1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

T oula, Age 14, Year O

I ran down the hall of our family compound, the squeak of my sneakers bouncing off the walls. As I rounded the corner, my feet slid on the imported marble floor in my hurry. Peeking into my sister’s art room, I sealed my fate. Irini wasn’t there to divert the attention, and I was officially in trouble. I had no one to blame but myself.

“You’re late,” my mother sneered as I took my place next to Irini at the dining room table. “You’re lucky. Your father took an important phone call.”

I didn’t feel lucky. Most of the time, I could ignore my mother and her spiteful comments. I usually let them bounce off me, pretending I was unbreakable. My mother didn’t know when to stop, and the next time she felt like punishing me, she’d aim for my jugular, guaranteeing it would hurt.

“Happy birthday, Irini,” I whispered, lowering my eyes to my lap. My father had to sit down before we could start breakfast, even though the food was already on the table. The serving staff would bring my father a hot plate, and we’d have to deal with room temperature. My book was looking more appealing by the minute.

My father was the don of the οικογ?νεια, Greek for family, and made sure we knew he held all the power in his hand, wielding it for his pleasure only. My mother made sure we never forgot we were pawns in someone else’s game. Those who neglected their roles quickly learned the cost.

“Thank you.” Irini knocked her elbow against mine in solidarity, making it look like a subtle shift in her seat. I didn’t know how my sister had come from my parents. She was a gentle soul, and both of them were more apt to put a bullet between your eyes.

It was common knowledge that Irini didn’t want to leave the compound after she graduated from high school in the spring. She was sharp as a whip, but higher education had never really appealed to her. Unless you showed promise in running a business or gaining a skill that would help the Family, they didn’t encourage you. Boys became men, and fathers sold off daughters to further their own agendas. It was the way things were, and as the first daughter, men would offer twice the normal amount for Irini.

I wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but I wished my father would hurry. My stomach rumbled, and my head pounded. I thought about asking to be excused, but I was in enough trouble. Finally, my father walked into the dining room, and we stood until he took his seat at the head of the table. After placing his napkin on his lap, he took a sip of his coffee and then motioned for us to sit.

“Happy Birthday, agapiméni.” My father patted Irini’s cheek and then picked up his fork. The wait staff had been on standby. The moment he allowed us to sit, the serving girl placed a fresh plate before him .

I faced the breakfast table, but I felt Irini’s gaze out of my peripheral vision. Her eyes darted towards me, then quickly back to her plate. My father had called Irini treasured in Greek. He only used terms of endearment when he wanted something, ensuring you would comply. There wasn’t a choice in the matter.

“Thank you, Patéras,” Irini whispered. Her face was pale, her wide eyes betraying the fear she fought to hide. Irini locked her hands together in her lap, and I could see her struggling not to show that she was shaking. Her nails dug into her palms, leaving angry red crescents.

“Today is a fortuitous day.” My father buttered his toast. “I’ve just accepted a marriage proposal for Irini.” He was the only one unfazed by the bombshell. My eyes darted to my mother. Across the table, she kept her composure, her expression quickly schooled as she reached for the fruit bowl, like this was an everyday occurrence.

I lowered my eyes again, my stomach churning, though my appetite had vanished. Arranged marriages were inevitable in our world, but to actually see my father carelessly give Irini away made me angry. He’d called her treasured , but he hadn’t treated her any differently than a servant. I wanted to scream at the injustice of it all, but it wouldn’t make a difference. The women in my family suffered in silence. I knew they would treat me the same way when my time came.

“We have agreed to set the wedding date for the week of Irini’s twenty-first birthday. Maria, you’ll have to prepare her.” My father leaned back in his chair, surveying us like the king of his castle.

No one spoke. The only sound in the room was the soft chime of the grandfather clock in the corner and the scrape of my mother’s fork as she forced down pieces of watermelon.

I didn’t know where Irini found the courage, but she stared at my mother, silently begging her to ask for more details. My mother pretended not to see her and simply stared at my father as she ate. They held a silent conversation. As a child, I had thought it was romantic, not understanding that it was ruthlessness that held my parents together.

Irini tried again to get my mother’s attention.

Finally, my mother broke the silence. “To whom?” she asked.

“Giuseppe Lombardo,” my father answered, as he took another sip of his coffee.

My mother waited to see if my father would say anything else before she pried. “The Old Man or Junior?” She was the only one who could question my father without being snapped at.

“The Old Man.” My father smirked before he took a bite of toast.

I glanced at my sister. She was trying her best to hold it together, but I could tell she wanted to flee from the room. As soon as she could, she’d run to her sanctuary on the third floor. When the news reached Markos, he’d make some excuse and meet her up there. Markos would be dead if my father ever found out they had feelings for each other. Mafia princesses didn’t fall for their bodyguards.

“Maria, the Italians will be here for dinner tonight to celebrate the contract. Prepare for their arrival.” He took one last sip of coffee and walked out of the room.

Irini waited until my father turned the corner, heading to his office. “Mother!” she yelled softly. “I can’t.”

“Hush. You will do your duty.” My mother didn’t have any compassion for the situation. Her response didn’t really surprise me, but I refrained from adding my two cents into this conversation. It wouldn’t help Irini, and it would place an even bigger target on my back.

“He’s an old man,” my sister retorted. “He’s older than Patéras.”

As long as the girl was eighteen, she was legal to take part in an arranged marriage. It didn’t matter if her groom was old enough to be her grandfather. I had to give it to Irini. She hadn’t given up yet, even though she wouldn’t win this argument. We never did against our mother.

“So, what? You think Markos is going to save you? You were bred to be owned.” My mother had been aware all along.

I wasn’t sure what to think about that. On the one hand, I wasn’t surprised that my mother knew. She had a pulse for everything that had occurred in the compound. On the other, I had seen nothing inappropriate until last week, so it made me question how she knew. I wondered if she’d conned one of the staff to spy on our inner family. If she had, I’d have to be careful.

“He can’t shield you, so don’t even think about doing anything foolish. You will marry Old Man Lombardo, bear him a couple of children, and hope he dies quickly.” My mother ate a piece of watermelon.

“Mitéra, I can’t. Please! I don’t love him,” my sister sobbed at the table. “Please.” The tears streamed down her cheeks in two rivers.

“You think I loved your father when I came from Greece at eighteen? I didn’t. I married a man that I didn’t know and built a family. Get a grip.” My mother stood gracefully from her chair, placed her napkin on the table, and waltzed out of the dining room.

My sister looked at me, and I didn’t have any words. I was just glad that our little sisters were still with their nanny and didn’t have to witness this.

Irini rushed from the room, burying her face in her hands as she cried. She’d wait for Markos, and I hoped he’d be able to calm her down enough to get through tonight. I sent a silent prayer to anyone who listened that they wouldn’t make this situation worse.

As I sat amongst the breakfast dishes, my perspective shifted. I was the second daughter of the don of the οικογ?νεια. Eventually, my father would seal my fate in an arranged marriage, and I never wanted to be in the same position my sister was. Sitting back in my chair, I contemplated the future.

The only way out was to become an undesirable – not eligible for marriage. I only knew of two ways to earn that status with the Family. One was to become a whore, and they would never let me. The other was to have a useful skill. If I showed interest in running a business, and I was good at it, they would never push me into an arranged marriage. It wouldn’t make sense if I generated extreme amounts of clean money.

I stood from the table and ran to the library, not caring how much noise I made. I opened the door and stood in the corner, ogling the shelves of books. This was my favorite room in the house; it would hold the keys to my future.

Looking at the bookcases, I found the business section and pulled the first one off of the shelf. Dragons would have to wait. The library had comfy chairs, so I grabbed some paper and sat with my book, preparing to take notes.

***

M y tombstone was going to read, Here lies Toula Petrakis . Death by Boredom . I was being overly dramatic, but this was one of the worst dinners I’d ever attended. I didn’t know what I had expected, but it wasn’t this.

My father sat at the head of the table, puffing his chest with importance as he cut into his steak. He’d take a bite, set his fork down, and then try to engage Old Man Lombardo in conversation. However, the Old Man would ignore my father, forcing his sons to step in and fill the silence. They were just delaying the inevitable. I could have told them the whole thing was awkward.

My mother sat on the other side of my father, speaking only when someone addressed her. Occasionally, she would chuckle, even when no one had said anything remotely funny. The only good thing about this dinner was that no one bothered Irini. The Old Man didn’t pay her any attention, and no one forced her into the conversation. It was probably for the best because she looked like she would fall apart if asked to speak. Her breathing had been shallow when we sat down, like she was trying to stave off a panic attack. Once we had finished the first course, she calmed down enough to make it through.

I tried to pay attention, but my mind would often wander. I didn’t want to be here, but I was stuck playing my role in this farce.

“Yes, we already have the leverage in place for the new casino,” Frankie Lombardo said, taking a sip of water.

Finally, something good was going to happen tonight. I’d written down terms I didn’t know from the book this afternoon, and “leverage” was on my list. If they kept talking, I might get enough clues to figure out the definition. Frankie was sitting directly across from me, and my smile caught his attention. In my excitement, I’d forgotten to keep my features schooled.

“What is it, bambina?” he asked me, smiling back. Frozen Frankie had a friendly smile, and it lit up his face as he stared back at me. I would have never believed the stories about him were real. The guards were in awe of his commercial freezer use.

“It’s nothing, sir.” I quickly lowered my eyes to my lap, hoping he’d turn the conversation somewhere else. I already felt like everyone was staring at me, and I didn’t want to know how angry my father was. This was not a suitable conversation for a child, and my father would call me one, even though tradition had forced me to grow up faster than the other girls in my class.

“No, it’s something. What is it?” He had asked me a direct question, forcing me to answer.

I took a deep breath and raised my head. “Leverage is one of the terms I didn’t understand in my book this afternoon.” I kept it simple, not wanting my parents to know of my plan. The longer I could keep it to myself, the better off I was going to be. I sneaked a glance at my mother, and her eyes narrowed at me, but I didn’t dare look at my father.

“Frankie,” the Old Man chided him, but all he did was smile wider at me.

“Leverage comes in many forms, bambina. You and I are competing for the same piece of property, but I am a lowly pauper.” He dramatically raised his hand to his heart. “You’re a rich heiress. Who do you think is going to win?” He waited for me to answer.

“I would,” I whispered.

“That’s right. Money makes the world go round, bambina. Too many people don’t have it, so when you flash it, their eyes are looking elsewhere instead of on the prize.” He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. I heard my mother gasp.

“Sometimes, instead of money, you need connections, like the casino. There are many people in this city, some influential, some who just want to hear themselves talk. However, when you go into business with someone, you want to analyze what they bring to the table. Do they know the same people you do? Can they ask their connections for favors while you work yours? That’s leverage over the operations that haven’t rubbed elbows with the rich and not-so famous.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “I understand now. ”

“Don’t forget, bambina. When all else fails, muscle is your only way in.” Frankie went back to cutting his steak, not paying attention to anyone else in the room. I lowered my eyes, not wanting to know how much trouble I was in for this stunt, even though I hadn’t started it.

“That’s enough, Francesco. There’s no need for the girls to know how family business works,” the Old Man said, staring at his son over his fork as he brought it to his mouth.

“There’s no harm in explaining. Next time, she won’t have to ask.” He winked at me.

“Well, Toula is quite inquisitive,” my father broke into the conversation. I didn’t raise my head, but I looked at my father through my eyelashes. He was laying his hand over my mother’s on the table, effectively quieting her for now. I wouldn’t be so lucky later. “Maybe I’ll have to rethink your education.” I didn’t get my hopes up. He was just appeasing the Italians.

Dinner continued through dessert, and eventually, my parents allowed us to be excused. I told my guard that I was heading to bed and allowed him to walk me up. Angelo waited until I locked my door before he headed to the bunkhouse. It would take him ten minutes to get down the stairs and out the front door. I’d timed it one night.

I waited, and when I was sure he was gone, I crept back downstairs to hide in the library. My mother wouldn’t bother to look there if she was trying to find me. I curled up in one of the wingback chairs. Not worrying about what tomorrow would bring, I fell asleep. I had a plan.