On the drive over, I begin to wonder who may have asked for my hand. I lean back into the seat and gaze out the window. After finding out that Liliana is being forced to marry the embodiment of Lucifer himself, I'm not too thrilled at finding out who my potentials are. Though it reminds me to be grateful, my father is allowing my opinion on the matter, which is a rarity for women born of the mafia. Most don't get a choice or say when it comes to who they will marry. We are simply pawns given to another for our families to gain something in return. We are expected to be obedient, available, and submissive to our husbands, never speaking or acting out. I roll my eyes at the absurdity.
Ugh, I can't see myself actually doing this. It's not me. To top it all off, I won't even be with Lil. We will both be alone. Ever since that day we met all those years ago, we have been inseparable. Always at each other's side. I don't have any siblings, so she is the closest thing to a sister to me. Our relationship isn't just friendship; it’s more than that for both of us. We have always had each other, been there to help support one another through everything, so knowing she will be forced to leave is hard to accept. I try to blow it off, hide behind sarcastic comments when inside it's a crumbling hit.
We have been checking on her future husband in New York now and again, and he is quite appalling. He has zero respect for the fact he will be marrying Lil, but that's just how our men are. They don't care about us or our feelings. Every time I see the hurt on her face, it makes me want to strangle him with my own hands. Knowing that will never happen, I sigh as we pull up to my childhood home. Tucking away my emotions and anything related to vulnerability, I step out of the car. Something I learned to do a long time ago.
Walking into our home, I make my way to my father's office, knocking on the door before I enter. "Come in." I hear him call out through the barrier. Opening the door, I peek inside.
"Hi, Daddy."
"Aw Gia, glad you're here. Come sit." He motions to the seat in front of his desk. Taking my place, he waits to begin our discussion getting right tothe point. "There have been a few offers regarding your hand in marriage, and despite my best efforts to hold off as long as I can, they are futile now. I can't keep postponing the inevitable and risk angering any more families."
Looking up at him, I nod. "I know, and you know I appreciate that you have. The freedom you have allowed me has been the best gift you could have given me." My gratefulness is sincere, as most fathers don't care about what happens to their daughters.
He nods, acknowledging my gratitude before continuing. "As promised, I will allow you to have a say in whom you marry. But know you can't postpone this out by denying all that comes through. I have sent enough away already that if you do, the only thing left will be the older men looking for a spry young wife in their dying age.” I ponder over that option for a moment.
Well, if they are going to die soon...
My father gives me a stern look as if knowing what I am thinking. “Gianna, if you were to marry and they die while you are still at a marriageable age, you will be expected to remarry. Don’t get any ideas in your head. Just because they die doesn’t mean you are free to do what you wish. I will be expected to remarry you. I do not wish to see you end up with them just to be passed to another just as much as you don't wish it upon yourself. So I need you to work with me on this and not be stubborn. If you are, I will strip that right and pick someone myself. Am I clear?"
"Yes, father," I grumble. There goes that idea. A deep sigh escapes my lips. I don't want to cause him any more grief. My father had been more than kind to me. Turning away suitors and marriage proposals that started to come in when I was sixteen. On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me the gift of freedom or his idea of freedom. He bought me an apartment off the coast and allowed me to live by myself, with the exception that I have guards everywhere I go. It has only been six months, but I have relished every moment of it even though I knew it would be short-lived.
While growing up, my father was a kind and level headed man. He was stern when he needed to be, but he has always loved and cared for me. I can see it in everything he does for me, and knowing Liliana doesn’t have the same, it makes me appreciate what he does. "Okay, good. So now we can discuss the offers that have been made. So far, I have had three men request your hand. Amo Settini, Rafael Nino, and Mario Gerinno." He watches me as he gives me the names, trying to gauge my reaction. At the mention of Mario, my face pinches tight.
"Not Mario, father. He is almost twice your age!"
My father nods as if he expected that from me. "And the others?"
"Amo is so boring, and Rafael is so cocky. He thinks the whole world
