Yet, I didn’t think that it was.
I exited my room and hurried down the hallway to the main staircase of the house. I heard voices coming from the formal living room at the bottom of the stairs. A familiar voice at that. I groaned to myself when I realized who was there and why my father wanted me to dress the way that I did.
Antonio Lombardo was downstairs, and my father was trying to play matchmaker between me and the wealthy Lombardo heir, though not just any heir.
Heir to the Lombardo Crime Family.
I hesitated at the top of the stairs, not even breathing for a few moments as I listened to their discussion. I couldn’t hear much, only bits and pieces, but I had a bad feeling about this meeting, and a weight in my stomach made me feel nauseated.
Antonio had been flirting with me for months, and I’d tried to avoid him at all costs. I could see the way his beady little eyes looked at me, watching my every move like I was his prey.
“Emilia?” my dad’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs. I heard his footsteps as he began the ascent.
I took a deep breath and continued walking down. There was nowhere to run right now. There was only one way out of the house, and that was down these stairs.
Through my father.
“There you are,” he said, frowning so deeply I thought his face might get stuck like that. “Hurry along, dinner is about to be served.”
I wasn’t hungry in the slightest. In fact, the very thought of food made me ill, but I nodded and followed him into the formal living room.
It was hard to believe that at one time, my family had lived in a moderate home in Liberty, that we were once a normal family before my mother died and my dad moved us to Vegas and got into the casino business. Before he began networking with the likes of the Lombardos.
The formal living room was as large as our home in Liberty had been. A marble fireplace was the centerpiece of the room, and where my eyes fell instead of on the man waiting for me just off to the side. Photos of my parents lined the mantle, along with baby photos of me. My favorite photograph was one with my mother holding me close to her chest, a smile on her face that radiated utter joy. I was only about six or so in the photo and she died a couple months after it was taken. I’d always felt cheated when I looked at the photo, because unlike my father, I was certain my mother had actually loved me.
“Emilia, darling, you look stunning,” Antonio said, crossing the room from the bar in the corner.
Antonio might have been considered a good-looking man by many, but I assumed that was the money talking. Anyone wealthy and powerful enough could look handsome in a custom Armani suit and a Rolex. The man was tall with lean muscle, and his black hair was styled by an expensive stylist. The threads of grey at his ears added a distinguished look to him. His face was a little too chiseled for my liking - all rough edges that looked dangerously sharp to the touch. His eyes were slightly too small for his face and reminded me of a rat’s eyes. They were dark, nearly black, which only made his stare more unnerving. His nose was rather large on his face, and I often wondered why a man of his wealth wouldn’t have fixed such a large nose on an otherwise relatively handsome face, but I didn’t dare ask. It seemed to be a family nose, shared by his father and likely his father as well.
Antonio took my hand in his and placed a kiss on the knuckles. Feeling his lips against my flesh filled me with unease. My hand was shaking as he continued holding it.
“Are you cold, darling?” he asked, rubbing my hand between both of his.
“No, I’m fine,” I said, pulling my hand away as gently as I could.
I knew my greeting was less than suitable for a man like Antonio. He expected me to fawn all over him, to flirt back. But I had no interest in entertaining the likes of him. As soon as I could, I planned to move out of my dad’s home and leave this life behind. I didn’t agree with any of it, and now that I knew exactly what my father was up to, I had no intention of being part of it.
“Dinner is served,” our maid called from the doorway to the dining room.
“Thank you, Angelica.” I was often the only person who acknowledged she existed.
My father motioned for us to follow him into the dining room. Antonio let me lead the way. Only one reason for that - I could feel his eyes on my ass as I hurried to take my seat.
Antonio pulled out my seat for me, and I eagerly sat down, hoping it would keep his eyes off my assets. He took a seat next to me, sitting far too close for my liking. His cologne was making me sick to my stomach – almost as much as the way his eyes nearly popped from his skull to look at my cleavage. I felt like I was on display, goods to be sold, and I blamed my father as anger flitted through me.
Angelica served us, but I couldn’t be bothered to eat the fancy steak. Only the best cuts for Antonio, of course, but I merely pushed it around on my plate. Dinner was a relatively silent affair as the two men ate with relish, completely ignoring the fact that I wasn’t eating.
My father clapped his hands together, causing me to jump, as he finished his meal. “Oh Emilia, my sweet daughter, I have some amazing news for you today.”
The way he announced it sent a chill down my spine. I didn’t answer, hoping he would continue. After a moment of me staring at him, he finally continued speaking.
“Antonio has requested your hand in marriage,” my father announced gleefully. “And I have happily accepted his offer.”
I dropped my fork, and it clattered against the fine china. My jaw practically hit the floor. “Excuse me?”
His smile dimmed, but he corrected it quickly. The look in his eyes was frightening, but I only returned his gaze. “You are now engaged to this find young man.”
“Don’t I get a say in this?” I stammered.
My father’s eyes narrowed; he looked as disappointed with me as when I told him I intended to go to college. And he looked angry. “Any woman alive would be happy to enter into this partnership. I don’t understand why you would disagree.”
“Because I don’t want to get married, for one thing.” There were a million other reasons I could list, but ultimately, the most important one was that I didn’t want to. “I’m planning on going away to graduate school next year and—”
My dad and Antonio both scoffed rather loudly, stopping me. “You will not be going to graduate school, Emilia,” my father said.
“Yes, I will, Dad,” I replied indignantly.
“You don’t need to continue your education, Emilia,” Antonio said from beside me, looking at my breasts before lifting his eyes to mine. “While I admire an educated woman, you won’t need to worry about having a career. Money will never be an issue for you as long as you’re my wife.”
“I don’t care about your money,” I spat, turning my eyes to Antonio and glaring at my father. “I have goals of my own that don’t involve being a kept woman. And why would I want to marry someone who doesn’t know me well enough to get that?”
My father stood up across the table, his face as red as the blood boiling inside my veins. I pushed my chair back and stood up as well, staring him in the eyes.
“Emilia, you will do as I say. Antonio has been very generous in our agreement and I know you will have a good, comfortable life with him.”
“I am not a bargaining chip, Dad,” I countered furiously. I’d only stood up to him a handful of times in my life, and this was certainly one of them. “You can’t just marry me to someone without my consent. I’m not for sale.”