Page 26 of Wicked Mafia Mistake
"Lorenzo Ferraro."
I ignore the urge to take a step back when he moves toward me. My creep-o-meter is raging off the charts. Shoving down my instincts to find the nearest exit, I take his hand instead. I was raised to be painfully polite and because my father is watching. And really, I don't have a reason not to take the man’s extended hand.
His grip is firm, practiced, and holds on a beat too long. His eyes move down my body and back up with an efficiency that tells me he's appraised women the way you appraise property for a while now.
Nice to know my creep-o-meter is firing on all cylinders.
"Nice to meet you, Lorenzo."
He takes in my fashion choices as he holds my hand and I have to say…the cherry lipstick delivers on the confidence level yet again because my voice is rock steady.
"Please, sit." My dad gestures to the chair across from his desk and I lower myself into it while Lorenzo takes the seat beside me. Close. Too close. His knee is inches from mine and I shift toward the armrest without making it obvious.
Dad pours himself another drink, and as usual he doesn't offer me one. That's how I know this is bad.
"Sweetheart, Lorenzo's family and ours have a long history.”
“Do we? I’ve never heard of them.”
I don’t mean to sound out of sorts, but I’m not exactly here of my own free will and my gut is telling me the vibes I’m picking up on are all leading to no good.
“The Ferraros have been allies of this family for two generations." He sets the glass down with a bit too much force, telling me he doesn’t appreciate my tone.
Well, too bad. I don’t like any of this.
He folds his hands on the desk and I watch his fingers lace together the way they do when he's about to deliver a verdict that spells my doom. "I've been in conversations with his father about strengthening that alliance for a while now."
My stomach tightens. "What does that have to do with me?"
Harrison looks at Lorenzo. Lorenzo looks at me and that same creepy-ass smile returns.
"Your father and I have come to an arrangement," Lorenzo states like he’s reading off the weather forecast to me. His voiceis smooth, modulated, every syllable placed like a chess move. "A union between our families. One that benefits everyone involved."
I stare at him. Then my father. Then back at Lorenzo.
They gotta be kidding. "A union." I repeat the word like it doesn't belong to any language I speak. "You mean a marriage. You know, it’s okay to spell out your ill intentions plainly."
I splay the palm of my hand across my stomach to ease the quivering.
"I mean a partnership." Lorenzo leans forward, his elbows on his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. "One built on mutual respect, shared interests, and the consolidation of two powerful families."
Bullshit.
He's talking about me like a merger. Like I'm a column on a spreadsheet that needs to balance.
I turn to my father. "Dad. What is this? I don’t even know this man and you want me to marry him?"
My father's jaw tightens and for half a second the mask slips and I see the truth underneath. Shame. He's ashamed. But not ashamed enough to stop.
"I’ve kept you apart from the dealings of my business. It’s time for that to change and for you to stop your silly boutique business and step into your intended role. For the family. We have debts, Sloane. Significant ones. The Ferraro alliance resolves them. Lorenzo is a good man, from a powerful family, and he's offered a generous arrangement that protects all of us."
A good man. From a powerful family. The words land on me one at a time, each one heavier than the last. My father is sitting behind his desk telling me he sold me to settle a debt. He's using the same voice he uses to negotiate contracts and close deals, like I'm a line item. Like I'm collateral.
I grip the armrests of my chair because my hands want to shake and I will not give either of them that.
"How long?" My voice is quiet. Too quiet. "How long have you been planning this?"
"Sloane, it's not like that."
