Chapter Four

I was still a little hung over from my seventeenth birthday party the day before. Leonas’s gift had been a flask with vodka that had given me a nice buzz throughout my very adult-controlled party.

Unfortunately, today my family and I were invited over to the Clark’s for dinner. Clifford’s parents had finally told their son about our future marriage and now we were supposed to meet officially. He and I hadn’t talked since Santino had embarrassed me in front of him years ago and I’d never felt the need to get closer to him. Eventually we wouldn’t have a choice but until then I wanted to pretend my future was still a mystery.

One thing was sure: I wasn’t in the mood for this kind of surely frosty dinner but as usual, social obligations were more important than personal preferences. I never complained. Mom and Dad didn’t either, and I knew they had as much interest in spending the evening with the Clarks as I did.

The Clark’s house was a splendid mansion that they’d recently moved into. Mr. Clark probably said it was his wife’s family money or his senator’s salary that allowed him to own a place like this on the Chicago Gold Coast. I had my own suspicions regarding his recent rise in liquid funds. If there was one thing the Outfit had more than enough of, it was money. I really hoped Dad didn’t have to bribe the Clarks into marrying Clifford to me. That would have been icky.

A maid in a light gray uniform opened the door when we rang and led us into a big living room with plush carpeting and elegant white sofas. The entire Clark family was waiting for us, perfectly arranged beside the marble fireplace and all dressed up as if they were about to go to the opera.

Mrs. Clark wore a floor-length elegant dress in purple and Mr. Clark a dark-three-piece suit. Clifford stood ram-rod straight beside his father. He was a couple of inches taller than his old man but wore a suit very similar to his. Only his unruly dark-blond locks deviated from his politician looks and gave him a surfer-boy appearance. The icing on the cake were Clifford’s twin sisters. Someone had forced them to wear matching white cocktail dresses and tied white bows into their two side pigtails as if they were five and not twelve. They both smiled like creepy murder dolls. Not that a single Clark mastered a somewhat convincing smile.

Leonas exchanged a look with me, muttering under his breath, “What institution did the killer dolls escape from?”

I almost snickered but managed to keep a straight face. Sometimes it was unsettling how similar our minds worked.

“Good thing Bea stayed at home. She would have started crying the second she saw those creepy smiles,” Leonas continued, oblivious to Mom’s warning expression.

I nudged him. “Shhh.”

Clifford didn’t take his eyes off me while I shook hands with his parents and exchanged dishonest pleasantries with them. He looked almost… confused, as if he simply couldn’t believe that I was his future wife. I wondered if he’d argued with his parents. He wasn’t bound to the same rules like people in our world, so what was stopping him from refusing to marry me?

Mr. Clark pointed at his son with a benevolent smile. “This is my son Clifford.”

“We know each other from tennis practice,” Clifford said in a voice that suggested it wasn’t the first time he’d told his father.

I nodded and extended my hand, even if it felt awkward to greet my future husband with a handshake.

After that, we all settled at the table. The atmosphere was tense. Especially Clifford’s sisters were obviously wary of us as if they thought we might pull guns at the table and shoot them all.

Even though Clifford and I sat across from each other, we didn’t talk much except for “Would you mind passing me the bowl?” and avoided eye contact. Mom tried to catch my gaze during dinner, her expression questioning. I gave her a quick smile before I focused on dessert once again.

When the maid pushed a trolley with digestif bottles over to the table, I said to Clifford, “This place looks really big.” I hoped he’d get my cue.

“Do you want a tour of the house?” Clifford asked with a pleasant smile, finally meeting my eyes.

I got the feeling he wanted to escape the tense atmosphere and not-so-veiled complaints from his parents as much as I did.

“Yes, please.”

I glanced at Dad who gave a curt nod. I pushed to my feet and gave Leonas a forbidding look, lest he might consider joining us. I wanted a word with Clifford alone and not have my brother poking his nose into things that didn’t concern him.

Clifford made an inviting gesture toward the door. I walked back out into the foyer, feeling lighter with every step that took me farther away from the rest of the Clarks. It was one of the very few occasions away from home that I was allowed to be without either my parents or Santino, and that too felt good for once.

“Do you really want a tour of the house?” Clifford asked the moment the door was closed.

I shook my head. “Not really. I just wanted to escape and I’m not too keen on returning any time soon.”

“Me neither. How about we go to my room? Nobody will bother us there.”

“Lead the way.”

Clifford still kept up his public smile as he led me through the lobby. “The walls have ears.”

I gave him a questioning look.

“We’ve had some problems with personnel in the past.”

I nodded and followed Clifford into another hallway that led to an annex.

“This was meant to be the pool house but my parents turned it into my own place.”

We stepped into the house which had a big living space with a couch, ginormous flatscreen TV, a kitchen unit, and a pool table. It had a direct view of the pool and the gardens. A pebbled pathway also led from the pool house back to the porch of the main house. There was a door to my left, where I suspected the bedroom to be. I was glad Clifford didn’t show it to me, because that would have undoubtedly become awkward.

Clifford leaned against the pool table and finally dropped the constant smile.

“How long have you known about us?”

His voice wasn’t unfriendly but I caught the hint of accusation.

“Since I was thirteen. Remember back when I watched you that one day and you and your friends snickered? That was a day after I found out.”

“My friends thought you had a crush on me.” He chuckled then regarded me curiously. “That’s not the case, right?”

I burst out laughing. “No, it’s not. And that’s not why our parents decided to match us if that’s what you think. Only tactical reasons have led to the union, not emotions.”

“That’s a consolation, I suppose?” Clifford said wryly, his face scrunched up in obvious puzzlement. Poor guy.

“You were really rude to me that day.”

“Was I? It must have been bad if you still remember after all this time.”

“I have the memory of an elephant, especially when it comes to people being rude to me.”

Clifford rubbed the back of his head, still uncomfortable but I could tell he was slowly loosening up. “What did I do?”

“You got mad because I interrupted your tennis match.”

“Ahh, I’m competitive. Sorry. I loathe losing, so I can get really rude if people disturb my concentration.”

“Good to know.”

“Taking notes for our marriage?”

“Definitely.”

Clifford shook his head. “This is really strange. Nobody from my friends is engaged yet, or even thinking about it.”

“I can’t say the same. It’s common in our world for people to be promised as kids or teens.”

“That’s what I hear.”

I could hear a hint of disapproval in his tone and it made me want to defend our way of living, but I held back. I didn’t want an argument on this day. “But we’re not officially engaged yet. We need to have an engagement party and an official announcement.”

“My father wants to wait until we’re both eighteen.”

Dad had mentioned it. It was uncommon in our world to wait this long, especially if one party was as high profile as me.

“They make it out to be some kind of star-crossed lovers thing. Apparently, that’s what will sell this bond to the doubters,” Clifford continued.

“Who can resist true love against all odds?”

Clifford’s lips curled.

“You don’t believe in true love?”

“I only believe in things I can see.”

“Your parents don’t love each other?”

Clifford smiled in a disarming way. “Do yours?”

I smiled in turn and looked around the room. My parents most definitely loved each other. Sharing family secrets was way too personal for us at this point. Though, I wasn’t sure I’d ever trust Clifford enough to divulge any secrets of importance to him. “I guess this is good for parties and for having girls over without being interrupted.”

Clifford tilted his head, watching me closely. “Jealous?”

I chuckled. “Not one bit.”

It was true. It didn’t feel as if Clifford were mine and I didn’t feel the desire to claim him as mine. That would probably come once we were married. Now the word jealousy only brought up one name: Santino.

He nodded but didn’t stop the staring. He seemed to want to figure me out. It would take him years to do so if I allowed it.

“Are you a virgin?”

I couldn’t believe he asked that. “What?” In our circles, it was offensive to ask a girl something like that and to implicate that she might not be a virgin.

“Just curious. It’s none of my business anyway.”

“No?” I asked curiously, sauntering over to him. “Shouldn’t you guard me until our wedding night so I stay untouched?”

“Hell no,” Clifford exclaimed, looking honestly put off. “Waiting until marriage, where’s the fun?” He scanned me once more, lingering on my long legs. Today I’d picked an outfit I had designed myself and then let one of our maids who was a talented seamstress sew it for me. It was a cutesy blazer with flowy gossamer sleeves and a narrow waist with a silk bow and matching shorts that looked like a skirt. My legs looked particularly long in it and my high white heels only helped.

“Ahh, you want to sample the goods in advance.”

“I want to sample plenty of goods, believe me, not just yours.”

My eyebrows shot up. “So you won’t even pretend to be faithful?”

Clifford got serious. “Listen, Anna, I know you’re from a conservative background, but I have no intention of settling down with one girl right now and I definitely won’t stay celibate until we marry. As far as I’m concerned, we have a pre-contract but the real contract won’t get into effect until our wedding day. From that day on we can be faithful if that’s what you want but until then we’re not a couple and I’ll sleep around.”

I hadn’t expected Clifford to be this direct. I liked it, just not what he proposed. Even if I wasn’t jealous, that didn’t mean I wanted to be insulted by constant sleeping around.

He must have seen my fury because he quickly went on, “You’re free to do the same of course.”

My lips parted in shock. “You want me to sleep with other men?”

He laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, but I don’t care what you do until we’re married as long as you are discreet and keep it out of the tabloids. I don’t want to give my mother more reason to eat her pills like skittles.”

I could tell he regretted his words the second they left his lips. Pill abuse was definitely a secret worth filing away for later use.

“You really won’t feel cheated if I’m not a virgin on our first night together?” I asked, suspicious of his motives. Maybe he was trying to lure me into a trap and test my virtue. Maybe his words about his mother taking too many pills was also false and a way to make me lower my guards.

Clifford shook his head, looking mildly nauseated. “I’ll be blunt. I’ll be glad if you aren’t. I’m not in the business of deflowering girls. I’m not into blood play. No sex during periods and no virgins, which is basically the same.”

I burst out laughing. I fumbled in the pocket of my skirt, which was discreetly hidden in the big elegant pleats, for a cigarette. “May I? Or do you want me to go outside?”

Shock crossed Clifford’s face. “You smoke?”

I shrugged. “Sometimes. When I’m stressed, mostly.”

“I stress you out?”

“You caught me by surprise. I thought you’d be different.”

“Many people do,” he said cryptically, then motioned at my cigarette. “Go ahead.” He pulled a packet from a drawer and lit a cigarette for himself.

After he blew out smoke, he said, “I’m not a virgin, by the way.”

“I didn’t ask,” I said with a laugh. “But thanks for the info.”

I wasn’t even curious when he’d lost it or to whom, but it made me want to ask Santino about his first time. I couldn’t imagine Santino as a fumbling virgin.

Clifford regarded me closely. “And if you are a virgin, then have some fun. Just make sure you don’t leave me at the altar. A scandal’s rarely a good start to a political career.”

“Ambitious.”

“Absolutely.”

I nodded. “That’s good. I want a man who knows what he wants.”

“I do. I want to be president one day, that’s all I care about.”

I tried to see myself at Clifford’s side in a few years, being the doting politician’s wife. It would be a life full of duties and few freedoms, but that would have been my fate in any marriage.

The Christmas party was in full swing. Music floated through the room, some upbeat jazz that had everyone over thirty swaying back and forth as if it was a disco tune. For some reason everyone thought jazz was the perfect music for a party. This being my fifth Christmas party of the season, and it was only the beginning of December, I couldn’t stand it anymore. Today it was the Christmas party of the Alferas, one of Dad’s captains who handled our drug deliveries to Canada. I was one of the few guests under eighteen, and neither Sofia nor Luisa were invited. As the Capo’s daughter, I always had to be at social events, no matter how much of a bore they turned out to be. All the girls who envied me for being at so many parties throughout the year had never suffered through an endless string of awkward jokes and horrid music.

Maybe I’d find the music more tolerable once I was drunk like many of the adults. I scanned my surroundings. Mom and Dad were talking to Mom’s best friend Bibiana and her husband Dario on the patio, and Santino had disappeared fifteen minutes ago so he wasn’t there to stop me. I’d mastered the art of sneaking alcohol into my drinks at parties last Christmas season. I found it ridiculous that I was supposed to abide to drinking laws when ordinary laws pretty much didn’t hold meaning in our world. There was no way in hell I’d wait almost four years to have alcohol.

My hand snuck up to the bowl with punch and quickly filled my glass with it before anyone could notice. As I sipped my drink, I allowed my eyes to scan the guests. After a while, I grew bored—I knew everyone and there was no new gossip afloat—and decided to find Santino. Teasing him definitely brought me more joy than any of this. He was too easily riled up. Sometimes I was sure he enjoyed it as much as I did. Other times I was concerned for my safety.

Taking another sip, I slipped out of the living room. The sounds of the party were too loud to search for him by noise, and he was a master at blending in. I strolled through the first floor for a while, enjoying my drink, before I followed my gut instinct to the back of the house. Santino probably needed some quiet. Polite conversation always made him murderous, so he probably needed time to himself. I didn’t feel guilty in the slightest for wanting to disturb him. His anger was the hottest thing there was.

A strange noise came from behind a heavy oak door. I’d gotten a tour of the Alfera’s house last year so I knew it was the library. I slipped in as quietly as I could and closed the door behind me.

I loved books, so I took a moment to marvel at the many spines on the shelves, even if the room wasn’t as big as ours. I had a feeling this wasn’t a place that was used very often. Many people in our circles had a library as a status symbol and not because they enjoyed literature.

A wheeze caught my attention and I tiptoed farther into the room.

My mouth fell open as I spotted Santino’s upper body peeking out behind a shelf. Santino had his fingers wrapped around the throat of none other than Mrs. Alfera, the wife of Dad’s captain. Her lips were parted, her face red. Apart from his head, I only saw his forearm and hand, the rest of him was hidden behind the bookshelf. Mrs. Alfera was kneeling, judging from her propped-up arms.

Had he lost his mind? I rushed forward and froze, my eyes growing wide. “Oh fuck.”

In the truest sense of the word. Santino wasn’t trying to kill Mrs. Alfera with his bare hands, at least not in the immediate future. They were both naked from the waist down and Santino was banging her, looking as if he wanted to kill her. Death by dick.

Heat flooded my body. My eyes darted from their naked lower regions back up to the hand around her throat. This all happened in a heartbeat but felt like the most awkward eternity in history.

Mrs. Alfera let out a strangled cry, her eyes widening comically. Screaming because someone caught you cheating when you were only a few doors down from your husband wasn’t the cleverest thing if you asked me. Santino released her throat and shoved to his feet. Of course, I stared at his erection. And holy shit, holy shit, I was surprised he hadn’t killed Mrs. Alfera considering how hard he’d hammered into her with that. Death by dick indeed. A laugh bubbled out of me, completely inappropriate, but I couldn’t help it.

He staggered toward me and considering his furious expression and the overall situation, I should probably have fled the scene, but I couldn’t. He grabbed my upper arm with one hand while his other tried to shove his still very erect cock into his pants, which wasn’t working. Part of me worried he might do lasting damage to his member. Still, I watched in amusement. I took a sip from my drink, only increasing Santino’s fury.

“Stop staring,” he snarled.

“I could help you with that,” I said before I could think it through. I didn’t mean it like that. Despite all the teasing, I’d never been daring enough to flirt with Santino in such a forward way. Maybe because it would have given away too much, and probably would have only made Santino annoyed.

Santino’s grip tightened further. “Don’t even joke about it, girl. I won’t get killed because your dad misconstrues your words. And I especially won’t get killed for the unpleasant fumbling of a stuffy virgin.”

I stared at him wide-eyed, unable to believe his audacity. I was used to his rudeness by now, but this took it to a new level. “Do you kill all the women you bang or only the married women to hide evidence?” I hissed.

“She wanted me to grab her throat. Some women get off when their air supply is cut off. You wouldn’t understand.” He finally managed to close his fly, but there was still a bulge in his pants.

“If she tells anyone, I’m ruined,” Mrs. Alfera whimpered, stuffing her silk blouse back into her skirt. Good luck with the wrinkles. I hoped she had a discreet maid who’d iron that for her. “Silence her.”

Santino slanted her an annoyed look. “Return to the party.”

She staggered closer. “You have to silence her. If she tells anyone—”

“Shut up and let me handle it.”

She finally left.

“I hope she didn’t suggest you kill me,” I said sarcastically.

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said in a low voice.

“What will you do to silence me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Stop being a bratty child. You know the consequences if word about this gets out.”

“Banging a captain’s wife would definitely cause quite the scandal. Dad would have to act.”

He tilted his head, eyes narrowed.

“I won’t tell anyone,” I muttered.

Santino nodded, satisfied. His eyes registered my drink. “What is that?”

“Nothing that concerns you. You have your secrets, I have mine, right?”

He stepped back, his jaw flexing. “Don’t overdo it, all right?”

I ignored his warning. The scale had tipped in my favor for now even if he didn’t like it.

I touched my throat with a frown, trying to imagine why anyone would find it pleasurable to be unable to breathe. Santino followed the movement, and he shook his head, looking even more pissed.

“I don’t know what reason you have to be angry at me,” I muttered, getting angrier. “You just made sure I’d have nightmares for months, possibly years. Good job violating my virgin eyes.”

To be honest, I’d probably have several very good orgasms while I imagined Santino doing to me what he’d done to Mrs. Alfera.

Santino searched my eyes. “Don’t take what you saw as an example of how it always is. It can be very different.” His voice had become gentler, almost comforting, which was such a novelty that I must have looked even more perturbed.

“Anna?” Santino murmured, touching my shoulder lightly.

A laugh burst out of me. I couldn’t help it. Seeing Santino concerned for my mental well-being because of his kinky show with Mrs. Alfera was too much to handle.

Santino jerked his hand back, his lips twisted. Oh, someone was grumpy.

The door creaked, interrupting whatever rude thing he’d had to say.

Voices drifted over to us. Santino grabbed my arm and pulled me behind a bookshelf. It took me a moment to recognize the voice as Dario’s, who seemed to be talking on the phone with someone.

I glared up at Santino. “Don’t you think it would have looked less suspicious if you hadn’t dragged me behind the shelf? Now it looks as if we’re hiding something.” Mom would definitely be very suspicious if she found us, or if Dario told Dad, which he’d definitely do.

Santino silenced me with a hard look. We stood close together as we waited for the conversation to be over. Our shoulders brushed lightly and Santino’s heat seemed to scorch me through the silky material of my dress.

I would probably have appreciated the situation more if I hadn’t caught the whiff of a female perfume on him. I leaned away slightly, muttering, “You should probably wash Mrs. Alfera’s stink off before you return to the party. I doubt her husband will be happy if he smells it on you.”

“Thanks for your concern. This isn’t my first rodeo.”

“So you’re making a habit out of being a homewrecker?”

“That home was already lacking a foundation, it would have crashed down anyway.”

I rolled my eyes. “I suppose that’s what they all say.”

“Maybe you don’t realize it but this is none of your damn business, Anna. You better make sure Cliffy keeps his hands to himself, instead of worrying about me.”

What was that supposed to mean? Clifford and I had spoken twice since our family dinner and he’d found out about our future marriage, both times during tennis practice, and so far Clifford had shown as much interest in me as a monk. He was focused on school and college and a future in politics, and I was busy with school, designing clothes and… Santino.