Chapter Three: The Price of Sacrifice

Fiona

I knew things were bad when my father who didn’t believe in locked doors inside his own house, yet for the past three weeks, his study door had remained locked whenever he was inside.

Men came at strange hours and conversations stopped when I entered rooms, my mother had developed the habit of checking her phone during dinner even though she had spent my entire childhood telling us phones had no place at the table.

And yesterday, two armed men had followed me into a bookstore, one even stood beside the romance section looking like he wanted to shoot every shirtless man on the covers.

“He’s late.” My mother looked toward the dining-room doors for what had to be the fifteenth time, I cut another piece of chicken.

“He’s always late.”

“Not for dinner.” That was true, my father treated family dinner like a sacred ritual. men could kill each other before six and continue after eight, between those hours, Vito Romano preferred everyone seated at his table.

My sister Viviana hadn’t come tonight, she had sent Mother a message claiming she had a headache, Viviana hadn’t had a headache since birth.

What she had was an incredible instinct for knowing when our father was about to ruin someone’s evening and unfortunately, I hadn’t inherited it.

Mother checked her phone again. “Mamma.”

She looked at me. “You’re making me nervous.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“You’ve checked your phone twenty-seven times.”

Her brows lifted. “You counted?”

“No. I’m exaggerating to make a point.”

She put the phone facedown. “There.”

“Thank you.”

Five seconds passed, she reached for it again and I slapped my hand over it.

“Fiona.”

“Eat.”

“I’m your mother.”

“And I’m saving you from yourself.”

For half a second, she looked normal again, then tires rolled over the gravel outside.

Mother’s smile disappeared and I heard the front doors open, my father entered the dining room less than a minute later.

I knew immediately that whatever meeting he’d gone to hadn’t ended the way he’d wanted, his tie was loosened and his shoulders were stiff.

Mother stood so quickly her chair scraped against the floor. “Vito.”

She hurried toward him and wrapped her arms around him.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t tell me nothing.”

He kissed her forehead. “Martha.”

“Did he agree?” I stopped chewing and father’s eyes moved toward me.

“Did Luca help?”

The name meant something, I just didn’t immediately know what, father removed his jacket and handed it to a waiting servant. “Everyone out.”

The servants didn’t hesitate and within seconds, the dining room emptied and I put my fork down, well there went dinner.

Mother’s face had gone pale. “Vito?”

“He agreed.”

She exhaled and I looked between them.

“Who agreed to what?” Neither answered and I frowned.

“Apparently I’m the only person at this table who doesn’t know we’re celebrating something.”

“We aren’t celebrating,” Father said.

That shut me up, he took his usual seat at the head of the table, mother sat beside him and I remained across from her. Father reached for his wine, his hand stopped before touching the glass.

“Fiona.”

Oh, no, there were several ways my father said my name. Fiona when I was annoying him, Fiona Romano when I’d done something particularly stupid, My girl when he wanted something.

But this? He sounded quiet and guilty, I didn’t like this one at all.

“What?”

“We need to discuss something.”

“That sentence has never been followed by anything enjoyable.”

Mother looked down and my stomach tightened as I glanced between them. “What’s happened?”

Father leaned back. “You know we’ve been having problems.”

I did, everyone did, maybe not every detail, but I wasn’t stupid. Two of Father’s soldiers had been buried within eight days of each other, I’d attended one funeral, the dead man’s wife had stood beside the coffin holding the hands of two children who were too young to understand why everyone kept hugging them.

I’d watched my father stare at those children for a long time.

“Yes,” I said.

“The situation is worse than I’ve allowed you to know.”

“How much worse?”

“The smaller families are beginning to move against us.”

“Why?”

“Because they think we’re vulnerable.”

“Are we?”

His mouth tightened and that was answer enough.

I sat straighter. “What’s being done?”

“I met with Luca Ricci tonight.”

And there it was again. Luca Ricci. This time the name clicked, everyone knew the Riccis, you didn’t have to belong to our world to know them.

Ricci hotels, Ricci developments, Ricci restaurants, Ricci construction, half the respectable buildings in the city seemed to have some connection to their money, and beneath all that polished respectability was everything people weren’t stupid enough to print in newspapers.

“Why?”

“I asked for an alliance.”

My eyebrows rose. “With the Riccis?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He agreed.”

I waited.

Father didn’t continue and something cold crawled slowly down my spine.

“Then why does everyone look like someone died?”

Mother closed her eyes and father stared at me.

“He had a condition.” I laughed once, of course he did.

“Money?”

“No.”

“Territory?”

“No.”

“A port?”

“No.”

My amusement faded.

“What, then?”

Father’s silence answered before his mouth did, I looked at Mother, she wouldn’t meet my eyes. No, absolutely not.

“What did he ask for?”

“Fiona—”

“What did he ask for?”

Father’s jaw flexed. “You.”

For a moment, I genuinely didn’t understand. “Me?”

“He wants to marry you.”

There was silence and then I laughed, it came out before I could stop it but neither of my parents joined me.

My laughter died. “You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

I stood, the chair legs scraped violently against the floor.

“No.”

Mother reached toward me. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t.”

She froze and I looked at Father. “You went to another man and discussed giving him your daughter?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“What exactly was it like?”

“Sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down.”

“Fiona.”

“No.” My voice rose. “You just told me I’m supposed to marry a man I’ve never even met. I think I’ve earned the right to stand.”

Father’s expression hardened, for once, I didn’t care. “When?”

“When what?”

“When were you planning to ask me?”

“We’re asking you now.”

I stared at him. “You already agreed, didn’t you?”

My chest tightened. “You agreed.”

“I agreed to an alliance.”

“By giving him me!”

“Lower your voice.”

“Why? Will the neighbors hear that Vito Romano traded his daughter for soldiers?”

His palm hit the table. “Enough.”

I flinched, I hated that I did father saw it and his expression softened immediately but mine didn’t.

“I had plans.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t.” I could feel something burning behind my eyes, and that only made me angrier but I refused to cry.

“I wanted to travel.”

“You still can.”

“I wanted to choose where I lived.”

“You can discuss that with Luca.”

I laughed bitterly. “How generous.”

“Fiona.”

“I wanted to fall in love.” That one silenced the room, mother looked at me, father looked away first and somehow that hurt more than if he’d shouted.

“I wanted to meet someone because I wanted him,” I continued, quieter now. “I wanted someone to ask me to marry him because he loved me, not because my father needed his guns.”

Mother whispered my name and I shook my head.

“What future do I have now?”

“You have a future,” Father said.

“Whose?”

His brows pulled together. “Mine?” I pressed my hand against my chest. “Or yours?”

He stood. “Everything I have done has been for this family.”

“Then why does being part of this family always seem to mean someone else gets to decide what happens to me?”

When he finally turned, the anger was gone. “Do you remember Enzo Marchetti?”

My mouth went dry, of course I did, he had worked for Father since I was twelve, he was dead now.

“Yes.”

“His wife buried him six days ago.”

“I know.”

“He died protecting one of our warehouses.”

I looked away. “Don’t.”

“Two other men were injured.”

“Papa—”

“Yesterday, the Carusos withdrew from an agreement they’ve honored for eleven years. This morning, another shipment disappeared. Tonight, one of our captains informed me that men are asking questions about our security.”

He came closer. “This isn’t business anymore.”

“If the Riccis stand beside us, this stops?” I asked.

“It becomes much harder for anyone to continue.”

“And if they don’t?”

Father looked at me for several seconds. “Men will die.”

I swallowed.

He continued. “Not might.” His voice was quiet. “Will.”

I hated him for saying it because he knew exactly what those words would do to me.

“If this becomes war, I’ll lose soldiers. They’ll lose soldiers. Then someone retaliates against someone’s brother. Someone bombs the wrong car. Someone shoots into the wrong house.”

Mother looked down and father’s voice hardened.

“People who had nothing to do with how this began will die because that’s what always happens.”

I crossed my arms tightly. “That isn’t my fault.”

“No.”

“Then don’t make it sound like it is.”

“I’m not.”

“You just told me people will die if I don’t marry him.”

“I told you what will happen if we stand alone.”

“That’s the same fucking thing.”

“Fiona.” Mother’s warning came quietly but I didn’t care.

Father rubbed a hand over his face, for the first time, he looked exhausted.

“You asked me for the truth.”

“I asked why you’re selling my future.”

“Because I’m trying to make sure you have one.”

I stared at him.

He came closer. “If our enemies realize we’re vulnerable, do you know what happens next?”

I didn’t answer. “They don’t come only for me.”

Something in his tone made my skin prickle. “They come for everything I love.”

Mother.

Viviana.

Me.

Father didn’t have to say the names.

“If one of them takes you before I can stop them,” he continued, “you think they’ll offer marriage?”

My stomach turned. “Stop.”

“You think they’ll care what you want?”

“Papa.”

“You think Luca Ricci is the worst man who could get his hands on you?”

“Vito,” Mother said sharply.

He ignored her. “There are men out there who would take you simply because making my daughter scream would hurt me more than putting a bullet in my chest.”

My face went cold and Mother stood. “Enough.”

Father stopped. I stared at him and he looked instantly regretful but he didn’t take it back because it was true.

I knew our world, I knew what my surname meant and I knew what people did to daughters when they wanted to punish fathers.

“Is he really that powerful?” I asked.

Father didn’t need me to explain who.

“Yes.”

“Powerful enough that this ends?”

“No one is powerful enough to guarantee that.”

At least he didn’t lie. “But powerful enough that most of them will think twice.”

I looked at Mother who was at the verge of crying. “Do you want me to do this?”

She stood and came toward me. “No mother wants this for her daughter.”

“Then tell him no.”

Her fingers tightened around mine. “I wish it were that simple.”

Of course.

“If I say no?”

His face became unreadable. “You can, but I need you to understand what you’re saying no to.”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

Father’s face tightened. “I told you—”

“Don’t.”

I shook my head. “Please don’t insult me by pretending.”

He went quiet.

I took a breath even though my lungs felt too small.

“Fine.”

Mother stared at me. “I’ll marry him.”

“Fiona—”

“I said I’ll do it.”

The words tasted wrong. “I’ll marry Luca Ricci.”