“No, but you are my daughter and you will show me some respect, by God. I let you have your freedom for five years. You should be grateful.” He rolls his eyes. “Running away aged sixteen. You honestly thought a man of my position would have no idea where you went?” He rummages out a file from the detritus in front of him. It’s wedged full of papers and photos. “Stayed in Chicago. Word of advice, next time, run further.”
He tosses the file my way. “I had you watched the entire fucking time. Lucky for you that I found out about your boyfriend before he fucked you. I warned him not to try it but he had to keep thinking with his dick, like all men.”
“You had no right to send him away.”
“I did you a favor.”
“You had no right.”
“I had every fucking right. You met him working at that shitty bar. A customer with a penchant for naive Italian girls like you. Thought you were an easy mark. Let me guess, he borrowed a lotof money from you? Never paid it back?”
“No.”
“Liar. Take off the scarf.”
“No.”
“Pietro told me about the bruises already. If I see Terry again, I’ll kill him. You’re Jonah, that’s who you are. Anyone gets close to you, they die. Look at your mother.”
“Stop talking about my mother.”
He snorts. I’m not sure if it’s disgust or his version of laughing. “You still think you could survive out there on your own? Without your family behind you? Terry would have killed you sooner or later. You’ve no idea what men like him can do. You need to come back into the fold. Let me take care of you, like a father should.”
I glance down at the file, flicking through the pages. Photos of me on the streets until I found the bar job that gave me an advance on my pay. Let me work as many hours as I could get. My rental agreement. My bank statements. Pictures of me reading at the library, painting in the park each summer, even my driving lessons. So many photos of me. I push them away in disgust.
Father allows himself a thin smile. “You see, you never really left. You just thought you did. It was all an illusion. You want to know why I let you think you were free?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You were of no use to me then. I let you have your childish tantrum when Alexsei killed your mother, get it all out of yoursystem. Blame me for a while for pushing her into his arms, and then calm yourself down. Grow up. Come back and do what you’re supposed to do.”
“And what’s that?”
“Get married.”
“Nice.”
“You are a possession, Mila. You exist to serve my needs as the Don. Same as your mother existed to serve the needs of her father. That is the lot of women in this world. You serve men more important than you could ever be. You serve your family.”
“I left this family long ago.”
“You want to see the file again? You really think you left?”
“Look, I’m not getting married to whichever mafia family you need to cement some deal with. Not happening.”
He gets to his feet, crossing to the window and brushing dust from the petal of a rose poking out of an iridescent vase. “A gentleman has agreed to purchase you from me for a substantial sum. He will marry you and you will say yes when the moment comes. Marriage is sacred. You will do your duty, you will not embarrass your family by refusing.”
“A gentleman has agreed to purchase me? I thought I wasn’t a slave.”
“You are a mafia princess and your lot in life is to marry who your father chooses.”
“And you’re choosing whoever offered the most, right?”
“Correct.”
“So you’re still a gambler.”
His eyebrows go up. “Excuse me?”