My mother took over the meeting after a certain point. One that I can’t really remember.
Natasha’s description of what happened was so vivid I saw it playing in my mind like a movie. Like a horrible, gore filled movie. She explained the way Simion tried to interfere, tried to save his father and one of the men beat him with a bat until he was coughing blood. They had a doctor look at him and he’s very lucky. The doctor advised against travelling, but we have no choice. Keeping our people safe is our number one priority.
The Salas left, but the Lungus have stuck around and are chatting with Stefan in the corner of the room. I still stay seated where I was during the meeting, processing all of this. All of this that I wish I didn’t fucking have to.
“Bianca, can you and I chat? I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for a few days, but we keep missing one another.” My mother says, placing a hand over mine.
I nod, not really sure as to what I’m getting myself into. “Sure. What’s up?”
She sucks in a deep breath and releases a sigh before she speaks, “This is horrible timing and I know that, but we’ve run out of time, Bianca. I can’t give you anymore. Your father has been pressuring me to have this conversation with you, considering you’re twenty-one now.”
She’d better not be going where I think she is. “Don’t even say it.”
She gives me a knowing look, blinking a few times. “You knew this day was coming. You’re a mafia princess, Bianca. All of you get married. It’s simply how things are done.”
“Oh? And who have you decided is fit to be my husband?” I mock her, growing irritated by the moment. In this day and age arranged marriages shouldn’t even be a thing.
“Mircea Lazar. He comes from a great Romanian family. A well respected one.” She’s so quick to jump to the man’s defense.
“Lazar. The same Lazar boy who bullied me when I was little?” Okay, this so isn’t going to happen.
My mother furrows her brows, “Did he bully you? I don’t recall that.”
“You don’t remember the boy who put fluff in my hair? He was the reason my whole head had to be shaved when I was nine, Mom. Jesus.”
She cackles, “Oh, yes. Now I remember. Yep, that would be him.”
“Over my dead body.”
“Bianca, don’t make a scene. This is something many women have done generations before you. Hell, and at least I’m not making a decision for you.”
“You literally already have.”
“This isn’t the way I was promised to your father. You have a choice.”
“That is such bullshit and you know it. You’re only giving me a heads up so I can make the choice to fall in love with this perfect Romanian boy, right? One who I happen to remember was quite fucking foul to me as a child.”
“Bianca—,” My mother starts to speak, but quickly closes her mouth. Her eyes dart toward the door and I spot a man who must be in his mid-twenties, with strikingly dark hair. He’s wearing a striped, fitted suit with oxford shoes. His entire essence screams money.
I see, a rich Romanian man.
Not impressed.
“No, and I mean it.” I grumble.
She has no clue how much I mean it, either. Marriage has never been a must have for me. If it happens, great . . . but I’ve seen so many people get torn apart after they get married. It seems like a waste of time.
“Come with me, little girl.” My father grabs my forearm and tugs me out of my chair, pulling me off to the side of the room. He keeps his voice low, though anyone here can see we’re both obviously heated.
“I said no.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion. Now I am telling you this would be an amazing union.”
“I am not a fucking child!” I hiss, rather loudly. I don’t give a damn if people are looking at us. They’re in our home, so again, they can suck it. “Things aren’t done the way they were back in the 18, or even 1900s. This is a modern time, and I’m not some woman who can be passed to a man with a promise of a goat.”
My father belts out a laugh, “I promise you, you’re worth more than a goat.”
“Fuck you, and fuck you even more for thinking this is funny.”
My father has never been the type to tolerate disrespect, even from his own daughter. His typical ivory skin flushes with red and I know he’s thinking about striking me, of making me an example . . . but he won’t, because he knows better.
“You will marry who your mother and I decide is a good fit for you.” He grits.
“No, I won’t.” I stand firm in my decision, metaphorically digging my heels in the ground.
“Why not?!” He snaps.
I let out a laugh, “Have you ever, for one second, thought I might be dating someone?”
Chapter Three
Mircea
Well, she’s grown into quite the spitfire. I haven’t even been in this room for five minutes and she’s already making a scene, telling her parents how she won’t be my wife. I want to laugh, but I know if I do, it’ll only make her detest me even more.
I’m not paying much attention to whatever’s coming out of her mouth. That is, until she mentions dating someone. Now I’m too invested to find out what in the actual fuck is going on.
“I’m sorry. What did you just say?” Ion seems caught off guard, though if she were my daughter I’d
