Page 17 of Dark Mafia Heir

I could find a job, get married to a regular guy, and live a normal life.

Papa’s men will probably find me before I even board a flight, but there is a chance they won’t. The only thing holding me back is Harper. She’ll have to go through this torture if I’m not here, and I can’t allow that to happen.

Just like me, my sister has dreams, and she’s freaking intelligent. She deserves to spread her wings and fly, not caged by an old geezer like Enzo.

There’s a long silence between them, and the tension in the air is palpable.

“I can’t get married in a week,” I suddenly blurt out. I must be losing my mind because even the death stare my father gives me does nothing to stop the next words I say. “Heck, I don’t want to get married at all.”

“Vivienne,” Papa growls quietly.

“You did whatever it is you did to Antonio. Why do I have to pay the price?” I growl back, my fists clenching with all the rage I’ve held inside since I arrived for this dinner. “If you need a marriage alliance, how about you get married yourself?”

Enzo scoffs, his gray eyes narrowing on me. “You do not speak when we’re speaking, child.”

I dart my glare to him. “Ah, so you do know I am a child compared to you.”

Through the corner of my eyes, I see the way my papa is staring at me, as if he is barely holding back from flying across the table to shut me up.

“I won’t warn you again, Vivienne. Sit!” he says, this time his voice is louder than before.

I finally turn to look at him, and I don’t bother to hide all the hate and disgust I feel for him in this moment. If it’s already gotten to this point, then I don’t give a shit, even if the world is going to collapse. We can all burn down with it.

“Or what?” I yell back. “You’ll tie me up and send me off with him?”

There’s a flicker of something in my father’s eyes, but I know it is not remorse or recognition that he is wrong. No, my father is incapable of feeling such emotions. Whatever it is, I can’t wrap my fingers around it, and it doesn’t last long.

“If I need to, then I will,” he says indifferently. «You know what is at stake.”

“No, I don’t,” I shoot back. “The only thing at stake here is my entire life. Why am I paying for something you did wrong? It makes no sense.”

“We’ve already talked about this, Vivienne. There is only one other option,” my father says in that calm voice of his.

My blood curdles, my eyes twitching with rage. He’s at it again, threatening me with Harper as if she isn’t his daughter and it’s not his job to protect her. “Don’t you dare bring her up. I’ll deliver you to Antonio myself if you even think of it.”

We stare at each other long and intensely enough to rupture a volcano.

It’s the first time in my life that I dare to not only talk back at my father but to threaten him too. Except it is not just a threat. I’ll do anything for Harper; betraying our father is not out of the question.

And I think he knows. He recognizes my rage for what it is.

Enzo silently watches us with a slight curl of his lips. The asshole is having fun. Unfortunately for him, I do not run a circus, so he can entertain himself somewhere else.

I stand up to my feet without taking my eyes off my father for even a moment. “If you’ll excuse me, I need a moment to myself.”

My heart is pounding in my chest, and there’s a knot in my throat that makes it hard for me to breathe. I’ll really pass out if I have to stay here for an extra second.

My father doesn’t nod to give me permission to leave, but I start for the bathroom anyway. I feel the weight of his gaze boring straight into the back of my head, and my legs threaten to give out with each step I take toward the black door of the women’s toilet.

But it’s not just my father’s gaze that makes my scalp prickle and my pulse to start racing. It’s something else…someone. There’s someone watching me; I can feel it.

I whip my head around, trying to find who it is, but there’s no one. Not even a single person is staring in my direction now, including my papa. He’s gone back to his conversation with Enzo, probably telling him to ignore my protest and that my opinion doesn’t matter.

Turning around, I briskly walk into the toilet, away from whoever is watching me. Maybe there’s no one there, and I am just being paranoid because of Antonio’s threat.

I rest against one of the sinks and stare at my reflection in the mirror. My smoky make-up is flawless, I did my hair up in a neat bun and the silky black dress I am wearing does a good job of showing off my cleavage.

Papa said I needed to wear something like this. He said it’s good to give a sample of what I would be offering to entice the buyer.

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