Chapter 5—The Caged Rose

LENA

THE DEALER was sitting in front of me. Why? “Where am I?” I asked, shifting away from him. A clanking sound caught my attention.

Chain cuff.

I was cuffed again.

Why?

“What do you want from me?” I said. But he only gave me a knowing smile, as if asking me to get more riled up.

But, honestly, without him even asking, I surely would. I was in an unknown place with an unknown man; how am I meant to stay calm in this situation?

Kidnapped?

I have been kidnapped.

No. I remember what happened yesterday. Gambling, my father traded me; he lost me—more like gave me away—then he—the dealer—gave me a gun, telling me if I wished I could kill him and have my revenge.

Yes, I hit my father with the gun when I was about to pull the trigger. I was… What happened after?

Swiftly crawling to him, I yanked his collar up, pulling him closer to my face.

“What happened after? Did I kill my father? Is he dead?”

He tilted his head before answering. “Would that make you happy? If he were dead, I mean.”

I paused, staring at him for a hot minute, and without filtering, I answered.

“Fuck yes. At least, I know I wasn’t just sold for nothing.”

“Well, too bad. Amore mio, your father, or father-in-law, is hale and hearty. Disappointed? I am too.”

I dropped his collar and fell back on my ankle. Father wasn’t dead, but I was successfully traded?

Tears.

I felt like crying. I wanted to cry, scream, and throw anything and everything.

“Why? What did I do to deserve this?”

“It’s most likely because you are his daughter.”

“Not funny,” I snapped at him. I was in no mood for his jests. I squeezed my hands into a fist. Merely looking at my cuffed wrist, I knew definitely I was not going anywhere.

“What do you want to do with me?”

“Not from you this time?”

I frowned deeply. “Do I look like I can afford any amount you call for?”

“Of course you can’t. And do I look like I need some loose change from you? Since that’s what you could possibly offer me.”

That hurt.

Yes, I’m not rich, like him, but that doesn’t mean he can throw it at me as an insult.

“Yes. My money is loose change for you.” I answered, rolling my eyes at him.

“Good, I’m glad we both agree on something.”

I bit my tongue to keep from cursing him out, holding off the string of curses that was ready to fall loose from my lips.

He smiled and stood up from the chair. I watched him walk over to the table and take out an envelope.

“This is for you; sign here. We can have the event some time later.”

“Sign?” I muttered, taking the paper from him.

The more I read through, the angrier and more disgusted I became. But at the end of the paper, where the witness was written, it had my father’s signature in it.

“Marriage?”

“Yes, we are legally married in the eyes of the law. And your dear father, Viktor Carter, is a legal witness to our ‘marriage.’ Any questions?”

“A ton! Why? Who gets married without their permission?”

“Why are you shocked? Surely you have heard of arranged marriage or marriage of benefit and advantage?”

“I am not getting marriage to anyone, much you, Mr.—”

I looked down at the paper, and my eyes flew open.

“You—you are Don Dante Romano?!”

“In the flesh.”

I knew him. I definitely knew him. Hell, any Italian person who has the barest connection with the underground world would know him. Youngest Don in history. This man became a don at age fourteen.

At age fourteen I was having sleepovers, painting my nails, beheading my Barbie dolls, and doing weird makeups with my mother, while he was going around, shooting, killing, and selling hard drugs and bizarre things.

Marriage with him was like selling myself to the devil.

Dante Romano, the don of La corona silenziosa—the silent crown. There were rumors he had killed his entire family just to get the Don position.

Personally, it didn’t make sense for a fourteen-year-old kid to kill his entire family for a position. But rumors are rumors, which have slight truths in them at the very least.

Two truths, one lie.

I looked at him and at the paper.

“I am never getting married to you.”

“You say it like you have a choice or something?”

I bit my lip as rage filled my chest. Slamming the paper on the bed, I glared at him.

“This isn’t fair. The agreement is with my father, so why? Why do I have to be punished?”

I watched him place his hands over his chest and feign a pained expression.

“You wound me, amore mio. You say it like being with me is some sort of vile crime that you should be convicted for.”

“Isn’t it?” I spat, hoping to wound his pride. But he just smiled.

“No, not really.”

Do words not faze him?

“I will not marry you, and you will not make me marry you.”

“Amore mio, you are currently in my estate. And with your father already agreeing to this, I doubt there would be a missing person report.” He shrugged, leaning back in the chair.

He was right.

I was chained here like a ragged dog, but that didn’t mean I was going to bark just because he said so.

“Now, sign. Or should I give you time to think about it?”

I shot him a glare. Maintaining his eyes, I ripped the paper in pieces.

Dante just stared at me like I had grown a second head.

No emotion. I didn’t know if he was mad or not.

Slowly, he stood up and leaned closer to me. I unconsciously moved back.

“Like I said, your father is alive. I have the statement as a soft copy, and the world will never run out of printing paper and ink.”

Dread filled my lungs, and it became difficult to breathe.

“But you know what will run out? My patience.”

He pulled my hair, forcing my face up.

“Don’t wear it thin.” He released me and walked towards the door.

“You’re mentally insane if you think for a moment that I will ever be yours.”

He simply tilted his head and smirked. “We will see about that, won’t we?”

With that, he shut the door, and seconds later, I heard clicking sounds from the door.

Locked.

I was locked and cuffed.

Great.

I couldn’t believe my life; I went from living with an abusive father to having a brute for a husband.

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“You think I’m dangerous? Wait until you see what I do for love.” ~Il Don Dante.