Chapter Three
Isa
“Isa, where have you been?” My grandmother pushed me toward my father’s office. “Everyone’s been looking for you.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep, and I wasn’t in the mood to deal with whatever I’d done wrong today. I wished I was the debutante my parents wanted me to be, but it just wasn’t me. So, the best I could do was pretend. Well, at least in public.
“I swear, Oma. I haven’t done anything this time.”
She gave me a skeptical lift of her right brow. “Hasi, you know as well as I do your intentions are innocent, but your delivery has much to be desired.”
I should’ve taken offense to my grandmother calling me a soft and cuddly rabbit at twenty-five, but it had been her term of endearment for me since I was a roly-poly baby who could barely walk on my chubby legs.
“Papa only gets offended because I don’t do as he says. Women can do work and accomplish something even if they have the option not to.”
“It isn’t done, Isa. You aren’t like other girls. If you were hurt or taken, it would destroy our family.”
My shoulders slumped. I’d heard this nearly every day of my life. It was my burden as the only child of Russo Benz, and the fact I was female. If I’d been born the favored gender, none of the restrictions I lived with would have fallen on me.
“I’m not as weak as everyone believes.”
Instead of responding, Oma kissed my forehead and shoved me in the direction of the hallway that led to Papa’s office.
It was a lost cause to get my Oma to understand that there was more to my life than finding the right match, or making the right social connections.
The world around us had modernized, but the organized families with generations of history hadn’t evolved. I knew without a doubt, if anyone got wind of what I did on the regular, Papa would lock me in this house and have one of his guards on my ass at all times. Thankfully, the protection Papa had assigned to me since I was five was loyal to me. Plus, I paid them a hefty extra salary on top of what Papa gave them to keep my secrets.
I approached the oversized wooden door to Papa’s office and knocked.
“Come in, Schatz,” Papa called from the other side.
No one would believe the man known for his ruthless control of his territory for over twenty-five years used pet names for his daughter.
I entered, expecting Papa to be alone, but Mama sat in a chair across from him. She wrung her hands together and wouldn’t look me in the eyes. From the puffiness of her face, it was obvious she’d been crying, and Papa looked no better.
I narrowed my gaze, worry creeping in. Mama rarely, if ever cried.
“What’s going on? Is something wrong?”
“You did this. You tell Isa,” Papa said to Mama. The anger in his tone told me whatever was going on had been done behind his back. “The last thing I’d ever want was anyone from that family touching my daughter.”
What the hell was going on?
“Mama. What did you do?”
Tears spilled down her face. “Please know I agreed to this when your Opa was alive. I never expected Arabella to die. I’d never have accepted the contract otherwise.”
Arabella? She couldn’t mean Arabella Weber. She’d been Mama’s childhood best friend but had lost touch when she’d married Jonas Weber. Mama used to say that if Arabella’s first fiancé had lived, she would have been happy, instead of miserable with Jonas Weber. The fact that she was kidnapped, murdered, and her husband had done nothing to save her proved it.
Did Mama just say contract? What the hell?
“I’m not following. What contract?”
Mama pulled a tissue from the box on Papa’s desk and dabbed her eyes.
“Spit it out, Christina.”
“I…I…” She hesitated.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake. Your mother and grandfather arranged your marriage to Sebastian Weber. I didn’t find out the details until Weber sent the contract to us, saying it was time.”
“You have to be kidding me. I’m not getting married. I don’t even know the man.”
Someone had to really be off their rocker to think I’d accept this without argument.
“That’s not all. Marrying him means our families are joined. Since I don’t have a son, Weber’s son will take over the family upon my death. It means your child with Weber will eventually rule everything.”
This couldn’t be real. No one did that shit anymore. No, that wasn’t true—no one in the world outside of families like mine did that shit anymore. But I never thought Mama of all people would agree to this.
“I don’t understand. Why would Opa do this? Why would you?” I accused my mother. “I was fifteen when this was drawn up. And he was probably…I don’t even know how old this guy is.”
Her eyes were filled with sadness, but I couldn’t care less. She’d never told me, never told any of us, and she put our whole family on the line. My heart ached. She knew I hadn’t been a traditional girl from the time I became a teen. I was the exact opposite of what a well-bred princess was.
Instead of responding to the questions I wanted her to answer, she said, “He was nineteen.”
“Did he know about it? Was I living all these years engaged?”
“He didn’t know,” Papa said. “He’s about to learn this same news.”
“This can’t be binding. It’s not legal.” I refused to accept this as my fate. But deep inside, I knew there was no getting out of it.
“Schatz, I’m sorry. The contract was made by the heads of our families. Our honor depends on it. Your Opa wanted this and made it so we…you could not refuse.”
My temper boiled over. “What does that mean?”
“If you refuse, our business, holdings, everything transfers to the Webers. This part is very legal. If you accept, a trust
