Sold to Mr. Giordano

Arielle

I turn up the volume on the radio blaring some new song I heard last month through the penthouse. Arabella left before it got too late last night, Angelo left this morning to do whatever business the Capo has planned for him. Carmelo is sitting on the couch reading a magazine pretending he doesn’t notice me dancing and singing at the top of my lungs.

Jumping from couch to couch, my hair left long as I whip it around. My arms are in the air waving, I shut my eyes and belt out a note. I sing the lyrics at the top of my lungs and do a little spin.

I crash into something fearing I knocked into the lamp or the television, but it’s infinitely worse. Antonio is standing like a statue gripping my shoulders which prevented me from falling.

“Jesus Christ! How long were you standing here!” I put my hand over my erratic heartbeat. I walk over and turn the volume all the way down on the radio.

“Since the song began.”

“Why did you stop me!”

“Because you seemed like you were enjoying yourself,” he shrugs.

I fix my shirt and pull the hem down. I tie my hair back and fan my overheated, red face. “What do you want?”

“I was just checking in.”

 “Why?”

 His eyebrows furrow. “Because you are my fiancée.”

“Your Russian enemies didn’t get me, yet. I’m fine. You can attend to your business,” I don’t know where the bitterness is coming out of me from.

“You are my business too, you know.” He crosses his arms over his tailored navy suit. I watch as the suit strains against his bulging biceps.

  Get his naked body out of your head.

“Yes of course I’m business, wouldn’t want to ruin your little business deal with my daddy, and heaven forbid if your baby making machine dies!”© 2024 Nôv/el/Dram/a.Org.

He jerks his head back. Out of the corner of my eyes Carmelo stands looking like he’s ready to intervene.

“You feel that way?”

“It is that way. Why else is their arranged marriages?! They’re there for political advantage and conceiving children!”

Antonio purses his lips and brushes his suit jacket. “I must get going.” He turns on his heel and leaves.

 Why is this man stuck in my head? He is terrible.

 Turning on the radio again, a love song is a dagger to my heart and my mind conjures up another naked image of what Xander probably looks like. Bronze, smooth skin, defined pecs, rigid abs, and strong arms. I feel heat pooling in my legs and I close my legs closer together to try and ignore the need for friction.

 “Are you feeling okay?” Carmelo says looming over me.

     “Yes.”

 “Your face is red and you’re sweating.”

“I’m fine!” I jump up defensively. “Go order Chinese or something,” like a brat, I run upstairs and slam my door shut.

I need a cold shower.

 After my much needed shower, I hear the door downstairs open and I rush down starving hoping it was the soldier Carmelo called in to pick up the Chinese food. I yelp when I see Angelo in the foyer. I put my hand over my horrified expression.

“Are you okay?!” I rush to his side. Angelo is covered in blood. He doesn’t look hurt.

“Fine,” his eyes are cold and dark.

“The-the blood, oh my god, Angelo what did you do?” I cry out.

“This is the business, Arielle!” He shouts. “We kill people, we are all fucking monsters and your husband is the worst of all of us. He is just like Father.” Angelo pushes past of me and heads upstairs to probably get cleaned up. Impact of working with my father!

 I sit down on the ground trying to catch my breath. Father, Luca, and Angelo never came home with blood on their person. If they did, they were good at hiding. They never exposed me to that part of the world—is this what my new life is going to be like? Xander coming home soaked in blood. I won’t be able to bear his touch if those hand murdered a man just hours before.

 “You shouldn’t have seen something like that,” Carmelo says from over my shoulder.

“What does it matter,” I put my hands in my face and shake my head. “I’m so scared, Carmelo. I don’t want to marry Antonio. I don’t want to be a part of this life.”

 Without any encouraging or soothing words, he simply rubs my back to comfort me.