Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

R aphaella

I'd once loved my father's house a long time before, running up and down the stairs, playing hide and seek. Even my father had joined in on several occasions, acting as if I couldn't be found. I'd never forget how often he'd made me fly, spinning me around as if I was the queen of the world.

For some reason, my heart was heavy as I walked inside. The place was the same, my mother and father decorating to the hilt for various holidays, my mother's love of fresh flowers something that had remained. There were always beautiful vases in the house.

It was a good memory I had with her, which were fewer and further between. We'd picked flowers from various garden sites together, even wildflowers in the wild. She'd given me the love as well.

There was no sign of my brother or sister, both still living at home. Sophia was of an age she could venture out on her own, but she didn't have the same spirit I did. Plus, I had a feeling our father was even more conditional with her. Money was important in this city, our trust funds well established. It wouldn't be long until I could get my hands on mine, which I knew was the last tether my father had with me. That likely bothered him significantly.

I smoothed down my dress before heading to the dining room. I don't know why, but seeing just two place settings caused my skin to crawl. Not that the entire family was usually together except on special holidays like Easter and Christmas dinner, but where was my mother? Maybe I didn't want to know at this point.

I found my father in his office, nursing a drink while standing in front of the window. At least he hadn't noticed me yet, concentrated heavily in thought. I hated the fact I was nervous around the man, but my instinct told me something was terribly wrong.

As soon as I took another step into the room, his body stiffened. "You're ten minutes late."

"The subway was late."

"You don't need to be taking the goddamn subway," he barked. "How many times have I told you that?" He was more irritated than normal, just another reason I should be nervous.

"Dad. I've told you time and time again, I need to make my own life."

His deep exhalation was another indication of just how displeased he was with my choices. I wasn't certain at all what to expect when he turned around but I could instantly tell by the disdainful look on his face he didn't approve of what I was wearing. I still had my hair in the same bun, although I'd removed my glasses. He didn't need to see the lengths I went to in order to try to hide who I was.

The fact there'd been double the usual number of soldiers protecting the exterior was another clear indication something was very off.

"You don't need to look dowdy all the time, Raphaella."

"I came from work. You demanded I come immediately. Don't you remember?"

He pointed his finger at me, which was new. It was also easier to see how angry he was. But I wasn't certain his rage that I didn't fit the Bernardi look was the reason his hand was shaking.

"Don't you backtalk me. I am still your father."

Sighing, I tried to hold my tongue. Arguing with him never did any good. When he got in his ‘mood,' it was easier to comply. I headed toward his bar, noticing an open bottle of wine. Given my mother drank white and Dad preferred his scotch, I was more than curious if he'd had a previous guest.

"I don't want to argue, Dad. It's obvious you had another reason for insisting I come to dinner."

"Sit down, Raphaella."

His command was dark, his eyes piercing mine. I was more uncomfortable than I'd ever been around him. Yes, I'd heard from Sophia my father's business had taken an odd turn. She couldn't provide any details because as the two daughters of the family, we'd never been privy to aspects of his business. What we'd learned over the years, including that he was a ruthless savage, we'd found on the internet.

We weren't stupid. We'd learned early on he was a mafia Don, an old school leader born in Sicily. While we'd never visited the country where he was born, the research I'd done in the Italian city had indicated a bloody past. I'd never been forced to give his world much of a second thought. I'd been born into an empire where soldiers had protected my family at all costs, following or driving us around as if chauffeurs. I also knew my father had been responsible for the murders of a solid dozen people. That much I'd overheard from an argument he'd had with my mother a long time ago. I'd been forced to remind myself that he'd been born into the empire; he hasn't chosen who or what he was.

I'd only really understood and appreciated living a free life when I'd moved out.

But to see him so agitated was unnerving.

I moved closer to his desk, trying to keep the glass of wine steady. As soon as I sat down, he took a few seconds to study me again before doing the same. He pulled out a manila file from his desk, keeping it closed after placing it directly in the center. My father was also anal, requiring almost perfect organization in his house and especially in his ranks. I could swear there was even a specific dress code for the men who worked for him. They always wore suits. I'd never seen one of them in anything else.

An even crazier thing was that I knew Dad owned several legitimate businesses, currently renovating an Italian restaurant, but he never talked about them. He'd never brought home a friend. And I didn't even know if he had a single female working for him. If I didn't love him so much, I'd call him a chauvinistic pig.

When he started talking, it took me a few seconds to truly listen to what he was saying. "Raphaella, you know I've done my best to be sensitive to your rather… ridiculous needs. From your sculpting to insisting you take some internship position, I've done my best to support you both emotionally and financially."

He didn't ask me whether that was right. He simply made a statement, his usual method of doing business. I took a little of the reins anyway, learning early on you needed to have a backbone around my father or the man would walk all over you.

"I know that, Dad. I'm old enough it was past time I had a life of my own." Well, that didn't go over well, his mouth suddenly pinching. "I'm an independent woman, doing nothing more than carving out a life I need to live." Why not throw caution to the wind?

He took a few seconds, leaning back in his chair. It was easy to tell he was fuming but somewhere inside his big, fat head, he knew I was right.

"You weren't raised to be independent whether you want to believe that or not. You were raised as a mafia princess, a woman destined to become bigger than yourself."

Okay, I was starting to get nervous. He'd never tossed the ‘mafia princess' phrase in my face this way. It had always been in jest, with laughter in his voice and a smile on his face. I took a deep breath, trying to curtail my anger. "What do you want, Dad?"

"The first rule of thumb in your life is to honor your family. That's something I've explained in detail to your brother and sister alongside you through the years."

Yes, he had. I did nothing more than nod. Loyalty and complete respect for his position was required. I'd heard of his brutality with men he'd believed had dishonored him.

"Good. I'm glad you understand your position within the family and it's not one I take lightly." He looked away for a few seconds. "I've made a decision, ultimately one that will be good for this family."

"A decision?" A feeling of faintness washed over me.

"Yes, it's time you contributed to this family, to accept what you were groomed for."

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't, Raphaella." He hissed at me, another first. "This is an important contract, one that will cement your place in the family history." He finally opened the file, removing a group of papers that had been stapled together.

"What is that?"

"This is a contract that you are required to sign. I've already done so, which means your signature is nothing more than a formality." He pushed it across the desk, sliding a pen beside it.

I was no longer just lightheaded. I was certain I'd vomit right here.

Not a ladylike thing to do.

I honestly didn't care. Now my fingers were shaking as I picked up the contract, trying my best to keep tears from welling in my eyes. The wetness won out, the salt burning my eyes and making it difficult to read let alone comprehend what I was reading. I flipped to page two and three, still struggling with my emotions. There was no way he was serious about this. There couldn't be.

"Now, I admit that the name of the person you're going to marry has yet to be determined, but at minimum I've been assured the second party will be of an elite societal status, worthy of your hand in marriage."

Marriage.

Wait a minute. I couldn't have heard him correctly. "I don't understand."

"What's not to understand? You're going to be married to a representative of the Bratva. In doing so, the insidious war that's been started between the two parties will come to an end. The tedious act of battle, the spilling of blood on the streets will cease, the alliance good for both parties."

"Just out of curiosity. What do you get personally out of this horrific contract?" I couldn't believe I was able to speak at all. I didn't care if I displeased him or if my question was considered disloyal. It did not matter. My life did.

"That's enough." He slammed his fist on the table. "You are doing this for your family. Now, sign the goddamn contract. You'll have some autonomy as to the events occurring around the upcoming wedding but don't get your hopes up too high. The idea is simply to provide a pathway to the future."

A pathway to the future. I took another look at the contract, the blank space where a name would be filled in giving me cold shivers. As I sat quietly, my mind needed to reflect on the good times I'd shared with my father and my entire family. There had been laughter and normal activities as any family would have.

I could remember when I was very young how he'd crowd me onto his lap, his favorite chair always positioned in front of the fire. He'd read me whatever book I wanted, usually one or two that I preferred hearing again and again. He'd been animated, acting as if reading to his little girl was more important than anything else in life.

I could remember his laughter when it was a birthday event and how he used to love dressing up as Babbo Natale , the Italian version of Santa Claus.

The shock was continuous, the reality of what he was suggesting dragging all the energy from me.

"Please note that you will be required to produce an heir within a year. That will continue the alliance well into the future."

My father was continuing on with details I couldn't stomach listening to much less live with. I'd never raised my voice to my father and had tried my best not to completely defy his wishes. My mother had taught me compromise was always in my best interest, but there was nothing about this sordid contract where I could find any middle ground.

I stood slowly, angrier than I'd been in my life. I had a difficult time believing this was real or that my mother had condoned it. Then again, my mother was nothing but a sheep, just a woman in his kinglike empire.

I knew what I was about to do would lose me my trust fund, but I refused to accept such a reprehensible and filthy alliance.

"No. I will not do it." I was interrupting him in mid conversation. Too bad. He needed to know right now where I stood. Blood in the streets of New York wasn't my concern.

He sucked in his breath, slowly lifting his head in my direction. I could tell I'd shocked him likely for the first time in my life. As he rose to his feet, I could see steam coming out of his ears. The phenomenon was a real thing. I'd expected him to yell and scream but I learned quickly that even my father could still shock me.

He backhanded me with so much force, I was jetted to the floor, the area just beneath one eye screaming from blinding pain. My father had never hit me. This was humiliating, a not-so-subtle reminder I was considered little more than a possession in this house.

He didn't come to gather me into his arms and I knew he wouldn't apologize. He stood staring down at me with his hands on his hips.

Still stunned, it took every scrap of energy to struggle to my feet, forced to grip the edge of his desk.

He cracked his neck, the sound unmistakable.

"I don't know what to say about you any longer, Raphaella, other than you're a disappointment."

"I'm a disappointment? You're now kowtowing to the Russian mob, yet you say that to me?" When he lifted his arm a second time, I was certain the next blow would knock me unconscious.

He stopped short, flexing then curling his fingers before pulling his arm away.

As he'd done before, he shoved his hands into his pockets, turning to face his beloved window.

"You refuse?" he asked again.

"One hundred percent."

His exhalation was harsh and devoid of emotion. This was just business to him. He couldn't care less about ruining my life. That made me saddest of all.

"Then I will have no other choice," he said, and it suddenly dawned on me Sophia wasn't a child any longer. He could force this blasphemous marriage made in hell on her.

I held my breath, waiting for the next shoe to drop.

"I will need all the soldiers I can get since the violence will become horrific. I'll now be forced to require Caspian to become a part of my army." He allowed the words to linger, knowing I would suddenly grow pale.

Caspian was barely sixteen, looking very much a younger version of the man himself and seemed to be the kind of kid who wanted more to do with my father's empire. I adored Sophia and would do anything to protect her, and I'd do the same with my brother; he was a baby soul with a heart of gold. He'd also had issues, something that continued to derail him every once in a while. He'd be eaten alive if he was tossed into my father's world.

When a sly smile crossed my father's face, I confronted him with an even more aggressive attitude, screaming as my body shook. "How dare you think you can treat your own children like commodities? How dare you pit one against the other? I hate you."

"Hate me all you want, Raphaella. That changes nothing. In business, as with pleasure, sacrifices must be made for the betterment of the entire family. Often, difficult choices need to be made. I am a fair man, so the choice is entirely up to you."

A single trickle of blood slipped into my mouth, the coppery sweet taste a reminder of how brutal he could be. I had no choice. None. My brother would be killed within months. The kid was a born scientist, destined to create something amazing for humanity. And Sophia was youthful in both appearance and in her attitude, yet to be given the chance at life.

I had to protect them at all costs.

"Fine, Father. I will agree to your disgusting request, but I have a caveat of my own."

"You're in no position to make demands."

"I believe I am."

He laughed, as if he was getting a kick out of all of this. "Go ahead by all means. Allow me to hear your demands."

"I have one and it will be entered into the contract. You will allow both Sophia and Caspian to live their lives the way they want without interference."

His eyes reflected anger, but he nodded. "The change will be made quickly and you will sign the contract."

He didn't need to say it.

"Or else."