“You can’t do that! You can’t frame them, again, you already destroyed his life once.”
“There are other, more permanent ways to take care of someone…”
“Very well, Xander,” my mom’s voice suddenly fills my head, and I hold on to that memory, knowing in an instant that it’s an important one. “Thank you again for helping us with the Bishop situation.”
“No problem at all, framing people is my second favorite work,” the man named Xander said.
“Oh, what’s your favorite?” My dad chimed in and I could already tell the answer isn’t one I want to hear.
“Killing people…” My heart stops in my chest, leaving an ache behind, that I’ve never felt before. My skull is vibrating with pain from the force of the memory, but I don’t care. All I can think of is how my father is threatening to kill one of the men I love.
The memory slips away, but I know there is more to it. I search my brain, willing myself to find that hidden compartment where the information I need is stored.
Xander… who is Xander?
Xander Rossi… it finally clicks in my head. Xander Rossi, the head of the local mob.
My parents are working with the mob. The realization leaves me stunned. This isn’t someone that I can just remove from the situation. This is the mob, and with them in my father’s pocket, it’s either do as I’m told or face the consequences.
“Harlow, dear, we are not the bad guys here,” my mom explains. “We are trying to do what’s best for you. You have to trust us on this. Matt is going to be the perfect husband for you. He’ll take care of you and make you happy.”
“You don’t want what’s best for me, you want what’s best for you, let’s at least admit it.” I get up, unable to sit here with them another second. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I want, you win. I’ll marry Matt.”
Ignoring the sadness and defeat in my voice, my mom smiles.
“Perfect, I’ll start planning right now. You’ve made the right choice, sweetie.”
“And I’ll call Matt to deliver the good news,” my father speaks smugly, as I turn away from them and head toward my bedroom. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I hold back my tears until I close the door behind me, locking me inside the room with nothing but my thoughts. I’m going to marry Matt, a man I don’t love, so the people I do love can stay safe.
All night I find it impossible to sleep, the tears flowing freely down my face. It’s hours before I’m so exhausted that I finally fall asleep, and don’t even wake up later that morning when someone enters my room and sits down on my bed. Only when they touch my shoulder, shaking me gently, do I peel my eyes open.
“Hey, you,” Matt’s face greets me, his voice is low, sugary sweet, and I think I might be dreaming. I blink, and then I blink again. Then like a stack of books falling over, everything comes crashing down on me. Sitting upright fast enough to give myself a head rush, I clutch the heavy blanket to my chest and scoot back against the headboard.
“What the hell are you doing here? Who let you in?” My voice rises with each question, still brimming with sleep.
He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth, “Your parents let me in, of course, and I’m here to see how my future wife is doing?”
My heart sinks into my stomach, and I feel a little like puking. All I want to do is pull the blanket over my head and go back to sleep… a long, long sleep where I wake up and all of this is nothing more than a dream.
“You look thrilled to see me,” Matt points out, his face crumbling like a broken piece of rock. “I’m guessing it wasn’t your idea to get married, after all.”
“It doesn’t matter, I agreed to get married, so we’re doing it.”
“Sounds like the start of an epic love story.” The words come out more like a joke, but they hit their mark. As if I hadn’t cried enough already, one single tear slips from my eye, rolling down my cheek, and splattering on the white sheet I’m clutching to my chest.
“Harlow, shit, sorry. Why are you crying?” Matt reaches for me, but I shake my head, halting his movements.
“It’s nothing,” I murmur, wondering if I can trust Matt. Maybe I could tell him? No. I can’t. I quickly decide against it. His family and mine are business partners. He has to know what kind of people my father works with, the things he’s done. I look down at the blanket, fiddling with the fabric nervously.
“I already told you once, but I’m going to tell you again… we can make this work. We can have a great life, and I’ll protect you, even from your family, if that’s what you need.”