7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

T oula, Age 18

It was Monday, and I was walking through the foyer to the formal dining room. Stopping at the mirror in the hallway, I fixed my ponytail before heading in. I’d spent most of the day at school, and I hadn’t cared about my appearance, but I wouldn’t have that luxury here. It was a miracle I didn’t have to change clothes to please my parents. I wore jeans, and as long as I looked presentable, no one would say a word.

Walking into the dining room, I took my place next to Irini. I had been right when I’d said Old Man Lombardo wouldn’t care about losing his fourth son. The Italians had buried Junior, and the Old Man had washed his hands of Irini. He had claimed she wasn’t his responsibility, since the marriage hadn’t lasted twenty-four hours.

Irini had moved back into our family compound, as was custom. She spent most of her days in her sanctuary. We only saw her at dinner, and she never spoke to anyone. The catatonic state had never broken. She was still breathing but not truly living. My father told anyone who would listen that it was because she was in mourning. We all knew the truth. It wasn’t her husband that she mourned.

“Nice of you to join us on time, Toula,” my mother sneered. I didn’t bother to respond. It would do more harm than good. My mother could get irked easily, and I didn’t think she was even directing her anger at me.

Looking across the table at Katalina, I watched for any sign that she had provoked my mother. At fourteen, my sister was old enough to attend family meals, but she hadn’t found her place in our world yet. Irini’s first marriage had opened our eyes to the future, and Kat wore her defiance like a badge, daring anyone to challenge her. She openly opposed the system, telling anyone who would listen that she refused to be auctioned off to the highest bidder.

My mother would openly laugh at her and say, “Beauty is a commodity to be bought and sold, and you have it in spades.”

“Yeah, Toula. Better late than never.” Kat looked out the corner of her eye, making sure that my mother wasn’t paying attention before she stuck her tongue out at me.

I didn’t bother to retort. It would only encourage Kat to continue, and I didn’t want her to be punished. I could escape to the library at college, but Kat would be stuck within the compound walls with no place to hide from my mother.

We sat in the awkward silence that had settled around the table, waiting for my father to make his appearance. Luckily, he arrived within a few minutes. The food was still hot in the trays, and I relished the smells as the serving staff lifted the covers. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was until my stomach growled.

Stifled conversation floated around the table as we pretended to be a normal family. My father asked about school, even though he didn’t really care. I’d just started my second semester, and this was the first time he’d ever shown interest. My mother’s gaze constantly darted between the three of us as she tried to intimidate us into submission. She’d already won, and yet, she still continued to fight.

Dinner transitioned into dessert, and I was ready to be done with this charade. I still needed to finish my homework, and it was going to be a late night. However, if I asked to be excused, my father would take it as a sign that I wasn’t able to handle my classes. He had always assumed I would fail, and I wouldn’t give him any reason to pull me from school. It was my family that caused me unnecessary grief. The only way to survive was to lower my eyes to my lap and keep my lips sealed.

My father pulled the napkin from his lap, wiping flakes of honey off of his lips. He sat the cloth next to his plate and reached over to caress Irini’s cheek. The movement caught my eye as I brought my fork up to my mouth. Pausing with my fork in the air, I waited on the edge of my seat for my father’s revelation. There was always a hidden motive, and my father relished being the head of the family, picking which bits of news to reveal for the most affective damage.

“Ilya Volkov came to see me today,” he said, sitting back in his chair, his hands placed over his stomach. There was a smirk forming at the corner of his lips, and whatever he was going to say next would be another twist in our family’s tangled web of secrets.

The name was clearly Russian, but I couldn’t place it. I tried to run through the names of the leading Bratva cell that ruled the eastern end of the city, but my mind drew a blank.

“He asked for your hand, Irini.”

I sat my fork down, no longer interested in the piece of baklava on my dessert plate. There was no doubt in my mind that the Russian had kept his promise. Part of me wanted to giggle and bounce in my chair like a girl with a crush. I wanted to question my father about the meeting. Did he ask about me? What did he say, exactly? Instead, I buried the fantasy and clasped my hands in my lap, my knuckles turning white from the grip.

“Irini, you’re going to make me a rich man,” my father told her. He looked at her as if she was his prized possession. Irini didn’t even flinch as my father’s fingers brushed her cheek again, but the slight tremor of her hand as she pushed the pastry around her plate didn’t escape my notice. I believed Irini had buried her soul deep within her, in a place where no one could cause her any more pain. It was the only thought that kept me from breaking down every time I saw her.

My mother broke the silence that had settled around the table. “Isn’t he that up-and-coming Russian they mentioned the other day in church? The one who’s opened those two banquet halls along our southeastern border?”

“Yes,” my father replied. “He owns several high-end restaurants, but I noticed they were expanding into catering halls this past year. I asked around when they appeared, in case we would have an issue, but they say he’s one of the best bosses their Pahkan has. If this goes well, we’ll put one of his restaurants in the casino and use the catering for the events, among other things.”

“How fortuitous,” my mother responded as she happily clapped her hands. If they knew I had arranged Irini’s second marriage, she wouldn’t be faking so much happiness.

“How disgusting! We’re selling Irini off again?” Katalina piped up. Without even missing a beat, my mother smacked her across the mouth.

“Not at the dinner table,” she told her.

Kat cracked up laughing. I tried to stay under the radar, but Katalina pushed any boundary she could. One day, my father would snap, and unfortunately, she’d be in the firing zone .

“Toula,” my father directed at me. “I’ve been thinking about letting you work on your own club. The Italians have Euphoria, and we should have something similar. Volkov must have ears on the street because he knew and offered to help you with the catering when the time is right. Seemed to think it would be an excellent learning opportunity for you,” my father said. “I told him we would think about it, but that you’re not ready.” Of course, I’m not ready. I’m a woman. That’s all that matters here. I sighed internally as the conversation moved on around me.

Every man in my life had let me down at one point or another. My father was a tyrant, constantly making degrading comments solely based on my gender. My bodyguard constantly left me to fend for myself while he chased skirts. Even Markos, my sister’s bodyguard, had failed to protect her. I’d never expected the Russian to keep his end of the bargain when so many others hadn’t cared to in the past. Once Junior was dead, I should have realized this day would come, but I had blocked it out, only thinking about my future. The future that was now going to include paying a debt with my life.

I picked up my fork, trying to finish my dessert for something to do. I wasn’t hungry, but I needed something else to focus on. It all tasted like sand in my mouth, and if I wasn’t careful, it would bury me alive. One small bite sat in my stomach like lead, and all I wanted to do was leave the table.

Eventually, they excused us, and I hurriedly fled to my bedroom. As I shut the door behind me, my eyes immediately went towards my bed. Walking closer, I noticed immediately that there was a red rose lying on my pillow. Someone had been in my personal space, and I didn’t like it .

As I picked up the rose, I twirled it in my hand before I reached for the note attached with a black ribbon. It was an omen, a sign that the Russian hadn’t forgotten me.

Little Fox -

I’ll see you soon.

-I

I stared at the rose as if it was a mark of death. No matter what I had thought, Irini’s savior was planning on keeping his end of the deal, and all he wanted was me. Some depraved part of me wanted to throw everything I’d worked for away and run to him.

I finally let myself feel what I had concealed at dinner. I held the rose tightly to my chest and let out a squeal. It was dumb, but I relished in someone finally taking an interest in me. Me, and only me. Dancing around the room, I pretended that nothing else existed. It never crossed my mind that he might use me to increase his social standing, leaving me no better off than I was under my father’s thumb.

I didn’t care if it was all a lie. It felt authentic enough to make me forget everything else.