is not happy, not that I blame her.

I also wouldn't be happy if the man who shot my father, kidnapped me, and forced me to marry him now planned to use my younger sister as leverage in an underground war. Not that I'm one to hold a grudge.

She doesn't know I overheard Vito's council meeting, and I don't intend to tell her.

I'd rather give her plausible deniability than make her liable for any of my future actions; besides, our lovely Don Vito will be pissed at both of us if he finds out I was eavesdropping on one of his sacred meetings.

The less my sister knows what I know, the better.

"Spill," Elena sits on the edge of my bed, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder while Rina moves my jacket to the desk, getting comfortable in my chair.

When I raise an eyebrow at Elena, she continues.

"Please, I didn't just bring you food and drink because I'm nice.

Marco told me you left work early and by the looks of it, you've been moody all afternoon. "

"When did you get so close to Marco?" I ask, remembering his reaction when Rafa mentioned Elena's name in the meeting.

Elena doesn't reply. Her straight-faced stare telling me she's not going to say a word until she gets the information she wants from me first. "Sorry," I roll my eyes, irritated. "I didn't realize I need to send out an APB when my mood changes. I'll be sure to make that note for next time."

"What's going on?" Rina asks, her tone full of older sister concern.

She tries to keep her expression neutral, but the slight pull of her eyebrows gives her away.

Her blue eyes are cloudy, keeping her stormy thoughts to herself.

Her honey-brown bun is messy, strands of hair falling into her face. She's worried.

Rina is only a couple years older than me, but she's always been my caretaker.

We grew apart over the last couple of years, but we used to be inseparable.

She taught me to braid my hair, how to do my makeup.

She always protected me from our father's wrath.

Granted, she hasn't needed to protect me from his wrath since his death, but the sentiment itself stands.

She's my protector. When he died, I didn't just lose my father.

I lost my big sister—the one person I knew I could trust—to the same man that murdered our father.

"I'm just," I start with a huff. "I'm so sick of not being in control of my own life.

Not once have my wants been taken into consideration.

Anything I do is always under orders because it's 'what's best for the family'.

" I curl my fingers in air quotes before continuing.

"Mind you, a family I never asked to be part of!

I don't want this life, Rina. This," I gesture around the room, "isn't me.

I don't want to be caged as some modern-day princess for the rest of my life—being told where to be and when, what to do, who to marry. "

Rina pales as Elena stares at me, bewildered. "Who's saying you have to get married?"

"Nobody," I answer, pinching the bridge of my nose and biting back the 'yet' that should have followed, "but if it happened to Rina, who's to say I'm safe from the same fate?"

"Please," Elena snorts, reaching for my untouched coffee and taking a sip. "What are the odds of both you Gallo girls being in arranged marriages?"

More likely than you think, I want to say, but I settle for shaking my head. "Forget it."