Page 13 of Claimed
Mom. . .did you hear that? Maximo is proud.
My eyes watered, but I refused to let myself cry.
He came over and handed me the bouquet of red roses. “Again. . .brava, my little Bella.”
Blushing, I took the bouquet, and the flowers rustled in my hands.
“This is beautiful.” I looked down at them. The petals were velvety soft, with delicate folds and curls that brushed against my fingers.
It was odd to think, but the roses looked like huge drops of blood. Deep red and liquidy. It was a bouquet that seemed to have been plucked from someone’s heart. The thorns jutted out like miniature weapons.
A black silky ribbon tied the stems together, adding an elegant touch.
The intoxicating perfumed scent of the roses filled the space.
Okay. This isn’t a bad visit.
My nerves calmed.
I was worried for nothing.
My voice cracked with emotion. “Thank you, Father.”
For a moment, we fell into silence.
The tension in the room grew thick, like a live wire ready to snap at any moment.
I turned to Vito who hadn’t said anything else since putting his knife away.
It was odd, but I kind of wished he talked more. His silence was more intimidating for some reason, making me feel like prey, as though at any moment he would pounce and tear me to shreds.
I returned my gaze to my stepfather. “Well. . .”
I took the bouquet of roses over to the empty vase at my vanity table, noting how close it was to Vito.
“So. . .” I began with feigned confidence, forcing myself not to stumble over my own words, “I'm glad you enjoyed the show. But I have not finished the performance, the next act is coming. I have to change.”
My stepfather cleared his throat and stood straighter, adjusting the cufflinks as he spoke, “Actually. . .”
I placed the bouquet in the vase and looked at him. “Yes?”
“Actually, you need to leave with us,” my stepfather stated flatly, and his tone declared that there should not be any argument about it.
However, I hadn’t been around him in over eight years, and I was now twenty-two years old.
I would not be told what to do anymore. “I’m sorry, but I can give you my cellphone number so you can call and then we could arrange a time to meet for maybe. . .dinner or something.”
Vito snickered.
I blinked.
“Bella. . .” My father’s face hardened, and his voice came out chillingly calm. “It's time to pay up for all thefamilyhas given you.”
What?
Chapter three
Blood and Duty
