His to Claim, His to Ruin

Chapter 3

Lana

Judging by his facial manifestations right now, his goons can shoot my father with just one command. The thought of losing my parents began to trudge down my spine, sending shivers down my spine as I struggled while kneeling.

Instead of my father begging for an ounce of forgiveness, I pushed him a little, showing the deepest remorse and sincerity I could offer.

“Mr. Mancini…” tears rolled down my cheeks as I saw my parents in misery.

Addressing him by his last name doesn't sit right. His face changed from stoicism to annoyance. The Don’s face darkened—enough to assume irritation began to build up.

“Plead forgiveness to the Don, Lana. Let him see you're obedient,” my father's plea made me nibble my lower lip. “Serve him.”

And there it is, a provoking statement my ears can't dodge. Now I'm caught in this dangerous game where fleeing is not an option; otherwise, he won't spare any of us.

To think I wasn't able to help them makes me think I'm nothing but a useless i***t. I should be the legs of our family, the core strength and anchor for my parents but I feel like I failed them.

“I will do e-everything you wish…” I mumbled, gambling things I can offer, “spare our family just this time and I promise to be obedient. I will follow your orders however you like.”

The Don’s eyes were scanning me, carefully reading my sincerity despite my deepest plea. It was different like I’m gonna melt through his piercing gaze.

Until a small smirk crept on his face. Not the ‘smirk’ of mockery but a ‘smirk’ as if he just won a f*****g bet.

“I know a way for you to pay me without needing more time,” Salvatore enunciated. The “way” he was trying to convey makes my stomach turn. Oh no. Look at the trouble you get yourself into Lana.

Salvatore took another stick of tobacco from the inside pocket of his coat then he lit it up right in front causing me to divert my face away.

I scrunched my nose when a couple of smokes went directly to my nose. Cigarette smoke. Damn. I had never liked a tobacco let alone a single smoke.

I stuttered, “What w-way?”

“Marry me.”

A trace of surprise was imprinted on my face. I stared at him for a second hoping he'd retract his agreement but he didn't. His offer was something my brain can’t process.

What made me curious most is no hesitation found when he spoke about marriage, as if he had been gradually waiting for this moment to come.

To think I'd be some drug pusher, a tool for human trafficking, butchering pig heads but a marriage offer is not what I expected.

Salvatore Mancini, the deadliest man in this country, is offering me a marriage as our way out. Tying a knot to a notorious mob like him is like throwing yourself into hell you didn't sign up for. The worst part? Being caged to it without a way out.

Marrying a Mancini means getting yourself on one of the enemy’s target lists. I paused for a moment, weighing the pros and cons in my mind, analyzing the data like a computer.

“I'll be frank with you, Don S-Salvatore,” I mumbled, my voice was low and I did my best to maintain composed out of respect. “I'm nothing but a normal girl trying to survive, working all day with only 4 hours of sleep to get my family of three fed. I see nothing but a plain girl in front of you, so what possibly can I offer?”

“Many,” he retorted. One word from this man and I can feel my body submitting to him. I hate how my body twitched when he used his authoritative baritone voice.

“Being your wife is truly such an honor, but I don't think I can cross that line. I’m far from a girl you'd want and I basically know I'm not your type.” Think of a way to leave this stupid, dangerous marriage of convenience Lana.

Despite my greatest persuasion to debunk the idea of marriage, Salvatore remained persistent about his offer. “I can put you to good use.”

“My family owes a lot of people, and I'm afraid you'll get dragged into trouble. Once they know I married you, everyone will flock to your path, which can cause you delays during important meetings. I just don't want that to happen.” Some of it was true though, but some parts weren't. I only said it to come up with a new tactic and brushed the idea of marriage aside.

He scowled. “What do you take me for?”

“I'm a firm believer I'm not worthy of your time.” This was my final straw, the final stage to confuse him and think about something else he'd like me to do.

“At least I can steal a cow from the neighborhood if you want me to. I can cook ten dishes at a time without needing help. I can do everything…but being your wife?”

Salvatore gave me a smirk. “You don't have the power to decide,” Salvatore affirmed whilst his right-hand man, Owen’s face remained confused.

He strode towards where I was, slowly lifting my chin using his index fingers until our gaze locked for the ninth time.

Salvatore paused; he didn't answer back, yet he remained ogling my face for a minute. I stared at his handsome face; his prominent jaw looked dangerous, his broad, thick eyebrows intimidating, whilst his eyes…

His eyes scream desperation. Fear. Anger. Emotions I can't fully understand.

“To marry me is to clear all your family's debts listed in your account,” he said. “All your mom's treatment shall be shouldered by me without letting you pay for anything including your monthly groceries.”

My whole body froze from the moment his fingers began caressing my cheeks while I gripped the hem of my blouse, nibbling my lower lip as I tried to make a way and woo him far from me.

“There are only two options, little doe. Marry me, and you will get everything I have. My time, my money, trips to different countries… or I'll kill your father right now in front of you.” He speaks as if he doesn't fear the law protecting people's human rights.

My mother couldn't bear watching anymore, to the point she already half-opened her mouth to persuade him.

A smiled bitterly. My father is ready to sell me, and if I don't agree, what will it be for us?

Death.

My mother suddenly held onto my arms. She might be thinking I'm a fool myself. “Lana, my dear, you don't need to marry him—” My mom's persuasion got me clenching my jaw.

Dad cut me off. “She has to! Lana, my dear. If you marry the Don he will let us slide this time. Do you really want your mother to die?”

And that hits me. I couldn't let my parents suffer just because of my poor decisions.

A small smile crept onto his face from the moment he saw me, being fixated on saying yes.

Being in a tight position left me no choice.

“I do,” I said, making my mother cease from speaking. “I will marry you.”

Reality slapped me hard. Having Salvatore Mancini as a support system could lift the heavy burden I'm carrying.

I chewed hard, my hands turning into a fist while I gambled my own life with the hands of Salvatore Mancini—the notorious King of the underground.

“I need your word. Hold onto your promise, Don S-Salvatore. Wipe all our debts, and pay for my mother's treatment.”

Salvatore quickly responded. “I’m a man of words, little doe. Owen,” he called for someone who was at my right earlier, “include it in the agreement between Lana and me.”

I paused. My eyes widened.

He knows me.

He called me by my name.

Lana.

Owen nodded. “Understood, Don.”

Salvatore fixed his suit; his eyes remained staring in my direction with a melting gaze. “If you run, I'll make sure to cut your father's body parts. And no hospital will take your mom without my permission.” Salvatore's fingers gently caressed my cheeks paired with his blazing stares. “Do you understand?”

I reluctantly nodded. “Y-yes, Don.”

Salvatore hoisted his hand. Another man came inside with a Louis Vuitton bag. He ordered his men to put it across me.

“Take these clothes. Consider it as my gift,” Salvatore affirmed with a meaningful tone behind it.

His gift?

“I'll come back in a few days. Make sure you're ready when I do. You love your parents, don't you?”

And in just a couple of seconds, all the armed men swarming our living room immediately left. My attention drifted to the paper bags they left. I gently took whatever I saw inside and to my surprise, a bunch of dresses were thrown at me in my exact size, a type of dress I like-given by a man I least expected.

My eyes stopped exactly at the purple stuffed toy included in his gifts.

Hell, how did he know Cinnamoroll is my favorite?!