Married With Malice: An Arranged Marriage Romance

The sound of yelling coming from downstairs snaps me out of my trance.

I don’t know how much time passed while I was lying curled on the floor with my misery but I’ve already come to one conclusion.

Luca can’t be dead.

I refuse to face a world without him.

And he would refuse to leave me.

Therefore, he isn’t dead.

“What the FUCK does it take?” My father screams amid shattering glass. “They should have been wiped out! And now you’re fucking telling me all we have are some dead capos and nameless grunts? If Richie dies today then the boy will be the head of the family and none of you useless shits even knows WHERE THE FUCK HE IS!”

The words penetrate my haze of pain and I bolt upright.

He’s talking about Luca. He has to be.

Luca is alive. Whatever my father tried to do, he didn’t succeed.

And I’m damn well not going to just lie here on the bedroom floor and weep while Luca is out there fighting. He’ll be desperate to find me.

My whimper of pain is involuntary as I struggle to sit up. Gingerly, I check my injuries.

This is the first time I’ve ever been punched in the stomach and I do not endorse the experience. The queasiness is a real pain in the ass and I keep dry heaving. Sour bile fills my mouth and I spit it on the floor. I’m afraid to look in case there’s blood but I see none. My left hip feels as bruised and sore as it used to when I’d crash on the ice ten times in a row after trying a new jump.

But the sharp ache under my right eye bothers me the most. The skin just above the cheekbone is puffy and so painful that I recoil when my fingertips explore the area. I think I’ll avoid looking in the mirror for now. I’m sure nothing good can come of that.

For the time being the shouting downstairs has ceased. Now that my father’s plans have gone to hell in a handbasket, maybe he’s forgotten that I’m even here.

I lower my face to the floor until I have a clear view of the strip of light beneath the door. Earlier, the light was mostly obscured by Sonny while he stood guard. His shadow is now gone. Sonny probably went downstairs to comfort my father after he failed to kill my husband.

I’m unsure if the door is locked but even if it is, I’ve picked the lock before and I can do it again.

However, I would really like to be wearing shoes. There’s something particularly shitty about confronting evil while barefoot. If I run into my father again, I’d love to be able to kick him without breaking a toe.

On the floor of my closet there are some old pairs of shoes that I didn’t bother to bring with me when I moved out. Slippers would be the most comfortable but the least effective when it comes to self-defense. The black leather boots could probably inflict some damage but the sound of the high heels clicking on the hard floor will announce my arrival from three rooms away. Not really ideal for a silent escape.

A pair of pink and white running shoes from high school should have been thrown out years ago but now they make a good choice. I slip them on my feet, search around for a weapon, and settle on a rather hefty first place skating trophy.

At least now I can understand why Luca always carries a gun. I sure wouldn’t mind having one handy.

For a full minute, I listen at the door. All I hear are some faint murmurings.

My plan, though weak, is to sneak downstairs and escape through the tunnel. The vast garage where my father keeps all of his prized vintage vehicles is probably not being heavily guarded on a day when everyone around here is preoccupied with declaring war on the Amato family. Once I get there, I’ll figure out what to do next.

In my mind, there’s a pleasant image of crashing through the garage doors behind the wheel of a candy apple red 1969 Ferrari. Perhaps I’ll need to run over some of my father’s mafia thugs as I speed toward freedom and to Luca. The thought makes me smile.

The door isn’t locked after all. Easing it open one inch at a time and praying for well oiled hinges, Sonny’s backside is the first thing I see. He’s standing ten feet away at the railing and peering down into the cavernous foyer below. My father’s voice has grown faint. He’s probably retreated to his office to yell at his underlings.

Though Sonny appears to be intently listening to whatever drama is unfolding in another part of the house, there’s no way I’ll make it down the wide staircase without him noticing.

The trophy is heavy in my hand. I grip it like a baseball bat and inch forward. I’m going to aim for the back of his skull. With any luck, he’ll just drop like a bag of rocks.

Or I might accidentally kill him.

This gives me some pause.

Of all my father’s men, he’s the one I’d least enjoy killing. I’ve met his daughter, a shy grad student who dreams of being a writer and adores her dad.

While I’m standing around having a crisis of conscience, my foot lands on a creaky floorboard. Recognizing my final chance to strike a blow, I still can’t do it. My arms droop, still holding the trophy, and Sonny spins around.

I’d forgotten that I probably look like I just fought a heavyweight boxing match. Sonny has surely witnessed plenty of awful scenes while carrying out my father’s dirty work, yet his face sags with dismay at the sight of my injuries.

Even more than that, he’s pissed. He would never ever beat the crap out of his daughter, lock her up and try to kill her husband.

Time to face reality. I’m never going to get far on my own, not with half the armed Barone entourage circling the property.

“Please help me,” I say to Sonny even though I REALLY hate asking for a favor from the man who recently followed orders to kidnap me. “I need to get out of here.”

He grimaces. He sighs. But he doesn’t immediately refuse. He’s thinking about it.

Unfortunately, he spends too much time mulling over his options. My father is back and he’s rapidly marching to the stairs. A pair of his favorite capos follow at his heels until my father growls at them to fuck off and go outside.

Sonny sighs once more and he gently plucks the weaponized skating trophy out of my hands. “Go back to your room, Annalisa.”

He walks into my room and carefully sets the trophy on top of my desk.

My father is huffing and puffing his way up the stairs as fast as his stubby, arthritic legs will carry him. Sonny gazes sadly at the floor, unable to meet my eyes.

“Coward,” I accuse Sonny and resentfully return to my room, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.

Sonny coughs. “I’m sorry,” he says as if that does anyone any good.

My father thuds to the open doorway, glares at Sonny and says, “Get out.”

Sonny slinks out of the room like a chastised puppy.

My father’s blazing eyes center on me. Can’t say I’m too fond of the deranged gleam within.

On the other hand, I might as well make one last plea to his humanity, just in case he’s discovered some.

“Please let me go, Daddy. All I want to do is go home to my husband. I love him.”

His answer is a flat stare. Not even a spark of compassion or parental love. I’m not sure he heard me.

“None of you three girls are worth much,” he says matter-of-factly, without a hint of remorse. “But you’re the least of them, Annalisa. As for Luca, he never really wanted you and I expect he’ll just cut his losses and run for his life. Because when I catch up with him, his life ends. And there’s no fucking way Luca Connelly takes that risk for you. No man would.”

By now it’s no secret that my father isn’t my biggest cheerleader. But this is the first time he’s ever made it so clear that I’m nothing to him. A prop. Even less than that. A burden. One he resents so deeply he can hardly see straight.

He watches me rise to my feet. I try not to grimace with pain and I fail.

“I’m leaving,” I say. “You don’t have to see me again, Daddy. I’ll walk right out the front door and you can forget that I ever existed.”

His lip curls. “That’s not a choice for you to make. Now go clean yourself up in the bathroom. I’ve sent for your sisters and I’ll tell your mother to bring you a plate of food.”

“No. I said I’m leaving and I meant it.”

He seizes my arm. “This isn’t a good day to defy me, little girl.”

And then, because I’m furious and exhausted and heartsick and all I want is to feel my husband’s arms around me, I do the worst possible thing I can do right now.

I spit right in his face.

He blinks at me in disbelief. I get some satisfaction out of successfully shocking him for the second time today.

That satisfaction, however, is very short-lived.

With an ugly roar of wrath, he wrenches my arm and I feel a menacing, yet sickeningly familiar pop in my shoulder, the one that still troubles me now and then, ever since it was badly dislocated ten years ago.

The momentum has thrown me to the floor but if I thought the worst was over, I was wrong. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father grab the skating trophy Sonny left on my desk.

A rush of intense fear squeezes the air from my lungs.

Today my father has been thwarted and humiliated. Now he’s going to take out his rage on the most convenient target. The blow is coming and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

My eyes screw shut and instinctively I curl up into a tight ball, protecting my head as best I can.

“I SHOULD HAVE HAD SONS!” my father screams.

Terror strikes anew when I realize he’s so out of control that he may not stop at hitting me once. He might not stop at hitting me twice. He might not quit until I’ve stopped breathing.

In that split second of mortal peril, my mind grasps for comforting images of Luca. The way he sometimes smiles in his sleep. The spark of mischief in his smirk. The tenderness in his eyes when he holds my face in his hands.

I love you, Luca.

A gunshot shatters the scene.

My eyes snap open and the sight is horrible.

Though his body hasn’t yet fallen, a piece of my father’s head is missing. A strangled gurgle is the last sound that leaves his mouth. I’m sure he’s dead before he hits the floor.

Luca stands in the doorway, the calm instrument of vengeance. He lowers the gun that just shot my father.

“Anni.” He drops the gun, his face pale with horror now that he’s taken a good look at me. He dashes over and falls to the floor at my side, touching me carefully with a mix of grief and wrath written on his face.

“I’m okay,” I assure him, but now I’m crying so I probably don’t sound convincing. As I try to put my arms around him, the move makes me yelp because I can’t move my right arm without excruciating pain.

Luca tries not to break down sobbing himself and his arms gently circle me. “It’s all right, sweetheart. I’m here and he can’t hurt you anymore.”

This is very true. Just a few feet away, my father lies in a pool of blood and brain matter as his sightless, surprised eyes watch the ceiling. He definitely won’t be hurting anyone. He won’t be doing anything ever again.

Beyond his body, there’s more drama still playing out. The Castelli brothers are holding Sonny at gunpoint. My mother peers into the room containing her newly dead husband and feverishly makes the sign of the cross.

Her eyes flare with horror when she sees how battered I am. She swallows hard and beckons a hand. “Annalisa, come away from this room.”

Luca lifts me as carefully as possible and steps over my father’s dead body, carrying me into the hall. The numerous sources of pain on my body aren’t fun but they will heal. The monster is dead and I’m with the man I love.

Monte Castelli is glancing around nervously. “Guys, we’re about to get some company. There’s no chance all the soldiers outside didn’t hear that shot.”

My mother straightens up and addresses Sonny. “You. Give up your gun and come with me if you know what’s good for you. We will talk to the men together.”

She shuts the door to the bedroom, leaving my father’s body all alone. Her soft hand skims across my forehead and she gazes at me with tenderness and grief. “Bring her into my bedroom,” she says to Luca. “She’ll need a doctor.”

Luca obeys and carries me down the hall. As a child, I loved this room with the giant four poster bed, the endless satin pillows and the ornate gold touches on the antique furniture.

After setting me down cautiously on the mattress, Luca immediately begins examining my wounds. He unties my robe and with supreme gentleness, his fingertips prod to determine the extent of my injuries. When he gets to my shoulder, I can’t stifle a cry. He sucks in a sharp breath, blinking away tears.

“Your father did this to you?” he asks, scarcely able to talk through his fury.

“He’s dead now,” I remind Luca.

His jaw hardens. “If he wasn’t already dead then I would kill him slowly.”

With my good hand, I draw Luca closer. “He told me you were dead. In that moment, I thought I would die too.”

Luca presses my hand to his cheek and kisses my palm. He shudders out an emotional breath. “I’m alive, Anni. I’m with you.”

My throat is so raw that my voice sounds raspy. “What happened, Luca?”

“Bomb at the restaurant. Then a drive by shooting to pick off the survivors. Richie was hit multiple times. I don’t know if he’s alive or not right now. I hope he’s not.”

“What do we do now?”

“Don’t worry.” He brushes his lips over mine. “We’re together and we’ll stay together. You hear me, Anni? We’re going to leave all this chaos behind and we’ll never ever be apart.”

That sounds nice. So very nice. But first there’s some confusion to sort through.

“Luca.” I swallow and grimace at the dryness in my throat. “How did you know where I was?” My words end with a series of wracking coughs.

He goes to the adjoining bathroom, fills a small glass with water and helps me take a few sips. The door to the room is open and distant voices echo. Most prominent among them is my mother’s and even though I can’t make out the words she’s saying, I’ve never heard her speak with such force.

Luca sets the glass down on a nightstand. This is my mother’s side of the bed where the only other items on the table are a small lamp and a framed photo of me and my sisters taken one long ago Easter Sunday. We are wearing identical white dresses and I couldn’t have been more than five. I stand between my sisters, glaring stubbornly at the camera rather than smile on demand. Beside me, Daisy smiles prettily while cradling a pink carnation. On my other side, Sabrina pouts and grips my hand.

I love that picture so much.

“Your mother called me,” Luca says. “She was able to give me the location of all the guards and explained how I could access the property without being seen. She let us into the house through the tunnel.”

“My mother? Did she really?” This news is so startling that I try to sit up.

Luca nods and gently eases me back to the cloud of pillows. “She begged me to come right away. She was terrified your father would hurt you.”

I snuggle close to him and ignore the pain. “I’m sorry you always have to play the rescuer. But thank you for coming for me.”

He kisses my forehead and strokes my hair. “Don’t you know that I’d go to the ends of the earth for you?” He kisses my lips, slowly and languidly. His breath mingles with mine. “My Annalisa. My love. My wife. My queen.”

Outside the room, my mother’s voice becomes louder. She’s giving orders to someone to keep the guards at their posts and not to allow anyone outside of immediate family to access the property until checking with her.

Giulia Messina Barone walks in with her head up and her eyes clear, unwilling to waste a single moment of anguish on the dead man who was her tormenter. The blood has been washed from her mouth and only a faintly swollen lower lip remains from my father’s cruel punch.

My mother was very young and very sheltered when she was forced into marriage and sent to another continent. She never had the chance to discover who she is or to pursue her own dreams. She was pushed into motherhood early and suffered for so long at the hands of a monster that she became a shadow in her own home.

It’s easy to find fault with people when you truly don’t know what it takes for them to wake up every morning. Maybe they are just managing the best way they can, no matter how inadequate their efforts might seem.

I’m beginning to regret what my mother and I have missed out on by failing to comprehend each other. Now I feel a surge of pure love for the woman I wish I’d known better all this time.

“Mama.” I reach for her.

Her face softens and she crawls over the bed to me. It’s a strange time to realize that I feel completely safe and loved as my father’s dead body lies in a room down the hall and I look like I just crawled out of a bar brawl. However, as I lie here flanked by my husband and my mother, this is exactly how I feel.

“The doctor will be here soon,” she says as she strokes my hair. “And your uncle’s plane is already crossing the ocean. Don’t worry about a thing except feeling better. Vittorio will deal with the mess.”

She gestures with general disgust. ‘The mess’, clearly, is her dead husband.

“Uncle Vittorio is coming?” I’m unsure if this is good news or bad news.

“Yes. Like I said, don’t you worry. My brother will take care of everything. I have spoken to the men outside. Sonny will speak to the rest of them. Your father had bad ideas. He’s gone now. And anyone who doesn’t want to end up on Vittorio’s bad side will listen.” Her eyes move to my husband. “Luca, what will your people say?”

Luca weighs the matter carefully before answering. “Even if Richie lives, I don’t see how anyone would be willing to cross Vittorio Messina, especially not after the bosses were decimated today. You can tell your brother that we have no interest in continuing this war.”

“You can tell him yourself.” She shrugs but then gives him a long, searching look that ends with a grudging nod of respect. “You did well today. And Annalisa loves you.”

“I love your daughter,” Luca says. “The day Anni married me was the luckiest day of my life. I adore her beyond words.”

My mother breaks into a smile. “My girls all deserve that kind of love.”

A sudden medley of voices breaks out downstairs. Daisy and Sabrina have arrived.

“Where the hell is Anni?” Sabrina shrieks. “ANNI!”

Daisy sounds more upset than I’ve ever heard her as she shouts, “Anni, where are you?”

“I’m up here! Mama’s room!”

“Monte, get the hell out of my way,” Sabrina commands grumpily, followed by the thunderous sound of my sisters running up the stairs to find me. I sure hope Sabrina doesn’t trip and fall in the melee. And I really wish they didn’t have to see me all banged up like this but I know I can’t keep them away.

Daisy and Sabrina burst into the room at the same time and they both start exclaiming and sobbing as they surround me. Luca backs off briefly to give us space for our reunion.

Seconds later, Big Man Bowie strolls in with an extremely bewildered expression. This has been an exceptionally strange day even for someone as perpetually good natured as him. He’s not even grinning.

Daisy holds my hand with severe worry pinching her lovely face despite my repeated assurances that I’ll be fine. Sabrina remains distraught. She lays her head on my uninjured shoulder and sniffs through her tears.

Our mother stands at the foot of the bed and gazes lovingly at her three daughters.

When our eyes meet, she gives me a gentle smile. And even though it hurts my face, I smile back at her.