Elena's POV
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I turn around to face my father, my heart still pounding against my chest. "What marriage are you talking about?" I manage through a shaky voice.
He takes a step closer.
"Don't!" I grit. "Don't come any closer."
He stops, sighs. "You're getting married, Elena," he repeats.
All the color drains from my face. "No," I spit.
My hands are folded tightly together, I fear they might break.
"You will do as I say. This is the only way to keep whatever is left of this family alive."
Alive! Alive!?
"What happened when it came to keeping Anya alive? You couldn't protect your own child, Father! So what family are you talking about?!"
The fear burning in me shifts. Anger takes its place.
"Don't make this an issue, Elena," he grits out, anger flashing across his face.
"It won't have to be, because I'm not getting married to anyone, just to keep your crumbling empire standing!"
"Elena!!" His voice echoes throughout the building, and I flinch.
"We're going to lose everything. Every frickin' thing! Do you understand that?"
"I understand it very well, Father. But I do have to say that there's absolutely nothing else left for me to lose in this world. I lost Anya. The only person who ever mattered to me. So no, this isn't for family. It's for you."
My words are cut off when strong hands clamp around my throat, cutting the air from my lungs.
"You really love to defy me, don't you!" His grip tightens.
"Let–go–of me!" I choke out.
Dad's eyes bore into mine, jaw tight, breath hot and heavy against my face.
"Fuck!" He snarls, shoving me away.
I clutch my neck, rubbing the raw skin as I try to catch my breath.
"You know?" Dad says, turning back to me. "All your protests won't do you any good. Everything is set already. I've signed the papers. It's finalized."
"I'm not marrying anyone and that's final! I don't care what papers you've signed, or what deals you've made. I won't get married!"
He's quiet for a long beat. Then all of a sudden, he starts to laughing. He laughs so loudly, the sound echoes through the walls.
The sound is deep, ugly. Almost mocking. Tears spring in his eyes from the force of it before he goes still again, face turning cold.
"You really are one stupid, naive little girl," he drawls.
I stare at him, confused.
"I know where babushka (Nana) stays, you know?"
My heart drops. No!
A wide smile forms on his face once he sees the fear in my eyes.
"Now. I'm going to make this very clear. You act like a good girl and do as I say—or, you can try to fight me, and dread the aftermath forever." His voice is a low threat. "You watched your sister die today." His voice drops lower. "I won't mind adding another to that list."
My breathing stops and my hands go cold.
"Get ready," his tone is serious. "Your fiancé is coming over for dinner tonight, and you'll both discuss the wedding together."
Tonight?!
"Yes, tonight," Dad answers as if he could hear my thoughts. "And you'll treat him well. Be nice. You'll do well not to upset him. We don't want you getting him angry and risking this whole agreement."
All the while, I watch my father with an open mouth. I can't comprehend anything that's happening right now.
He didn't even wait for my approval. He knows I can't fight him. Even if I try, I won't win.
"Am I clear?" Dad asks.
I don't answer. Not because I don't want to, but because I can't even form the words in my mouth.
His hand catches my cheeks and he presses on them. Hard.
"Have I made myself clear, Elena?" he glares at me, daring me to protest.
It takes me a few seconds before I hear my own words.
"Yes, Father."
The smile on his face is instant. Almost like he won a prize.
Me. I'm the prize.
"Good. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?" He beams down at me like he wasn't just threatening me a few seconds ago. "Alright then. I'll leave you to it, honey. Put on something nice and short, okay?"
"Something that will keep your fiancé up throughout the night."
He turns to leave, then pauses.
"Oh, and Elena," His voice lowers. "Don't try anything stupid." He warns.
"Ty prekrasno znayesh', ya ne blefuyu." (You know perfectly well, I don't bluff.)
And with that, he's gone.
I'm left standing alone, as the realization hits me. It's really over for me. There's no escaping this one.
*******
Babushka and Dad never got along. After Mama died, it only worsened. Her refusal to accept his marriage to her daughter had lit a permanent fuse.
He never let her visit. She couldn't even visit Mama when she was still alive. That's how much he despised his mother-in-law.
I made her leave. Far from him, and far from the Mafia.
I knew what Dad was capable of. The moment something or someone became a nuisance, he took "care" of it.
It was hard convincing her, but I did.
No one knew where she went. No one except me. Dad never bothered looking, too, and so I assumed he didn't care.
But I underestimated the man. Of course he knew. He always does. And like the devil he is, he's using it against me. I feel so useless and vulnerable. I can't do anything because Nana's at risk. I can't lose her, too.
And that's why I'm outside the house, side by side with my dad, waiting to welcome my fiancé.
The cool breeze blows over my skin, reminding me just how exposed I am in this short, sleeveless turtleneck dress. It's almost see-through, but I'm sure Dad likes it that way.
A black Mercedes pulls up.
My heart sinks, and panic fills me instantly.
"Act right," Dad warns through gritted teeth.
The door opens, and a man steps out.
Immediately he turns around, everything else goes quiet.
What is he doing here?
I look up at my father but he pays me no heed.
Adrian Moretti. Italian Mafia heir. Ruthless and intimidating. And most importantly, my father's rival.
How did my dad agree to this?
He walks up to us in his clad suit that hugs all parts of his body.
I had only ever seen him on paper or on TV, but nothing could ever prepare me for the real thing.
And now, my fear just tripled.
The first three buttons of his shirt are undone, revealing a hint of a tattoo across his chest.He towers above me. Bearded jaw set, hair slicked back with a strand falling loose.
And his eyes. His eyes are the brightest color of blue I've ever seen. It's like ocean water. You could get lost in them if you stare for too long.
He stops in front of me and immediately takes my hand in his.
"Hello, Elena."
His voice is deep, smooth. And the way my name rolls off his lips has goosebumps covering my whole body. He then places a soft kiss on the skin.
A cold chill runs down my spine at the contact. The night air is cool, but my skin burns where his lips touched.
Adrian releases my hand slowly, but his gaze doesn't shift from me. Instead, it trails downward. Deliberate, and unhurried, lingering far too long on the thin, see-through fabric of my dress.
Shame rises in my chest, but I hold his stare.
Something flickers in those blue eyes.
Not desire. Just calculation. As though he's assessing every inch, every weakness.
He straightens, meeting my gaze again.
"We have much to discuss," He says with that deep timbre. Then turns to my father, only acknowledging him with a slight nod.
"Mr. Moretti," Dad greets in return. "Let's get inside and down to business, shall we?" He turns around, leading us inside. I force my feet ahead of my father.
Every step I take feels like it's dragging me further away from my escape. The moment I cross the threshold, I feel him behind me.
His presence, his stare, his power pressing hard against my back. It makes the hairs at the back of my neck rise. A silent reminder that even if I run, there will be no outrunning him.
And that's when it sinks in.
There really is no way out of this. Especially not with Adrian Moretti's shadow already stretching over mine.