Sold to Mr. Giordano

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I scream at the top of my lungs. Arabella is the first to rush into my room, it’s dark, but the light from the hallway makes me able to make out her worried features.

 “What happened? What’s wrong?” She asks frantically.

“Nothing. Just, just a nightmare,” I place my hand over my erratic heart and take fast, panting breaths. “I just… I just thought about how,” tears begin to stream down my cheeks, “how Antonio killed that man.”

“Not killing the man would’ve made Antonio weak. He has to ensure his dominance and make sure everyone knows they will pay if they disrespect anything related to him and his life.”

“I’m so scared,” I hug her and bury my head into the junction where her neck and shoulder meet. “He’s going to kill me.”

“He’s not going to kill you,” Arabella strokes my hair. “Xander wouldn’t kill you… unless you betray him—then he must make an example out of you. You wouldn’t betray him though.”

“Yes, I would.”

Arabella’s body goes tense. “What do you mean?”

“I’m going to betray him on his wedding night, I can’t go through with tradition. I can’t sleep with him! I can’t do this marriage!”

“Shhh,” Arabella rocks and soothes me. “No more worrying about your wedding night. Everything will be okay.”

Arabella lulled me to sleep after minutes of comforting me and whispering nice thoughts in my ear. She must’ve left sometime after.

I wake up alone in the pristine, white guest bedroom. The room feels empty to me, no personality, it makes it feel less like home. Back in New York I put up pictures, magazine clippings, twinkle lights, my comforter had patches of different design, I made that room a part of me. Even my room in the Chicago penthouse I have my own little touch. This room is unfamiliar, a mean to stay in until I move into the master bedroom and endure whatever horrors my future husband plans to do with me.

At the top of the stairs I listen to Arabella cry from down below. Heart-wrenching sobs escape her lips and makes me think the worst possible scenario. Maybe her mother died, maybe she’s sick and dying. All I know is a cry like that is from pain and despair, I know it all too well. My heart breaks slightly and I hope to God there is a way to fix whatever is happening.

 I peek my head around the corner and see Antonio and Rocco sitting with her. Her hand is over her face and Rocco is rubbing her arm while Antonio is pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t want to!” Her voice is hoarse from all the crying.

“Don’t be a brat,” Antonio says in his deep baritone voice. He sounds even more annoyed than usual. He is doing nothing to comfort his own cousin, unlike Rocco.

“He’s a monster!” She screams in his face shocking me with her fierceness.

“We all have a duty. Aren’t you the one who spent much of your time trying to convince Arielle that I’m not a monster?”

“You aren’t!” Her face is wet with tears.

“I am. I’m more of a monster than Luca Ricci. He is the next Capo, you’re lucky you aren’t going to die a single widow with no children. Luca will give you the best possible life in New York.”

Luca? She’s marrying Luca? She can’t be, Arabella is too nice for someone as evil as my brother. He doesn’t deserve someone like Arabella.

“But I don’t want to live in New York! I want to stay here in Chicago with you, and Rocco, and Arielle!”

“The wedding isn’t until a year…” Rocco attempts to console her.

I take a step down one of the stairs and make a creaking noise, all their attention is startled towards me. “Arabella is marrying my brother?” I interrupt.

“Yes, now will you tell her it isn’t so horrible,” Rocco motions for me to take his place on the couch next to her.

 Arabella’s face is flushed and her eyes bloodshot from all the crying, I can even make out a little bit of snot running from her nose.

When talking to me about an arranged marriage, she was so cool and collect constantly tell me it won’t be as bad as I think.

“I wish I could tell her the same lies she told me. It won’t be a happy marriage. Luca is incapable of feeling anything, he’s ruthless and vicious and will treat her terribly! You can’t let them go through with this! Arabella deserves better!”

“Deserves better than the next Capo?” Rocco snorts and rolls his eyes at me.

“We can and we will, I am not starting war between New York and the Outfit just because Arabella shouldn’t be marrying a vicious man. Arabella’s pick is all Made Men, we are all vicious and ruthless. She dealt with her first husband, and she will deal with her second husband just the same.” Antonio stands and looks down at his cousin. “Clean yourself up, I can’t stand seeing you crying. You’re marrying a soon to be powerful Capo of the mafia. You should be grateful. You both should fucking be grateful!” He sends daggers my way and my heart skips a beat. His temper causes him to leave the room. Which is good because another minute with me and his crying cousin and I was afraid he’d pull out his knife and end both our misery.

“He’s right, I’m just being overly emotional. My life with a future Capo will be one with honor. I have his protection and with him I will have children,” she hiccups on choked sobs trying to break through. I can tell she doesn’t mean it. She doesn’t want to marry Luca just as much as I don’t want to marry Antonio.

“I’m sorry,” I hug her long enough that the Moretti brothers exit.

“It’ll be…” Arabella tries to find the words, “at least he’s not fat and ugly,” she forces out a chuckle.

I laugh with her for her benefit. “At least there’s that.” I stand up from the couch and hold out my hand for her to take. “Let’s go watch a sad movie and cry over some ice cream.”

“That sounds perfect actually,” she sniffles and takes my hand squeezing it in thanks.

In the entertainment room was a large white couch, fluffy and full of pillows. I grabbed us two blankets from a basket in the corner of the room and we wrapped up in it. We each grabbed our own little container of Häagen-Dazs and grabbed the remote to the ninety-something inch plasma screen television. Arabella put on Netflix and clicked on the account labeled “Antonio” on his account in the recommended section were a bunch of cliché romance movies. I raise my eyebrow and she giggles.

“He doesn’t use Netflix. I begged him to get one so I could watch whenever I come over.”

We decided on watching an Anne Hathaway movie called “One Day.” We sobbed into each other’s arms and I never realized how much I needed this. My best friend Gia and I never had a friendship like this. We were only allowed to socialize during parties—Father didn’t want anyone to know the location of our mansion so she was never allowed over. I cry over the movie, and I also cry over my new friendship and how I’ll lose her in a year to my cruel brother, and New York. I cry knowing I am soon to be a terrible man’s property. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if every day were like this, him gone at work and me able to watch movies and cry into my ice cream with Arabella—at least I’ll be able to be with her for a year.

Who knows how I’ll feel about the arranged marriage in a year?

Who am I kidding? I’ll probably be just as miserable if not more.