Luca

8 - Back in the lions den

Sofia

I keep my head down as we walk through the hallway of the Vidal’s huge, perfect home. I know how I must behave. I know what I must say and do.

Make Marnie Vidal like me.

It could be the end of me if I don’t.

Papa and I are led to the same room in which we were taken the first night we were here. I am so scared that this night won’t go the way Papa hopes it will.

Please, Marnie, please understand that I meant no disrespect.

“Don Vidal, thank you for agreeing to meet again so soon, and for giving my insulant daughter a second chance.”

I flinch at Papa’s words, my head down, heat prickling behind my eyes. I never look up unless Papa allows it. Still, he expects Marnie to like me.

How?

If I can’t even meet her eyes, how am I supposed to connect with her?

Doesn’t this seem to her as though I’m being rude?

That I have no intention of being polite to her?

Or of apologizing?

This woman is going to be my mother-in-law; I can’t afford for her to keep thinking badly of me. Conflicting thoughts tangle in my head. I know what Italian mothers-in-law are like. Okay, not all of them, not everyone is the same. Still, the wife of a Mafia Don thinks she owns the world. Everyone bows down to her, and she’s going to expect the same from me. The knowledge washes over me—I’m never going to be good enough for her son, no matter what I do.

But if Marnie will always see me as a disappointment, does it matter what impression I make?

Still, I can’t stop myself from needing her approval, even as everything inside me prepares for failure. I hover between hope and dread, unable to settle on either.

I’m scared that she’s going to turn out to be one of those mafia mothers who take over when her grandchild is born. If that happens, I won’t be allowed to be a real mother to any children I may have in the future. My aunt told me all about it; women like Marnie Vidal hold tremendous power. If she wanted to take her son’s firstborn and raise the child as she wished, then the Don would see it done. I would have no choice but to let it happen.

I’m not a stupid woman, but fear presses on me now. Yet, something tells me that Luca is a good man with a good heart, and that had to have come from somewhere. My thoughts flicker—maybe his mother isn’t at all like I fear; maybe she could be kind, even a friend, and not the monster-in-law I imagine.

The Don offers my father and me a seat, and we take them. I don’t have much choice—my father drags me down by my arm. I sense there are more people in the room than just us. I try to count the feet I see, but fear roots me in place. Moving my head would risk my father’s wrath.

“Sofia, would you look at me, please?”

I do look up at the Don. My father told me to do exactly as I’m told. If either Papa, the Don, or Marnie tells me to do something, then I am to do it. I see the stormy expression on Draven’s face when he looks at me.

God, I tried so hard to hide the bruises, but some are just too black and purple to cover up with makeup. There’s only so much a person can do with concealer.

Strangely, the Don doesn’t mention what he’s obviously seen on my face. Hmmm. Curious.

“Sofia, I would like you to meet my daughters. This is Lydia,”

I smile at the dark-haired beauty smiling at me. “It’s nice to meet you, Sofia.”

“You, too,” I tell her quietly, honestly.

My eyes flick to Luca for a second, and sharp sadness claws at my chest. I want to cry. The humiliation is overwhelming as I realize he’s noticed the bruises. His nostrils flare with anger, and I know the rage isn’t just general—it’s for me. I can’t meet his eyes; shame and dread flicker together inside me.

God, please don’t say anything to my father about it. Please, Luca. If you do, he’ll put an end to this wedding, and I’ll never be free of him.

I am so scared that Luca might say something to anger my father. The fear tightens my chest, the sense of danger growing. Luca doesn’t realize the threat is personal—not just general or distant. If he spoke up, Papa wouldn’t say anything here, but once we returned home, I would be in real danger.

I know the Don would end my father’s life before he got a second word out. Yet, no matter what he’s done, I don’t want to see him hurt.

I know how stupid that sounds after everything he’s done to me, after everything he continues to do to me, but he’s my father. I wish I could turn off my feelings and pretend he was nothing to me, that I didn’t care what happens to him, but it’s just not that easy.

If anything happened to Papa—if his life ended—I’d cry. I know I would. Then, the grief would give way to relief, because I’d finally be free—free from worrying he’d hurt me again. It’s sick that I want him gone for my own peace, but at the same time, part of me fears losing him. He’s all I know; that ache is hard to untangle.

Does that make me weak?

It’s not weakness, just survival. You can only be beaten down so many times before you stay there.

“This is my daughter, Amber.”

I don’t even have to look at my father to know that he’s disgusted by Amber’s condition. He’s a vile pig of a man who would have killed this beautiful girl the moment she was born if she’d been his. The shame of having a child that was not what he perceives to be “normal” would not be something he could put up with. He would have killed her mother as punishment for having a child like Amber.

I can tell just by looking at Amber that she’s loved well. That beautiful young woman, whose parents have never been ashamed of her, is smiling so widely because she’s happy. Inside, I am thrilled that she has obviously lived a good life with a good family.

“Now, Daddy?” She’s practically bouncing in her seat with excitement.

“Not yet, Amber.”

“Oh. Please!” She clasps her hands together like she’s praying. “Please, can I hug Sofia? She’s very beautiful. She likes me, I can tell.”

My father will beat the s**t out of me if I hug Amber. He’ll call her names – not in front of the Don, he’s not that brave – call me names. He’ll probably even force me into a scorching shower and have my body scrubbed raw, because that’s the kind of monster he is.

“Sofia might not want to hug you, Amber.” Her sister tells her.

Poor Amber is looking at me; she’s no longer smiling, and it looks like she’s going to cry, thinking I might not want to hug her. The look on her face is so sad that it hurts my heart so badly.

I look at Luca for a second and, unexpectedly, a surge of warmth rises in me. Even in the midst of fear, I can’t help it when he looks at me like that. I can already read the promise in his silent gaze—he’s assuring me this will end soon. Relief flickers; soon, we’ll be married, and maybe my father will never be able to hurt me again.

Fuc.k it, what the hell do I have to lose?

Your life?

Your freedom?

It will be worth it just to see Amber smiling again.

I get out of my seat and smile at Amber while holding my hand out to her. She smiles so wide and gets out of her seat, taking my hand in hers. “I would love a hug. Thank you, Amber.”

And she does hug me. She hugs me so tightly that, in the crush of emotions, a tear falls from my eye. The sad fact is, only Lorna has ever hugged me like this. The warmth is unfamiliar—no one else has ever tried to hold me, not really. The contrast between my past and Amber’s kindness stuns me.

But this sweet girl is holding onto me, hugging me so tightly my heart feels like it might burst. She doesn’t even know me, yet her embrace is so full, so genuine, that for a moment I almost believe I deserve her affection. Wonder mingles with pain inside me.

“We can be best friends.” She tells me with a kiss on my cheek.

I hold her hands in mine and smile. “The very best.” She hugs me again with a laugh, then pulls away and retakes her seat next to her sister.

“Happy now?” The Don asks his daughter. Amber nods her head happily and giggles. “Good. Now that’s out of the way, Lydia, could you take Amber to her room? I don’t want my baby girl hearing this.”

“Of course. Come with me, Amber. Let’s go play with your dolls.”

Oh God, what are they going to say to me?

If it’s the last thing I do, I will make that woman like me before this meeting is over, or I’ll die trying.

Once Lydia and Amber are out of the room, the Don rounds on me. “Where did you get the bruises, Sofia?”

Oh, shi.t.

I cannot tell him the truth; my father will literally kill me.

Oh, God.

What am I supposed to say?

“She fell down the stairs last night. It was unfortunate, but she is a clumsy girl. Aren’t you, Sofia?”

I keep my head down and swallow hard. “Yes, Papa.”

“I was asking Sofia. But I see you’ve already drummed into her head that she fell.”

“With all due respect,”

“Save it, Romano!”

I’m shaking inside. Badly. These are very bad men—my father and Don Vidal. I hate this way of life. If I could leave and never look back, I would. But you don’t leave this life unless it’s in a pine box.

“You think me a stupid man?”

“Of course not, Don Vidal. My daughter is clumsy, but there is no lasting damage. It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. You’ll find that out for yourself. Just as long as Mrs. Vidal agrees to the union.”

“I’d like to speak with Sofia alone.”

Oh, God. Luca’s mom wants to speak with me alone!

What the hell is she going to say to me?

What the hell is going through my father’s head right now?

“Of course, Mrs. Vidal.” Papa grabs my arm and pulls me into him, whispering in my ear, “Listen to what she has to say. Be respectful. Apologize until you’re blue in the face if you have to, but you make her like you. Do not tell her anything about my business, and keep what happened last night to yourself. If I find out you’ve told her anything, I’ll kill you.”

I can do nothing but nod, emotion tightening my throat. No one heard what he just whispered, but I remind myself not to make a scene. The knowledge sinks in—whatever happens, I’m the one who has to go home with this man at the end of the day—my determination battles with dread.

“If you could follow me, please, Sofia.” It wasn’t a question.

I get out of my seat without looking at anyone. I follow Marnie out of the room and down the hall.