I want to run away, to skip the prison he's bringing me to, while at the very same time I'm curious and hopeful. I knew there would never be autonomy when it came to my future, and a part of me wonders if he's really that bad?
He's so arrogant it makes my blood boil. What could I possibly see in a man like him? I can’t love him, and I never will. He can’t love me. We’ll be together as husband and wife, but like most marriages in the mob, it’s only a farce. I’m assuming a role in name only, and I’ve known this would be my lot in life for a very, very long time.
But when you've been raised the way I have… When you've seen what I have… You start to understand that often things aren't what they seem.
Not all bad men areallbad. Not all good men areallgood. Humans are a wild, unpredictable concoction of complexities. And something tells me that Salvatore is no exception.
My mama always said one day my optimism would make a fool of me, and here we are.
I observe my surroundings. I watch in particular how everybody else addresses him. I'm not quite sure yet what his role is, if he's the Don, the one in charge, or maybe an heir to the throne. There’s no way he’s just a captain. No… Romeo wouldn't have given in to his demands unless he was a man of exceptional power and rank.
Don, then, I would guess. He’s at least someone powerful.
So I observe. I take note.
Among the dozen or so men here on the plane with us, I sense fear. When you’ve grown up the way I did, you develop a sixth sense. You learn to recognize fear. There’s a certain scent in the air, a vibrating silence of collective breaths held at once.
There’s one that stands apart from the others who doesn’t seem to fear Salvatore, though. But I don’t gather confidence from the guy, only ineptitude and ignorance. I feel as if I stumbled into a boot camp with a new client, where everybody knows the steps to the dance except one.
The blond guy in the white suit doesn't hide from Salvatore. He's clearly amused by Salvatore’s treatment of me, which makes him no friend of mine. But while the other men are intent on following Salvatore’s orders, this one seems intent on…. well,me.
Intriguing.
Did Romeo send him? No… I don’t recognize him. And that’s not Romeo’s style.
"Pretty little Italian princess probably hasn't been treated by a real man before," he says in a low voice in my ear. I wonder if he's trying not to be overheard by my future husband, or by the other man beside him, or if he just wants to make an idle threat or bully me.
Bold move.
I don't respond to him at first. I'm a little bemused. There's not a single man who works for my brother who would ever try to be disrespectful to me without suffering great consequences. Part of me wonders how different Salvatore's family is from mine.
It also doesn’t mean I have to put up with it, I’m just not sure what the rules here are yet. At first, I ignore him. But he keeps it up. He's standing too close to me, he's whispering things in my ear about what a spoiled brat I am.
I glance over at Salvatore, who’s intent on the phone, having a deep conversation. His eyebrows are a slash above his eyes as he spits Italian curses into the phone. Excellent.
"Miss Rossi, please sit beside Mr. Capo," a gentleman to my left says.
Not Miss Rossi for much longer.
I nod and go to sit. Before I do, the guy next to me starts in again. I don't know if things are just different here or he really just has a death wish.
"Your brothers think they’re the hottest things on the coast, don't they?” Ah. So this is about my brothers. Excellent.
I look to see if my almost-husband is noticing, more out of curiosity than anything, but nothing yet. I can feel the tension of the other men near me. I see the way they look. I decide I don't have anything to say to him, even as he's getting under my skin.
I miss my brothers already. Will my new husband treat me badly?
Salvatore is still busy on the phone, his back to me and the man next to me who continues to taunt me. "Go ahead," he sneers. "Have a seat. Let's see how you like things in Tampa. It's hot as hell, which you should be familiar with.”
Still, I ignore him. I sit beside Salvatore and buckle my seat belt.
"Little Rossi bitch," blondie says under his breath.
Is this a test? Did Salvatore put him up to this?
I don’t expect him to actually touch me, so when he reaches for me, I don’t block him or move to stop him as his fingers wrap around my arm. It only lasts a fraction of a second.
The second he touches me he's yanked back. Salvatore has him by the back of the neck, suspended several feet off the floor. I turn away and buckle my seat belt. Nothing to see here folks. I turn back with a casual glance as Salvatore shakes the blond.