The Mafia Contract Series

I am so angry I can’t think straight. I’ve been chosen like a toy off a shelf with no regard for my feelings at all. That animal didn’t even have the manners to address me. He looked right through me and sealed my fate with a few unemotional words.

‘I’ll take her now.’ Fucking prick. How dare he make me feel worthless and unimportant? The only good thing is that Daphne was spared from this torture.

She follows behind us and I know she’s afraid. Both for me and for her because I’m going through something that’s in her future, too. Married off for an alliance. A pawn in a deadly game of chess and I’m in no doubt that Angelo Sontauro intends on taking the King.

I’ve heard the rumors. Unguarded comments from my father’s soldiers when they think they’re alone. Word on the street is, Angelo Sontauro is a rising star and one to watch, so I’m not surprised my father was so keen to forge an alliance with him. Fuck my life because I made this easy on them and I despise my weak will even more than I despise my parents.

“Hurry up.” Mom’s curt voice slashes through the silence and makes me shiver-with hatred.All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Where are those moms off the television? Where do they live because I’d like to meet one?

We reach my bedroom and it’s already a hive of activity. It seems that as soon as the contract was agreed, the wheels were set in motion to transport me from this life into another. Cases are open and my belongings are being tossed in by the maids and I watch my room being stripped before my eyes and feel nothing at all. If anything, I’m glad to be rid of it. If I only knew what to expect, I’d breathe a lot easier.

Angelo Sontauro. Why does that man stay in my mind with his dark beauty that is so unfair? A man so handsome I should be ecstatic, but his cold manner and dead eyes told me there’s nothing left inside to play with. He’s as destroyed as I am, and I would be well advised to steer clear of him.

Mom heads into the closet and expects us to follow and Daphne whispers, “It could have been worse. At least he’s your own age.”

“If you say so.” I can’t celebrate my good fortune when there isn’t any. Small scraps of platitudes to make me feel better about what’s happening won’t cut it with me. I want my freedom and nothing else. I want to run and never be found. Start again and live under the radar because if this is my future, shoot me now.

“Jasmine.”

Mom’s sharp voice has me running and as I enter the closet, she holds up a white silk gown and my heart sinks. “This will have to do. I ordered it just in case. Take off your dress and put this on.”

Words aren’t needed in this situation and with a heavy sigh I shrug out of one designer dress and anticipate the next one, wishing like crazy I could pull on my combats and fight for my life. I may be dressed in silk and smelling like an English Rose, but inside my armor will be polished and ready for battle because Angelo Sontauro just made the worst decision of his life.

Mom beckons me over and rasps, “Take off your underwear.”

My face burns as I do as she says. There is no point in arguing, and I don’t miss the derisive look she gives me as she snaps, “Take a shower and use a razor to remove every trace of body hair. Men prefer it that way.”

Daphne gasps, reminding me what could happen in the next few hours, and the realization hits me hard. He may want that.

I can feel the nerves jangling as I head for the shower and wonder why that wasn’t my first thought in all of this. I was so busy concentrating on the marriage itself, I never thought for a minute about what happens next. Just imagining that man staring at my naked body makes the blood rush to my head and I think I may be having a stroke. If anything, I hope I am because God help me, I don’t want that.

Scrubbing my body, I imagine what he will do to it, and I already feel the shame flooding through me. I don’t want to give him anything, least of all my virginity. Fuck, why am I not prepared for this?

I try to concentrate my mind on other things and, using the razor, carefully scrape away the hideous hair that my mother obviously thinks would turn a man off. I’m feeling like a fool because I never even considered this.

Suddenly, the door to the shower is wrenched open and mom stands there looking at me with sharp eyes. “Go and lie on the bed. I’ve asked Dora to call Beatrice. She’ll take care of your body and if only we had more time, we could deal with that infernal purple hair.”

She wastes no time and pulls me roughly from the shower and I almost slip on the soapy water.

As she propels me toward the bedroom, I am mortified when she snaps, “Lie on your back. She won’t be long.”

The fact the room is a fucking circus, and a hive of activity doesn’t make me feel any better and Daphne’s pink cheeks and frightened eyes tell me she’s hating every minute of this too.

Mom heads out of the room, no doubt to plot more misery for me and Daphne crouches beside the bed and whispers, “I’m sorry, Jas. What does it feel like?”

“Like Hell.”

A lone tear seeps from the corner of my eye, and I brush it away angrily. I can’t be weak. I can’t lose control because that is all I have left. My soul.

I will not be broken by a mere man like Angelo Sontauro, and this will be the last time my parents break me before I reluctantly pick up the broken edges of my sanity and try to piece it back together again. The trouble is, once something has already been broken, the cracks remain. Jagged reminders of a turbulent past that mean you’re never the same again.

“Stay focused, Jas. You are the strong one. Remember that.”

Daphne brushes a strand of hair behind my ear and smiles so sweetly it melts my heart. “Will you be ok?”

The pain of leaving is unbearable because it means leaving her. My partner in crime and the only friend I have in the world. “I might not see you for months.” My voice catches and she shakes her head with a determination I never knew she possessed. “We’ll find a way and by the time we’re finished, those men won’t know what hit them.”

Curling her pinkie finger around mine, we shake on it and repeat the words that get us through the dark times. “We will be free or die trying.”

The maids continue bustling around, unaware of the mutiny in their midst. Sometimes I wonder what they think of this shit show of a family. They remain expressionless and I suppose it’s their own form of self-preservation. Nobody likes to draw attention to themselves under this roof. A fist to the stomach, a slap to the face and a kick to the shin. It’s not only my sister and I who suffer that indignity.

The staff receive the same treatment and bruised ribs, and bloodied noses are a common sight under Franco Rossi’s roof.

Reaching up, I touch Daphne’s bruise and whisper, “Does it hurt?”

“I could say the same thing to you.”

If anything, we have matching wounds which make us giggle, showing how fucked our minds are.

“What will you do about…” Daphne’s eyes widen and she looks around and bends her mouth to my ear. “Don’t say his name.

They’ll hear you.”

Her troubled eyes stare at me with resignation and my heart goes out to my sister. Somehow, among this madness, Daphne found love. Unbeknown to my parents, she’s been secretly meeting one of the soldier’s sons. A young lad who helps at parties and in the garden. When my parents are occupied, they meet in secret and if anyone knows about them, they have kept their secret well. I’m guessing it’s because the staff hate my parents even more than we do and because we treat them with respect, they look out for us and keep us from discovery.

Daphne and Eddie are two beautiful people and I worry so much they will be caught one day.

Eddie will lose his life in the most horrific way if he is caught. His father will be made an example of, and Daphne will be forced to watch. I’m not sure they’ve thought this through at all, but love is blind, and it appears they have shit loads of love dust shoveled in their eyes because they can’t see past the love they share.

“Please end it, Daphne.”

I implore her and I know she hears me because her lip trembles and her eyes fill with tears as she whispers, “I can’t.”

“They’ll kill him; you have to put him first.”

“I know.”

She bends her head and I feel my own heart wrench in two because above my own happiness, I want it for my sister.

The door opens and mom heads in, closely followed by her beautician Beatrice. Before I can even blink, hot wax is dripped on my tender parts and then big strips of paper stuck to it. As they rip them off one by one, I scream in agony and only my mother’s fierce promise quietens me down. “If you scream again, I’ll give you something to scream about. Now get used to pain, Jasmine, because lying on your back staring at the ceiling is your future now. The pain you are experiencing is nothing to what’s coming, and it will happen on repeat. So, grow some balls and put up and shut up because nobody likes a cry baby and I’m guessing your husband will soon tire of you, anyway.”

She smirks. “Get used to sharing him. Because you won’t be the only thing he dips his cock into. If anything, hope he’s easily distracted, and you will be left alone most nights. I’m guessing it won’t be long either, so grow up Jasmine and accept that childhood is long gone. This is the beginning of a lifetime of pain, so learn to deal with it.”

As pep talks go, this has probably broken the world record for the worst and yet it has the desired effect because it renders me silent and deadly. My emotions shutting down one by one as they retreat to a safe place to be brought out when the coast is clear. Pain, humiliation, and neglect. Not really the best recipe for marriage but would explain a few things regarding my parent’s one.

As I’m waxed, buffed and lotioned up, I lie like a frozen statue as I let them do their worst.

Then, as they slip the hideous silk gown over my body, I’m not surprised that underwear is forbidden. Mom asks for my hair to be pulled back into a bun and disguised with a tiara, and then she pulls a veil out from thin air and drapes it over my head.

Stepping back, she looks at her handiwork with a frown and says with a sigh, “She’ll have to do.

Come, we’ve kept Mr. Sontauro waiting long enough.”

As she pulls me roughly toward the door, I say in a panicked voice, “Wait, aren’t you going to change?”

Mom just laughs with no hint of humor and says coldly, “No. You’re on your own. We’ve done our best. Now you belong to Angelo Sontauro, and he can deal with your temper, your strong will, and your complacency. You are no longer our responsibility.”

“But…” I look at Daphne in fear and she blinks her eyes wide as the realization hits us both at the same time. This is it. I’m leaving and they aren’t even coming to my wedding. What sort of family is this?

Daphne steps forward and says in a frightened voice, “Can we go to the wedding? Jasmine may need a bridesmaid and someone to give her away.”

Mom just shakes her head and fixes her with a distasteful look. “I told you, she’s on her own now.

We’ll meet up on the very odd occasion, but only if her husband desires it. Say your goodbyes, because it may be some time before you see her again.”

The tears fall from both our eyes as Daphne heads my way, her arms outstretched. Before she can make it into my arms, mom pulls her roughly back and snarls, “Don’t spoil her dress. Words are good enough. Now, don’t let this family down, Jasmine, because if your husband is displeased with you, he will cut your throat and feed your dismembered body to the dogs. Remember that and play the game.

A mafia wife’s lifespan is short and brutal. Try to last longer than most, for all our sakes.”

The fact she pushes me out of the room doesn’t register, as her words echo in my mind like demons circling. What the fuck is happening and even more important, what the hell am I going to do about it?