Chapter 5

Damon  remarked calmly, as if a war between New York and Chicago wasn't about to start, "I didn't intend disrespect. But Freya is no longer under your care. The moment you declared her my fiancée, you forfeited your right to punish her. She is now under my control."

Father bowed his head and cast a quick glimpse at the ring on my finger. The other guys in the room began to relax a little as Damon  released his grip on his wrist, but they didn't put their guns away. "That's accurate." He took a step back and pointed at me. "If so, would you enjoy the privilege of making her see sense?"

I stopped breathing as Damon 's stern glare landed on me. "She didn't defy me," Damon said.

Father's lips became drier. "You're correct. However, in my opinion, Freya will be residing in my home until the wedding, so I'll have to find another means to get her to follow me because honor precludes me from raising my voice in her face. He struck Gianna again while scowling at her. "Freya, your sister will take the punishment in place of you for every wrongdoing."

Tears pricked at my eyes as I pursed my lips.

Until I could find a method to shield my animosity from Father and Damon , I refrained from looking at them. 

"Umberto, make sure Gianna and Freya remain in their rooms. Take them there." Umberto put his knife away and motioned for us to follow him. I moved passed my father while pulling Gianna, who had her head lowered, after me. She tensed up when we walked on the bloody hardwood floor with the severed finger lying in it. Raffaele caught my attention as he clutched his wound to stop the bleeding. The man's hands, shirt, and trousers were all stained with blood. Gianna sputtered, seeming to vomit once again. 

"No," I firmly said. "Look at me." 

She took her eyes from the blood and turned to look at me. She had tears in her eyes, and a gash on her bottom lip was leaking blood across her chin and nightgown.

My grip on her became tighter. "I'm here for you.' As Umberto escorted us out of the room, our eyes locking appeared to be her sole point of stability. 

"Women," my father scoffed. "They find even the slightest amount of blood intolerable." Before the door shut, I could almost feel Damon 's gaze focusing on my back. As we sped up the stairs and along the hallway behind Umberto, Gianna wiped the blood from her lip. "I detest him, she said. I despise them all."

"Shh." She shouldn't have spoken like way in front of Umberto, in my opinion. He loved us, but he was first and foremost my father's soldier. 

I tried to follow Gianna into her room, but he stopped me. I didn't want her to spend the evening alone. I also didn't want to be alone myself. "You heard what your father said." He replied. I shut the door with a thud. Guarded. Even from a distance, Damon  would be in charge of my life. I had assumed that until the wedding, my life would continue as before, but how could it when everyone knew what the ring on my finger meant?

The pinky of Raffaele was a signal and a warning. Damon  had staked a claim on me and would ruthlessly uphold it. 

That night, I didn't turn out the lights because I was afraid the darkness would bring back memories of blood and severed limbs. But they showed up. 

As it from my mouth, my breath became hazy. The harsh Chicago cold was too much for even my heavy coat to handle. As I walked with my mother past the stone building that housed the most opulent wedding shop in the Midwest, snow crunched under my boots. Umberto, who served as my permanent shadow, followed closely. Following my sisters was another of my father's warriors. 

We entered the store's brilliantly illuminated interior via rotating brass doors, where we were welcomed by the owner and her two helpers straight away. She wished me a happy birthday in her dulcet tones. 

I attempted to grin. It was intended for my eighteenth birthday to be a happy occasion. Instead, it only meant I was one step closer to being married to Damon . Since the night he severed Raffaele's finger, I hadn't seen him. For my birthdays, Christmas, Valentine's Day, and the anniversary of our engagement, he gave me expensive jewelry, but that was the extent of our communication during the last three years. I had seen pictures of him online with other women, but even that would come to an end today when news of our engagement leaked to the media. He would at least stop showing off his hookers in public. I never fooled myself into believing he wasn't still having affairs with them. I couldn't care less. I'd like to believe that he wouldn't think of me in that manner as long as he had other women to screw. 

"If I understand properly, it's just six months till your wedding," the store owner chimed in. She was the only one who seemed to be happy. It should come as no surprise that she would be quite wealthy now. The ultimate marriage between the Chicago and New York mafias was expected to be a grand occasion. Money wasn't important. 

I made a head inclination. There were 166 days left until I had to swap one gilded cage for another. Gianna didn't say anything, but she gave me a look that made it plain what she thought of the situation. At the age of sixteen and a half, Gianna had mostly mastered the ability to control her temper. 

We were escorted into the changing area by the store owner. Umberto and the other guy remained in front of the closed drapes. Mother sat down on the comfortable white sofa with Lily and Gianna and started looking through the exhibit of bridal dresses. In the center of the room, I was standing. My throat tightened at the sight of all the white tulle, silk, gossamer, and brocade and what it symbolized. I would soon be a married lady. The walls of the changing room were covered with love quotes, which seemed insulting given the stark reality of my situation. What was love if not a foolish dream?

I felt the store owner's and her assistants gaze on me , I straightened my shoulders and went to stand beside my mother. Nobody was able to see that I wasn't the joyful bride-to-be, but rather a pawn in a power struggle.

The store owner eventually came over to us and displayed some of her most costly clothes. 

She smiled and said, "What kind of gown would your future husband prefer?"

Gianna replied, "The naked kind," to which my mother gave her a frown. The store owner chuckled as though it were all too amusing as I reddened. 

"Don't you think there will be time for that on the wedding night?" She chuckled. 

In the collection, the most costly dress was a fantasy of brocade with a bustier that was delicately embroidered with pearls and silvery threads in the shape of flowers. "Those are platinum threads," the store owner stated. That clarified the cost. "I believe your choice will please your groom," she said.

So she was more familiar with him than I was. Today, Damon  was just as foreign to me as he had been almost three years before.

***

The large grounds of the Vitiello home in the Hamptons would serve as the venue for the wedding. The preparations were already a hive of activity. Even though I hadn't entered the home or even the property yet, my mother kept me informed despite the fact that I hadn't specifically requested for it. 

My sisters and I had crowded in our room at the Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Manhattan the minute my family had landed in New York a few hours earlier.

Until the wedding in five days, Salvatore Vitiello had recommended we dwell in one of the mansion's numerous rooms, but my father had rejected. Even after three years of hesitant collaboration, they didn't trust one another. I was happy. I didn't want to enter the mansion until I really had to.

Father and mother each had a suite, thanks to his agreement to allow me share a suite with Lily and Gianna.

Naturally, there was a bodyguard in front of each of the three doors leading to our room. 

"Do we really need to show up for the wedding shower tomorrow?" Lily questioned as her naked legs dangled over the sofa's backrest. Mother always said that when Nabokov wrote Lolita, he must have had Liliana in mind. Lily used her body to provoke, whilst Gianna used her words to do so. She was a youngster who utilized her hesitant curves to get a reaction out of everyone around us. She turned fourteen in April.

She resembled the young model Thylane Blondeau, but without the gap between her front teeth and with lighter hair. 

It gave me pause. While Father's warriors found her flirtation amusing, there were some who would love to misinterpret it. I knew it was her way of defying the golden prison that was our existence.

Gianna mumbled, "Of course we have to. "Remember, Freya is the joyful bride?"

Lily coughed. "Sure." She suddenly sat up. "I'm drowsy.

We should go shopping.

Even with another of my father's bodyguards at his side, Umberto wasn't thrilled about the idea and said it would be almost difficult to manage us.

He eventually gave in, just as he usually did. 

*** When I received a message from Damon , we were at a boutique that offered seductive rockerchick-inspired clothes that Lily was dying to try on. He had never personally contacted me before, so for a while I was unable to do anything except gaze at my laptop. Gianna saw me from behind in the changing room. At six o'clock, meet me at your hotel. Damon .' How kind of him to inquire.

The question "What does he want?" I muttered. I had anticipated I wouldn't have to see him until our wedding day, August 10th. 

Gianna looked in the mirror and remarked, "There's only one way to find out."

***