She Married The Mafia Heir I Married The Next Don Chapter 05
What I’m Owed, Too
My father looks at me as though I’ve asked him to buy the city.
“Just as good?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have any idea what you’re asking?”
“I know what you gave Bianca.”
“That marriage has been discussed for years.”
“Then you’ve had years to practice.”
“Mara.”
My mother says it softly.
A warning.
My father doesn’t bother softening his voice.
“After the way you’ve behaved, you should be grateful if a respectable family will consider you.”
I keep my hands at my sides.
“What should I be grateful for, exactly?”
“You walk into rooms ready to fight. You insult people. You embarrass your mother.”
“Bianca knows how to behave. I know.”
“She does.”
“Nobody taught me.”
“We’re trying to teach you now.”
“And while I learn, I’m supposed to accept whatever you decide is good enough for me?”
He looks away.
I can see him trying to find the shortest way to end this conversation.
A few weeks ago, that would have made me shout.
Today, I wait.
“You can’t expect Alessandro Morello,” he says finally.
“Why not?”
My mother catches her breath.
“Mara.”
“He’s marrying a De Santis daughter, isn’t he?”
My father’s expression changes.
I see the moment he understands what I’m doing.
“If the name is what matters, I have it.”
“The engagement is settled.”
“So you keep saying.”
“Bianca is marrying Alessandro,” my mother says. “That isn’t going to change.”
I turn toward her.
“Then it would be a shame if I kept causing trouble.”
She goes still.
“Mara, don’t.”
“You’ve both told me how difficult I am. How embarrassing.”
I look back at my father.
“You wouldn’t want that following Bianca into the Morello family.”
For a moment, nobody speaks.
I can hear someone moving inside the house.
A door closing.
A normal afternoon continuing behind us.
My father studies me.
It’s the first time since I came home that I feel his full attention.
There’s no affection in it.
That’s all right.
Attention is something I can use.
“Are you threatening your sister’s marriage?”
“I’m asking you to take mine seriously.”
“You haven’t even been home a year.”
“Then you should be pleased I’m thinking about leaving.”
My mother’s face crumples.
I don’t look away.
I’m tired of being stopped by pain nobody worries about causing me.
My father presses two fingers against his forehead.
“Alessandro is not an option.”
“Then find someone else.”
“You don’t get to set the terms.”
“Bianca gets a house. A future. A family ready to stand behind her.”
“She didn’t demand those things.”
“No. You gave them to her.”
He lowers his hand.
I wait.
Finally, he says, “I’ll see who might be suitable.”
It isn’t a promise of a good marriage.
It isn’t even a promise that he’ll try very hard.
But he hasn’t told me to go home.
He hasn’t called the driver.
He’s considering where I can be placed.
For now, that is enough.
“Thank you.”
My mother looks almost more unsettled by my politeness than she was by the threat.
“Come in for a while,” she says. “We could have lunch.”
Through the doorway, I can see three places set at the table.
There’s room for another chair.
There always has been.
“No, thank you.”
I turn and walk back to the car.
The door closes behind me.
I don’t expect them to choose a husband for me with the care they gave Bianca.
I don’t expect my mother to lie awake wondering whether I’ll be happy.
But my father has finally understood something.
Leaving me angry and unattended may cost him more than giving me a future.
I sit in the back seat.
The driver asks whether we’re going home.
“Yes.”
For the first time, the word doesn’t feel like a plea.
If my marriage is going to be a deal, then I need to know what I’m worth.
And who might need what I have.