Chapter Two

I sat on the grass and dragged the pencil over the paper. The late afternoon sun warmed my back.

It had taken me hours to convince Santino to take me out into nature so I could draw something else than the inside of our house or backyard. He’d eventually taken me to a park close to home and ever since acted as if I was air.

I slanted another look at him. He stood a few steps to my right with his arms crossed as he surveyed our surroundings. Anyone with half a mind would have known he was my bodyguard.

I scratched the pencil over the paper as I tried to get the sharp line of his jaw and the foreboding scowl right. Santino had been my favorite model for a while now, of course, he didn’t know. I could imagine what he’d say if he knew all our trips to different locations had been pointless because it was always him that I drew. Sometimes I took liberty with his clothes and changed them to attire from another century to get my creative juices flowing. Today I picked a cowboy hat and cowboy boots for his outfit.

His eyes cut to me and as usual, the harsh glint in them sent a pleasant shiver down my back. Nobody else made me feel this way, definitely not the childish boys at my age.

People wanted to please me. I didn’t have trouble winning people over to my side, but my social skills were completely useless against Santino’s stubbornness. He wanted to hate the job and thus dislike me, and wouldn’t allow himself to feel differently.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew my crush on Santino was completely ridiculous for various reasons, the main one him being ten years older than me. Still, I sometimes dreamed about how it would be once I was older.

I returned my focus back to my drawing, shading the cowboy breeches. Lost in my thoughts, I realized too late when a shadow fell over me. My head shot up to find Santino glaring down at me and my drawing of him.

“You shouldn’t draw me,” he growled, ripping the paper from my clipboard.

“You have a very prominent jaw. It’s an appealing object,” I said.

I could see Santino thought I was out of my mind. “And why the hell did you make me look like a cowboy?”

I shrugged. “It’s getting boring to draw you in jeans, shirt, and leather jacket all the time.”

Santino shook his head, muttering something under his breath, and tore my drawing apart.

“Hey!” I shouted as I jumped up and tried to rip the remains of my work from his hands. It was futile. Santino simply blocked me with his side and calmly crumpled the paper pieces into a tiny ball. “Don’t draw me, Anna. If I have to answer to your father because he finds drawings of me in your room, I’ll be pissed.”

“And how’s that different from your usual mood?” I asked haughtily. “You’re practically Grumpy Cat in mobster form.”

Santino only stared me down but I was used to his dark expression, and stubbornly stared back. “We’ll return home now and you’ll hand over all of your drawings of me, understood?”

“Understood.”

Back at home, Santino followed me into my room like a thunderous shadow and watched as I opened the upper drawer of my desk, where I kept most of my drawings of Santino. I handed him about two dozen drawings. He browsed them, shaking his head occasionally, and one time his brows rose very high. I assumed it was the drawing of him in the wardrobe of Louis XIV.

He leveled his eyes on me and narrowed them. “There are more.”

I made an innocent face.

Santino pointed at the drawing at the top of the pile. “This isn’t as good and detailed as the drawing I saw today. That means you’ve made progress since then and because you’re such a little overachiever, you’ll keep your best drawings separately to admire them.”

I flushed and for the briefest moment, my gaze flitted to my nightstand. Santino staggered toward it and tried to open the drawer but it was locked. I didn’t want Leonas to get blackmailing material on me. Santino felt under the bed and then smirked. My mouth fell open when he pulled out the little key that I’d taped to the underside of my bed frame and opened the drawer.

“That’s private!” I hissed, but he’d already picked up a stack of fifteen drawings of him. The one at the top showed Santino holding hands with my adult self. I’d used a computer app to age me and then drawn myself beside Santino.

I really hoped he wouldn’t recognize me. The stare he gave me crushed my hope. “What’s this?”

I swallowed and shrugged.

“I know this is supposed to be you, Anna. I recognize you, not to mention the ridiculous checkered Chanel costume no one else under the age of seventy would wear.”

“Chanel is fashion, no matter the age,” I said indignantly.

“You won’t draw me ever again, understood? This is my last warning.”

He stalked out, not waiting for my reply.

Embarrassment still warmed my cheeks and I was on the verge of an angry cry when I realized something: Santino had paid enough attention to my drawings to notice the differences in my progress over the last few months.

A grin spread on my face.

“Anna?” Mom called and pushed the door that Santino had left ajar farther open, poking her head in.

“Can I have a word with you?”

I picked up on the tension around Mom’s mouth. She shared the same full lips with me, but now hers looked like a hard line. Had Santino snitched on me? I couldn’t imagine it. “Is anything wrong?”

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Mom said as she came in and sank down on the padded bench in the window frame.

I sank down beside her, wondering what this was about.

“With your thirteenth birthday coming up very soon, your dad and I thought now might be a good time to discuss your future with you.”

This didn’t come completely unexpected. As the Capo’s daughter, everyone was waiting with bated breath to whom I’d be promised. “Okay?”

“Your father and I have spent the last few months thinking about a possible bond. We didn’t want to rush things, especially because the boy we have in mind for you might come as unexpected.”

I’d heard rumors of me being married to someone from the Corsican Union to strengthen the Outfit, but I knew Dad. He’d never allow me to become part of another mafia family. He’d be too concerned about my safety. Dad wouldn’t even let me leave Chicago, even if that would limit my possible future husbands drastically. An Underboss’s son would never want to leave his city for me.

“You know Clifford Clark, don’t you?”

My mouth formed an O. He wasn’t someone I’d had in mind when marriage was concerned. “We play tennis together.” Together was a loose term in this case. He and I had never really played double or against each other, but we played in the same club, and on occasion, our tennis coach had created groups of his students to work on certain skills. A few times Clifford and I had been in the same group, but apart from a quick “hi” we’d never exchanged an actual conversation. He always had a pack of friends around him like an entourage.

“Your dad’s been working with his father. The cooperation is important for the Outfit and we’re trying to create a stronger bond between our families. Having connections to the political elite can be an advantage.”

I racked my brain for my latest memory of him. It had been several months ago. He and a few boys had sat on the bleachers while Luisa and I had played tennis. Clifford was tall and blond, kind of handsome. If only my hair were blond, all the people who begged for a golden couple would have a field day. I giggled, causing Mom to give me a look of puzzlement.

“I just thought that he’d be perfect to satisfy the golden couple enthusiasts. But Leonas would probably have to take my place.”

Mom laughed. “These golden couple rumors won’t ever stop.”

I knew many had wanted Dad to marry someone other than Mom exactly for that reason.

Mom put her hand over mine. “You’re taking it better than I thought you might.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I’m surprised, but I don’t see why I should be worried. Everyone has an arranged marriage.” Then I pursed my lips, wondering why Mom was worried. “Or do you think I won’t belong in the Outfit anymore if I marry an outsider?”

“Sweetheart, you’ll always be part of the Outfit. Your marriage to someone like Clifford would help the Outfit, which everyone will appreciate greatly. His family is very influential and if his father becomes senator, this will only improve.”

I nodded. The Outfit would be untouchable if we had the support of an important political family. I knew Dad worried a lot about our safety and the strength of the Outfit. If I could help him, why wouldn’t I do it?

“And you would have more freedoms in a marriage with an outsider. You could study art, maybe even work in the field. Our men aren’t as liberal.”

“Have you and Dad already agreed to the marriage?”

“No,” Mom said immediately. “I wanted to talk to you first.”

I bit my lip. It was strange thinking of marrying someone I barely knew, or thinking about marriage at all. Whenever it had crossed my mind, it had been a very distant idea. Now it became reality. “Can I talk to him during training tomorrow? I want to get a feel for him.”

Mom smiled. “Of course, but he doesn’t suspect anything. His family doesn’t want to divulge anything to him until things are more concrete.”

“I won’t tell him anything. I’ll find an excuse for wanting to chat with him.”

“You’re a clever girl. I’m sure he won’t suspect anything.” Mom kissed my temple. “Tell me how it went, okay?”

Luisa looked more nervous than me, as if she had to marry Clifford. After we’d gotten dressed in our white tennis skirts and matching shirts, she and I headed for the tennis courts. My gaze swiped the wide hall until I found Clifford in the second to last court, playing against one of his friends, a boy of Asian descent, whose name I didn’t know.

The court beside them was vacant so I steered Luisa toward it.

“Stop staring at them as if you have something to hide,” I muttered as we entered the court. Luisa didn’t have a deceiving bone in her body. She was way too good. We were like good cop and bad cop.

She flushed. “I can’t help it!”

“Focus on the ball,” I said and tossed her a tennis ball before I took up position on the other side of the net. Only a low barrier separated our tennis court from the next one where Clifford and the other boy were engaged in a heated match.

Luisa and I played back and forth for a while before I fired the ball to Clifford’s side. I jogged over to the barrier. Clifford picked up the ball with a scowl. “Hey, pay attention to where you’re pitching your ball. You disrupted our game.”

He tossed the ball over to me, not even bothering to come closer. I pursed my lips. Rude. He was as I’d remembered him, tall, blond wavy hair and lanky limbs.

His rudeness rubbed me the wrong way. I turned back around in a sour mood.

Luisa shrugged. I didn’t bother another contact attempt, and listening in on their conversation was moot. They were too focused on their match.

Later at the juice bar, I tried my luck again and settled on a bar chair close to Clifford and his friend. Their conversation about Lacrosse almost had me fall asleep. Soon two more boys joined him and his friend.

I’d never paid much attention to Clifford Clark, and now I knew why. We didn’t share the same crowd or interests. He was the preppy, polo-wearing, teacher-pet kind of guy. Their track records were as squeaky clean as their tennis attire.

I knew their parents had their own secrets, but they weren’t as dark as the ones mine carried. Clifford and I came from vastly different worlds. He and his friends thought they were tough. I knew what real toughness looked like. I wasn’t sure if I could ever like someone like him, much less respect him.

Mom had asked yesterday if I could imagine marrying Clifford one day. I’d always known I’d have an arranged marriage. For a Capo’s daughter, there wasn’t another option. Right this moment, I had a hard time considering Clifford as anything.

The four boys migrated to a table in the dining room of the tennis club, ordering sandwiches, fries, and sodas. At least in that regard, they weren’t as pretentious as they looked. If Clifford had ordered an acai bowl or tuna sashimi, I would have drawn a line.

Santino appeared in the doorway, obviously tired of waiting. “What’s taking you so long? Can’t you take your green juices to go?”

I rolled my eyes. “We need to relax after training. Give us a few more minutes.”

Santino perched on a vacant barstool. The girl working the counter immediately sauntered over to him, tossing her hair in a flirty way. “What can I do for you? Maybe a nice Ginger booster? It’s spicy and will give you an extra kick.”

Santino’s expression almost had me laughing out loud.

Santino got his kicks in a very different way, most of them involved knives and guns.

“Black coffee, as strong as possible.”

She smiled almost reproachfully. “Too much caffeine isn’t conducive to your health.”

I knew what he was thinking: Pissing me off neither…

Luisa nudged me, dragging my focus away from Santino and back to the table with my possible future husband.

I still listened to Santino and the girl while Luisa and I watched Clifford inconspicuously.

“I’m good,” Santino said sharply when the girl didn’t stop pestering him with juice suggestions and finally she took her clue.

“He looks kind of nice,” Luisa said, eyeing Clifford critically.

He wasn’t bad looking. He was almost too pretty for a boy. I shrugged. “He’s a boy. A rich boy.”

“And you’re a rich girl,” Santino commented.

I jumped, my cheeks flaming. Indignation filled me as I glanced over my shoulder at Santino who’d snuck up on us. He was always close, but I hadn’t thought he’d listen in on our conversation.

“She’s a Capo’s daughter,” Luisa said almost shocked, then smiled awkwardly.

“Thanks for the heads up,” Santino drawled. He cast his eyes skywards, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath. “How much longer will it take you to stalk these boys? I don’t have the patience for awkward pre-teen crushes.”

He hadn’t bothered lowering his voice. Clifford and the other guys slanted us looks and then the Asian boy nudged Clifford with a grin and they all began snickering.

I scowled at Santino. “Great, now he thinks I have a crush on him.”

I hopped off the barstool and headed toward the car, Luisa hot on my heels. Santino sauntered after us, almost bored. “Isn’t that the case?”

I shoved my fists into my sides. “No, it’s not. Mom and Dad are considering marrying me to Clifford Clark, the blond boy. He’s a politician’s son.”

Santino slanted me a look, his face reflecting boredom. “I’m sure they have their reasons,” he said in a manner that suggested he didn’t care what they were, nor that I’d marry at all.

I bit my lip and shut up. Santino had a way to make me feel stupid and like a little child without actually insulting me. His gaze said more than a thousand words.

The strange thing was, while Clifford’s rudeness today made me want to stay away from him, Santino’s abrasiveness only made me more eager to be around him.

When Mom came into my room that evening to talk about Clifford, I didn’t tell her about my doubts. I could tell how important it would be for the Outfit and I wanted to do my part in helping.

“This won’t be public for a long time. And from what I gathered the Clarks won’t tell Clifford now. They want to wait until he’s older and can grasp the reasons for their decision.”

I nodded. For people outside of our mafia world, arranged marriages were rare. His parents probably worried he wouldn’t be able to handle the situation or let something slip to others by accident. I had to admit I was glad he wouldn’t know until later. That way I wouldn’t have to talk to him again soon.

I was proud that my parents knew I was strong enough to handle my future like this. I wanted to keep making them proud, even if that meant putting up with Clifford.