Page 11 of Violent Delights

Once I’m alone, I pull out the sleek silver dress from the floor. It’s form-fitting, which I’m sure will satisfy my mother’s requirements. Also, it’s mostly covered, only hinting at a slight cleavage. Suddenly, my bedroom door whooshes open and my father’s enormous frame fills the entrance.

“Lelia, why aren’t you ready?” he questions but doesn’t wait for me to respond. “I need to speak with you.” His voice lowers and my gut churns at the ominous tone. He shuts the door behind him and settles at my vanity. He’s a big man, sturdy. One of the oldest Bosses in the city. “There’s something I need you to understand,” he starts. “This life comes with certain rules, with alliances that need to be formed.”

With every word he utters, the more my heart sinks. I’m pretty sure I know where this is going. At eighteen, I’m nearly an adult. And that means I’m eligible for my parents to send me off to live with a family and marry their son. It’s well-known around the clans.

“What kind of rules, Father?”

“You know about the decision I had to make about your future.” And there it is, the fact that I’m not a person, I’m a bargaining chip. I’m nothing more than a chess piece on the board.

“I-I don’t?—”

“You will be married on your nineteenth birthday,” he tells me suddenly. “They wanted to do this when you turned eighteen, but I fought for you, Lelia,” my dad tells me as if that’s supposed to make it all right. It’s not okay.

“What about school?”

“You can still attend classes.” His insistence is accompanied by a wave of his hand. “It’s not as if you’ll need to bear his children immediately.”

My mouth pops open in shock. My father is seriously telling me he expects me to get married in a couple of years, to focus on having children when I’m barely old enough to make my own decisions. Granted, eighteen doesn’t make you an adult; intelligence and maturity do. And most men in the clan aren’t anywhere near that, even if they have twenty or even thirty years on me.

“And who is this man I’m supposed to marry?” I sneer. Silently, I admonish myself for allowing my anger to show. Most times, I’m able to control it, to school my features so he doesn’t know he’s getting to me, but after this bombshell, I’m struggling to keep my composure.

“You’ll learn his name at the party,” Father tells me as if the surprise will be anything but frightening. My mind scans through my dad’s associates, all of them old, fat, and ugly. I’m not judgmental, but if I had to allow someone my father’s age to touch me, I’d be sick.

“Why not tell me now?” I ask as my fingers twist the material of the dress I’m still holding. My father’s gaze drops to my hands. He notices everything. It’s as if he’s reading me like a book. I wish I were blank pages instead of wild, bold letters telling him exactly what I’m feeling.

Without answering, he pushes to his feet and smiles. “Get dressed. The party is starting soon.” He leaves me with only that command. Even though I was looking forward to celebrating my mother’s birthday tonight, I’m anxious as to what my father has planned.

If he crashes Mom’s party, she’ll lose her mind. More so than she already has. It’s no secret that she’s allowed the stress of this world to get to her, but since she works as my father’s accountant, she’s seen and heard more than I ever have.

Violence rings like a beacon in the night within our lives.

It’s normal to see bloodshed and torture every day.

And that’s why I prayed I would be able to study abroad the moment I turned eighteen. But now, it seems my life is about to take another turn. One I’m certainly not ready for.

I change quickly, then pin my long blond hair into a messy bun, allowing strands to hang loosely to frame my face.

Most of my father’s men have hit on me over the years. Since I turned fifteen, they’ve asked me to go on dates, some even trying to kiss me on my sixteenth birthday. Most fathers would kill; mine only chuckled.

Granted, I did kick a couple of them in the crotch. Watching a man fall to his knees in agony brought me some sick satisfaction. I enjoyed it. Perhaps I’m more like my dad than I gave myself credit for.

When I think I’m ready to go downstairs, I pull my bedroom door closed and head to where the music filters from the living room. I can hear the faint whispering of the guests who have already arrived.

“Ally,” my cousin calls to me when I reach the entrance hall. Cassio is a few years older than me, and yet he acts like he’s still a teenager. At twenty-five, you’d think he would be more mature, but sadly, he hasn’t reached that level of adulthood yet.

“Hello, Cassio,” I greet him with a smile. As my father’s Underboss, he’s taken it upon himself to act like my guardian. I’m an only child, and since my father will not allow me to take over the clan, it was Cassio who was chosen as the golden boy.

“How is my little principessa?” He chuckles before pulling me in to kiss my left cheek, then my right. He’s usually over-the-top. But there’s an underlying violence to him that makes me shiver.

“I’m well, thank you,” I answer, keeping my voice monotone so he leaves me to talk to others. If I encourage him, I’ll only have him tailing me all night and I can’t deal with that right now.I’m still reeling from the thought that I’m supposed to marry some man in a couple of years.

“Lighten up,” he tells me. “It’s a party.” Thankfully, he’s dragged away by a couple of his friends. When boys try to be men, they fail miserably. I watch them laugh at something, drinks are being swallowed, and yet I can’t cheer up.

Moving through the guests, I smile and greet those who look my way. But I don’t feel happiness. It’s as if the emotion has taken a vacation and I’m left on the shore, waiting for it to reach me.

When I reach the patio, I smile because it’s the only area of the house that’s not as busy. Stepping out onto the cobblestones that pave their way through the lush green grass, I leave the noise behind me and make my way to the middle of the maze my father built when I was a child.

It was one of my favorite places to go. Deep laughs capture my attention, and I turn to see three young men, possibly Cassio’s age, all standing out on the grass. One of them is smoking, while the other two look on at the party inside.

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