Forced To Wed The Mafia Heir

"I sank deeper into the comfy chaise lounge, loving the feel of the velvety cushions against my skin. The only sounds were the quiet rustle of pages and the tick-tock of the old grandfather clock in the corner. It was so peaceful in the library, almost like my own heartbeat.

The reading lamp next to me creates lengthy shadows across the dark wooden furniture, enveloping my younger sister Ava in a personal cocoon of light. The walls were lined in rows of unspoiled volumes with leather-bound spines glinting in the faint light. I'd always connected the musty smell of old paper and polished wood - which permeated the air - with safety and comfort.

Ava's head rested cozily on my lap; her eyes closed, and her breathing was regular. I looked down at her calm face and started to smile a little. Her long lashes created soft shadows on her cheeks, and some black hair strands had dropped across her forehead. Our home lacked these quiet times; hence, I valued every second.

Running my fingers lightly through Ava's silky hair, I thought to myself, "These moments of peace are priceless." The serenity of the library almost made me forget the demands and expectations that were constantly hanging over us.

Ava stirred slightly; her eyes fluttered, matching my deep brown color inherited from our mother. She mumbled sleepily, "Read to me?" Her voice was barely audible above a whisper.

I gently laughed, the sound hardly breaking the stillness around us. "Sure, pipsqueak. What do you want to hear?" I walked over to the side table, my fingertips gliding across the stack of books we had chosen earlier.

"Before Ava could respond, a gentle but firm tap sounded in the library. My hand, which had been still in Ava's hair, froze at the sound, and I tensed. That knock sent a shiver down my spine as if it were the first blast of frigid air before a storm."

I carefully moved out from under Ava, gently resting her head on a fluffy cushion. She muttered in protest but did not wake; she only curled up closer on the chaise. Suddenly, very conscious of every wrinkle and flaw, I stood, smoothing down my silk top and wool skirt. Breathing deeply to slow down my suddenly pounding heart, I attempted to get ready for whatever was about to happen.

Our mother emerged behind the gently creaking, massive oak door. Her face looked pale and drawn, which made the black circles beneath her eyes particularly striking. Not one strand was out of place; her salt-and-pepper hair was pushed back so tightly that it looked painful. Her blue suit looked to hang a little looser on her frame than it had the last time I had seen her wear it. She modified it.

"Your father wants to see you," she whispered in a low, stern voice that barely carried across the room.

My stomach sank like a lead weight had been placed there. Trying to figure out what this could be about, I searched my mind, attempting to remember anything I might have done recently that was wrong. Had my grades slipped? Had I neglected some important household responsibilities? Drawing a blank on everything only made me more anxious. Being summoned to my father's office in our household was never a good sign.

"Right now?" I asked in a voice barely above a whisper. I hated how small and fearful I sounded, but I couldn't help it.

Mother nodded, and she nodded, eyes away from mine. Her hands were twitching at her jacket's hem - an unusual display of anxiety from her. "In his office," she said unnecessarily.

I nodded and tried hard to swallow. I took one last look at Ava's sleeping figure and then trailed Mother out of the library. Our heels clicked loudly on the polished wooden floor in the quiet corridor. Family photos stacked on the walls showed the austere faces of long-dead ancestors observing our development. Every step of the trek to my father's office felt like a march to the gallows, bringing me closer to some unidentified catastrophe.

Mother paused just outside Father's massive oak office door. The polished brass handle gleamed, and the glossy black wood exuded an imposing presence. She continued, "He's waiting for you," then turned and left without another word, leaving me alone in the hallway.

I stood there for a while, gathering my courage. Looking into a nearby mirror, I saw a pale face, wide eyes, and dark hair cascading in loose curls over my shoulders. I felt nothing like the confident heiress I was supposed to be; I looked young and terrified. Determinedly straightening my shoulders, I tried to muster some of the expected grace.

Then, I knocked on the thick door, took a deep breath, and tried to calm my nerves.

"Come in," my father's authoritative voice echoed from inside, sending shivers down my spine even through the thick wood.

I opened the door and cringed at the little hinge creak, then entered. The father's office always seemed stifling with its dark wood paneling and heavy furniture. The big mahogany desk dominated the room, its surface painstakingly arranged. A crystal decanter, probably scotch, sat on a silver plate to one side.

My father, in his high-backed leather armchair, sat behind the desk. He cut a striking shape, his broad shoulders accentuating his well-crafted suit. His steel-grey eyes locked on me with an intensity that made me want to shrink back, and his salt-and-pepper hair was well-brushed.

"Sit," he urged, pointing to one of the leather chairs before his desk.

I sank into the suggested chair, moving forward on wobbly legs. The leather chilled against my skin, and I fought the urge to fidget. Rather, I folded my hands on my lap, attempting to seem cool even as my heart hammered.

Father watched me silently for a minute, his sharp eyes apparently looking straight ahead. I battled the desire to wriggle under his inspection.

"Finally," he began, his strong voice filling the room. "Kylie, we need to discuss something important."

I nodded, not trusting my voice to remain steady if I spoke. There was obvious tension in the room, weighing me down physically.

Leaning forward with his elbows resting on the desk, the father asked, "You are aware of our family's commercial interests, I assume?"

Once again, I nodded. I was aware, of course. Although we never discussed it explicitly, it was an open secret in our household. Generations of our family have been involved in organized crime. I chose to focus on my schoolwork and my hopes for a normal life; it was not something I enjoyed contemplating.

"Very well," Father said insistently. "You must understand the importance of alliances in our line of work."

I furrowed my brow in confusion. Why was he telling me this? Father never talked about business with us - the young ones, especially not with me.

His tone serious, he said, "The Syndicate and the Vipers are moving into our territory. We are at risk of losing everything we've built over the years." "Good," Father said on and on. "Then you should know the value of alliances in our line of work."

His voice solemn, he remarked, "The Syndicate and the Vipers are encroaching on our territory." "We run the danger of losing all we have created over decades."

At his words, a cold crawled down my spine. I understood these competing companies were hazardous and had heard rumors about them. But I would never have guessed they could endanger us this much.

"I... I don't understand," I replied, my voice almost above a whisper. "Why are you showing me this?"

Father's eyes sharpened. "Because you have a responsibility to help safeguard our family's future, Kylie."

My gut turned over with anxiety. I knew I wouldn't like whatever was coming.

"We have to put an end to our feud with the New York Familia and join forces," Father said, his tone matter-of-fact, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the fate of our family. "This is the only way we will survive this threat."

Still unsure about how this involved me, I nodded slowly. "Okay," I answered cautiously. "So, we are making peace with them?"

Father replied, "It's more than that." He paused, looking directly at me. "We are bringing our families together."

My heart has missed a beat. "What do you mean?" Still, a part of me knew and hated the response already.

Father said, his voice devoid of debate, "You will marry his oldest son, Lysander."

The words strike me as a physical blow. With my hands tightly holding the chair's armrests, I felt the blood drain from my face and my knuckles grow white. "What?" I gasped, hardly able to shape the word.

Father said, "You will marry Lysander Vincenzo," his tone unaltered. "The participation has already been set."

I became numb, cut off from my body. It can't be happening this way. It must be some kind of cruel joke. "Father," I said, my voice shaking. "Please don't force me to marry that man. I hardly know him at all."

Father continued, unimpressed by my argument. "I shook hands on it with his father. You will make a wonderful wife to Lysander. You owe this family this much."

I tried to hold back tears as I blinked rapidly. Crying wouldn't change anything. "What?" I managed to ask weakly.

"There will be an engagement party in August," Father said as if he were discussing a regular meal plan rather than the end of my freedom.

August? That was only two months away. My mind raced, trying to comprehend this sudden, drastic change in my life.

So, can I still continue going to classes? I desperately clung to any sense of normalcy.

The father nodded. "For now. You will complete your degree. The woman of the future should be well educated."

I nodded weakly, not really understanding his words. My ideas were a disorganized swirl. The hard reality of my circumstances now shatters the romantic illusions I once held.

As Father spoke, outlining the specifics of my new life, I felt myself withdrawing inside. The environment seemed to vanish around me, the weight of my doom pressing down on me until I could hardly breathe.

This was it. The imminent end of my life as I knew it. I would be engaged to a stranger, bound to a life I never desired, just two months from now. And there was nothing I could do about it.

One thought kept me going as I left Father's office on unsteady legs: How would I ever tell Ava?

You know that feeling when your stomach starts churning right before you're about to go on a rollercoaster? That's exactly how I felt outside Dad's study. I could barely even grab the doorknob because my hand was so sweaty. It was never a good sign to be called to the study, but this time? It felt different, like something was off.

I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. "It's okay, Kylie," I muttered to myself. "You probably forgot to do something minor; no big deal." I pushed the door open and walked in, trying to pep talk myself into feeling better.

"Man, was this room always this stuffy?" I quizzed, Dad's cigar made the place smell like a truck, and I swear the walls were closing in on me. Dad looked all broody and serious behind his desk. He motioned toward the chair across from him and said, "Sit down, Kylie."

As I perched on the edge of the seat, I felt like a little kid in the principal's office. "What's up, Dad?" I tried to sound casual, but I think I came off somewhere between squeaky and terrified.

He just stared at me for what seemed like forever. I started counting the ticks of the grandfather clock in the corner, wondering if he had forgotten how to talk or if I had gone momentarily deaf.

Finally, he delivered the bombshell. "The agreement is now in effect. You will be marrying Lysander Vincenzo."

It felt like some crazy dream; for a moment, I thought I had fallen asleep. I even pinched myself under the desk. "Ouch," I was not entirely sure if I was fully awake.

"Wait, what?" I exclaimed. "Is this some kind of joke, Dad? Because if it is, your timing is way off."

His expression told me that it wasn't a joke at all. "The deal is set. When you turn eighteen, you'll be marrying Lysander Vincenzo."

My mind went haywire. This can't be real. How can my life be over before it even begins? Arranged marriages in this day and age? Am I in some kind of period drama?

I stuttered, "But... but I don't know him." "I haven't even seen him! He could be a serial killer for all I know, or have some weird obsession with feet or something."

Dad raised his eyes at that last bit, and then he straightened himself fast. "That has nothing to do." This union will confirm our partnership with the Vincenzo family. Our future depends on it absolutely.

"Our future?" I repeated, my voice raising to a level dogs could hear. "What about my next? I do have some say in this. What if I wanted to work as a professional cheese taster or practically anything else or join the circus?"

"No," Dad answered, one syllable cutting off my aspirations for cheese-tasting. "This is final. This decision is."

Though I blinked fiercely, I felt tears prickling in my eyes. I wouldn't provide him with the gratification of seeing me wither. I also didn't want to look like a raccoon since I was sporting the mascara Ava had purchased me for my birthday. "Is there anything else I ought to know?" I asked, attempting to keep a calm voice. "Like, does he have any interests outside of ruining teenage girls' lives?"

Dad's demeanor softened a little, but his words remained stern. "Vincenzo focused especially on your background. One cannot negotiate an all-girls school."

I laughed, but it sounded like a choked hiccup. "So you sent me to St. Catherine's to prepare for this arranged marriage? Do you expect me to meet a guy before my wedding day? Do you think I'll turn into a wild, boy-crazy lunatic?"

"Dad's reaction was just okay, not great. The silence between us felt heavy and uncomfortable. I even half-expected tumbleweeds to come rolling through the room.

"At least for now, that's it," he said quietly, dismissing me with a wave of his hand as if I were some kind of servant. Smooth, Dad. Real smooth.

As I stood up, my legs felt like jelly. Just as I was about to grab the door handle, Dad's words stopped me in my tracks.

"Kylie," he continued, his voice faint now. "Though it's challenging, I know this is for the best. You'll grasp it someday."

I gave no thought to answering. I was supposed to say, "Thanks for wrecking my life, Dad. You are the greatest!" Rather, I booked it out of nowhere, as my butt seemed to be ablaze.

I raced for my room as soon as I left the study. Already tears were flowing, and I almost pushed poor Ava down the corridor.

kylie? Looking troubled, she asked, "What's wrong?"

I was mute. I just shook my head and pushed past her, staggered into my bedroom, and then slammed the door behind me. I dropped onto my bed and covered my face with a pillow to stifle my tears. Right now, this has to be a nightmare. I would wake up right now and chuckle over this bizarre dream.

Still, the minutes passed and I woke up nowhere. Actually, this was genuine. Right then, this was my life.

Her quiet knock on the door hardly registered through my pity party. "Kylie?" Ava spoke quietly. "Is there anything I could do? I had ice cream with me."

I answered, "Nothing," but a second later I felt the bed dip as Ava sat next to me. My favorite, the aroma of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream, permeated everything.

Ava remarked, caressing my back, "Whatever it is, it can't be that bad. Did you not pass a test? Get caught leaving without permission? Oh goodness, what are you expecting?"

That last one had me sit up and snort despite myself. "No, I have not become pregnant. God, Ava?"

Grinning, she handed me the pint of ice cream and a spoon. "That is a relief, then. What then best represents a human sprinkler system in your work?"

Before I spoke, I scooped a large dollop of ice cream and let the chilly sweetness melt on my tongue. "Dad has set up my marriage. Regarding Lysander Vincenzo."

Ava's spoon dropped to the floor. "Holy sh*t," she exhaled. I apologize, Kylie. That's... that's medieval."

"Tell me about it," I responded, scooping fresh vigor into the ice cream. "I sense myself in some bad YA novel."

"Maybe if you talk to him again, he might reconsider," Ava said. We both knew that was unlikely.

I gave my head a shake. "You know, Dad. That's it once he decides upon it. He is more tenacious than a donkey carrying resentment."

Ava bit her lip, then hesitated. "But what about Kylie?"

"It's done, Ava," I said, cutting her off like a damp blanket covering me with despair. "Dad and Lysander's father closed the bargain already. Presumably, spit in their hands and everything."

We passed the ice cream back and forth silently for a little while. At last, Ava raised her voice.

"Do you want to search him out? Lysander, specifically. See what sort of ogre you are divorcing?"

Part of me wanted to say no, to act as though this wasn't happening for just a bit more. But then curiosity prevailed. I nodded, and then Ava got my laptop from my desk.

I inhaled while we waited for the search results to load. The kind of man I was under pressure to marry? I imagined some balding, pot-bellied creeps with unibrows and back hair.

Ava's gasp indicated I was off target. Her eyes wide, "Holy mother of hotness," she said. "She is... he is..."

"AGreek god?" I offered and stooped to view the screen. And... fantastic, okay. Clearly, Lysander Vincenzo did not fit me. For one thing, he was huge - all broad shoulders and muscular strength. Dark hair; chiseled jaw; piercing eyes. I would most likely walk into a lamppost if I came upon him on the street.

Ava replied, glancing through, "Look at all these pictures. He is never with the same girl twice."

I yanked. "They would be welcome to him. I'm not interested in being some playboy arm candy; I don't care how hot he is."

"Girls are almost launching themselves at him!" Ava yelled and gestured at remarks on several social media sites. "Lysander, get married to me!" Geez, desperate much? Have my babies!"

I let my eyes roll back. "A good face doesn't alter the underlying nature. He might be a real jerk, for all we know."

The next hour, we searched Lysander Vincenzo for all we could find. My heart fell further with every fresh bit of knowledge. He was hazardous, not only some wealthy playboy. The sort of man people murmured about, terrified.

I replied suddenly, closing the laptop, "I need some air. Let us walk to the kitchen. Perhaps Chaol's narrative will help us divert ourselves. Alternatively, you know, show me how to vanish and start again in Bora Bora."

Ava nodded, trailing me out of the room. Chaol, our most reliable soldier, was sharpening a knife at the counter as we walked into the kitchen. Apparently, that's what passes for a typical evening pastime in this house.

"Evening, ladies," he said, nodding at us. "Miss Kylie, you seem somewhat peaky. Everything fine?"

I looked at Ava, then answered. "Oh, your Tuesday is quite normal. Dad planned my marriage to a man who seemed to have breakfast by eating nails. Not really important."

Chaol's palm stopped on the knife. "Ah," he remarked, his voice precisely neutral. "Lysander Vincenzo, I guess?"

"The one and only," I said. "What about him? Can you tell me? And please do not sugarcoat it. I told enough lies today. One day."

Chaol started honing the knife, the repetitive sound filling the kitchen. "Lysander was made into what he is by the time he was eleven," he stated casually as if talking about the weather rather than the terrible upbringing of my future spouse.

Ava gasped right next to me. "He's ruthless," she said in a whisper.

Chaol nodded. "Being delicate won't help you thrive in New York. Out there is a forest; Lysander? His ranking as a predator is the highest."

I inhaled strongly. "What precisely happened? Did he, like, thwart a gang of wicked squirrels in Central Park or something?"

Chaol's eyes locked with mine, and for a second, I saw a flutter of emotion - perhaps pity - before his expression smoothed out. "I am not privy to all the particulars. New York presents a distinct reality. Let us add that nevertheless, Lysander discovered early on that it was kill or be killed. In general terms."

A cold slid down my spine. "And who is going to guard me against him?" I asked, disgusted by the smallness of my voice. "You yourself? Father? The Avengers?"

Chaol laid down the knife, his face solemn. "I wish I knew a better response for you, Miss Kylie. But in that world, you either die or learn to defend yourself. Though that's the way it is, it's not fair."

That evening, as I lay in bed, sleep escaping me, Chaol's comments kept returning to me. "Learn to defend yourself; otherwise, you die." Counting the glow-in-the-dark stars I had set up there when I was twelve, I gazed up at the ceiling. Now, they appeared juvenile, a throwback to a life I was losing.

I had always understood that the environment my family lived in was strange and hazardous in ways most people could not imagine. But my father's fame and influence had shielded me from the worst of it. My main concerns had been either whether Jake from my art class liked me back or whether my math test went perfectly.

I was being tossed to the wolves right now. More precisely, to one particular wolf called Lysander Vincenzo. A wolf with a lethal smile and a reputation that made formerly hardened criminals wet their feet.

Twice a day. Just two meager days till my presence formally runs down the toilet. Like a gloomy cloud hovering over me, the engagement party loomed large and I couldn't get rid of the sense of approaching disaster. Who, at eighteen, has an engagement party? For loud screaming out, this was not the 1800s.

Sitting on my bed, I watched the pale pink frock hanging on my closet door. Mom had picked it out naturally. Heaven forbid I show up for my own engagement party sporting something I truly like. I moaned and flopped back onto my cushions. Perhaps if I desired really hard, this would all simply vanish.

"kylie! Kylie! Join me at my pity party." The sound of small feet stomping down the hall burst through. My door opened to show my younger brother, Kael, his dark hair standing in every direction and his eyes glittering with mischief.

"I want to play!" he declared, throwing himself into my bed with the elegance of a young elephant.

I started to grin and ruffle his hair. "I'm sorry, squirt. Mom wants the party perfect. Not sure we should mess it up?"

Kael's face wrinkled in a pout that fit any puppy and would be embarrassing. But that's dull, he groaned. "Why must you have a stupid party anyway?"

I tried to keep my speech light but swallowed hard. "Kael, it's just something grownups do occasionally. Not much of a deal here."

He turned his head to watch me with that shockingly insightful look that young children seem to possess. "Are you crying again?" he said suddenly. "Rosy has said it since Lysander bought you."

I thought of myself as having been gut-pounded. Let the housekeepers share stories close to a six-year-old's hearing range. "No, Kael." I forced a smile and responded. "He did not buy me. That is not the way it works."

"Might as well have," Ava said in a dry voice from the doorway. Father essentially turned you over.

I gave her a warning glance. "Ava, keep it down," I hissed. "What if Father heard?"

Rolling her eyes, she entered the room, closing the door behind her. "Please. He's too busy kissing up to the Vincenzos to give any thought to what we're saying."

I sighed and dragged Kael across my lap. "Ava, it's not quite that straightforward. You are aware of."

She caught herself, staring at Kael, "Yeah, yeah, family alliances and all that bull, all that nonsense still does not make it right."

"Right or not, it's happening," I muttered, the weight of those words falling over me like a lead blanket. "In two days, I'll be engaged to Lysander Vincenzo and that's that."

Kael wriggled in my lap, obviously bored with the grown-up lecture. Looking up at me with those great brown eyes, he requested, "Can we play hide and seek?"

I stopped, staring at the mountain of party preparation still ahead. Ava grinned and scooped Kael up, sensing my delay.

She said, already halfway out the door, "The last one in the garden is a rotten egg!"

"Hello, no fair!" I laughed and scrambled after them.

We ran across the house, avoiding maids and turning away the disgusted eyes of the party organizers. For a little while, liberated from the weight of planned marriages and family expectations, I felt like a young child again.

My heart jumped into my throat as we tore into the garden, and I skidded to a halt. Standing next to the rosebushes, there was a man I had only seen in photos. Tall, black, and just frightening as heck.

Lysander Vincento!

"Ava," I said quickly, reaching for her arm. "That's Lysander Vincenzo!"

Her eyes grew wide. She corrected, looking at Kael, "Holy sh - shiitake mushrooms. What's he doing here?"

Kael broke free from Ava's hold and marched straight up to Lysander before I could reply. Oh, god, no.

"You can't take Kylie!" He yelled, his small face set in intense will. She's not yours!

I sensed all the blood leaving my face. Frozen in place, Father is in great trouble if he finds us running around.

Lysander surprised me by kneeling at Kael's level, his face blank. His voice deep and silky, he asked, "Is that so?"

Kael nodded forcefully. "She's my sister. She is not something you can gain."

A shadow of a smile flashed over Lysander's face. "I notice. And you must be Kael, right?"

Kael's eyes became wide with amazement. "How do you know?"

Lysander remarked, rising, "I make it my business to know things." His eyes fixed on mine, and I shivered along my spine. "Kylie here. At last, meeting you personally is great."

I tried to keep my voice steady by hard-swallowing. "Mr. Vincenzó. We didn't expect you until the celebration."

He wrinkled his eyebrows. "Exactly, and please refer to me as Lysander. After all, we will be married."

His laid-back approach, as if he were commenting on the temperature, made my gut turn over. I started to answer when another voice interrupted.

"Quite the introduction," greeted a man I hadn't seen before, beaming broadly. Though he shared the same dark hair, his approachability surpassed Lysander's. He appeared younger. "This seems to be fascinating."

Lysander's face remained the same, yet something in his eyes hardened just slightly. "Kylie, this is my brother Dorian."

Dorian reached out, extending his hand, "It's a pleasure to meet you, Kylie. Not mind the lovely demeanor of my brother. He was born without any sense of humor."

I shook his hand, a little disoriented. "Nice to meet you too."

The gathering fell silent in embarrassing fashion. Apparently bored with the adult conversation once more, Kael pulled on my hand. "Kylie, could we maybe play now?"

"I... I should go check on Kael," I muttered, grabbing at the getaway from guilt. "It was good seeing you both."

Lysander's voice stopped me as I turned to get out, "Your family is protective."

I stopped and turned slowly back. "I'm sorry about Kael and Ava," I said tensely. "They are just..."

Lysander put up a hand to shut me off, "... protective of you. I understand you." His eyes locked with mine, as though he could see straight through me. "That's excellent. You will need that in New York."

With that enigmatic comment, he turned and left; Dorian trailed behind him with a guilty shrug in my direction.

I let out a breath I hadn't been conscious of. Ava remarked, moving up next to me, "Well. That was..."

"A disaster?" I said.

She gave her head a shake. Though I was going to add "intense," disaster works too.

I gathered Kael, who had been seriously silent. "Are you OK, friend?"

He nodded and circled my neck with his arms. He said, "I don't like him," softly. "He looks scary."

That's not anything I could dispute. In many respects, Lysander Vincenzo was clearly terrifying. And in two days, I would be engaged to him.

The remainder of the day was a blur of last-minute getting-ready and tense excitement. I was tired but too hooked to sleep by eveningfall. Seeking some calm in the still night air, I found myself meandering out to the garden.

Sitting on a bench close to the rosebushes, I kept going back in my head over the meeting with Lysander. He was cold and frightening, obviously accustomed to having his own way. But there had been times when his conversation with Kael had shown a flutter of a smile.

Furious with myself, I shook my head. It would make no difference if he experienced fleeting humanity. It was still an arranged marriage, and this was still a cage I was being forced into.

"I cannot sleep!"

Dorian's voice almost caused me to leap from my skin. Rising from the darkness, hands lowered in apologies. "I apologize; I didn't mean to scare you."

"It's fine," I responded, my heart still pounding. "What are you doing out here?"

Shrugging, he sat down next to me. "Same as you, I would guess. Seeking to clear my head."

For a moment, we sat silently, the only sound being the soft rustle of leaves in the evening breeze.

"You know, he's not as horrible as he seems," Dorian replied abruptly.

I looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "Lysander?"

Nodding, he says, "I understand he comes across as quite dreadful. Nevertheless, he is more than that."

"Why are you telling me this?" I enquired, really curious.

Dorian grumbled and ran a hand over his hair. "Because I have seen personally what well-planned marriages can accomplish for individuals. How can they ruin lives without knowledge or attempt to make things work?

My throat started to develop lumps. "And you think understanding Lysander will make this work?"

"I consider it to be a start," he remarked gently. "Look, I'm not advocating that you adore him. Perhaps, though, try to look below the frightening façade. He is the way he is for a good cause."

I wanted to argue and tell him that nothing could make this position good. But I halted at something in his face. He seemed concerned. For myself as much as for Lysander.

"I'll try," I discovered myself saying. "But I am unable to guarantee anything."

Dorian grinned and got to his feet. "That is all someone can ask. Good night, Kylie!"

I sat there for a long time, lost in contemplation, as he left. Still causing me anxiety, the engagement celebration loomed large. But now, buried within the fury and anxiety, was a small flame of inquiry.

Lysander Vincenzo was really someone else. More significantly, though, who would I have to become to live in his world?

Those questions whirled in my head as I at last turned back to my room. The countdown until the engagement party kept on, but suddenly it seemed more than just a deadline.

It felt as though it was the start of something. Something frightening, something unknown, but if I wanted to survive, I would have to squarely face it.

Twice a day. Two days still till everything changed. I only hoped I was ready for whatever followed.

***********

I gazed at the girl in the mirror, barely recognizing her. The dress, a deep burgundy that appeared almost black in the dim light of my bedroom, clung to my body like a second skin. It revealed curves I never knew I had, and the sweetheart neckline plunged lower than anything I had ever worn.

"Stop fidgeting, Kylie," Olive, my mother, said behind me. Trying in vain to make my dress longer, she pulled at its hem. "You look amazing."

She caught my eye in the mirror. I blurted out, "Mom, I look like I'm playing dress-up," immediately regretting my candor as I watched her face fall.

She sighed and stroked an imaginary wrinkle out of the cloth. "Honey, I understand this is difficult. You must realize, though, that this is the way our world operates. Your manner of presenting yourself counts."

"But why must it be like this?" I asked, hating my whiny voice. "I am just fifteen years old. Shouldn't I be thinking about math or something else?"

Mom's mouth closed tightly in a thin line. "Kylie, we have discussed this several times. The choice your father has made will benefit our family as a whole. The least you can do is look the part."

Knowing it would not help, I bit back a response and forced a smile more like a grimace. "You're correct. I am sorry."

She nodded, seeming content. "Good lass. Remember to stand upright. You represent Santos. Behave as though it were natural."

I leaned against the vanity as she left the room, feeling overwhelmed. In less than an hour, I would be meeting my future husband for the first time. I had never seen him before.

I was startled by a gentle knock on my door. "Come in," I said, quickly wiping away a stray tear.

My little sister, Ava, poked her head in and gasped at my appearance. "Oh, Kylie. You look... different."

Though it sounded more like a sob, I chuckled. "Yeah, that's one way to put it."

Ava entered the room and closed the door behind her. She was still all legs and freckles at thirteen, and her sundress contrasted with my more mature outfit. Sitting on the edge of my bed, she asked, "Are you okay?"

I shook my head, unsure if I could talk.

"This sucks," Ava said, her directness making me smile despite the gloom. "You shouldn't have to marry some old creep you've never met."

"Ava!" I growled, peering anxiously at the door. "Don't let Mom or Dad hear you talking like that."

She rolled her eyes. "What are they going to do? Marry me off too?"

The idea chilled me to the bone. More sternly than I intended, I said, "Don't even joke about that."

Ava's expression softened. "I apologize. I hate this right now. It's not fair."

Sitting down next to her, I sighed. "I understand. This is our life, Ava. We don't get to choose."

"We could run away," she said, a glint of enthusiasm in her eyes. "Just pack a bag and leave. Maybe we could be in California by morning!"

I allowed myself to imagine it for a moment. Freedom, adventure, a life of our own making. But soon, reality took over. "And then what?" I asked softly. "We have no money or skills. We wouldn't last a week."

Ava deflated, the spark gone from her eyes. She whispered, "I guess you're right."

I gently squeezed her hand and said, "Hey, it will be alright. I'm tough, remember? I'm qualified to handle this."

She nodded, but I could tell she didn't entirely agree with me. Honestly, I couldn't believe it myself.

We were both startled at a quick rap on the door. "Kylie," my father's voice echoed through the forest. "It's time."

Standing up, I straightened my outfit. "Do I look okay?" Trying to lighten the mood, I asked Ava.

She gave me a sad smile. "Like a princess about to be fed to a dragon."

I laughed, surprised at how accurate that felt. "Well, let's hope this dragon never bites."

The sound of my heels on the marble floor echoed ominously as I walked down the hallway. Each step felt like I was approaching my own disaster. The house suddenly felt large and suffocating, its ornate decorations taunting me with their timeless beauty.

I stopped outside the lounge, inhaling deeply. Inside, I could hear men laughing and speaking. I briefly thought of running down the hall and out the front door, never turning around. But where would I go? Whether or not I liked it, this was my universe.

I inhaled once more and opened the door.

The internal dialogue died right away. Every eye in the room turned to me, and under their scrutiny, my cheeks burned. I quickly scanned the faces, recognizing most of them. Salvatore, my father, was standing near the fireplace holding a glass of Scotch. Tony, my cousin, lounged in an armchair and kept staring in a direction that made my skin crawl.

And there stood Lysander Vincenzo in the corner, my fiancé. The word felt improper, even in my brain.

He didn't match what I had anticipated. Younger, first of all. I had pictured some middle-aged man with a potbelly and experiencing balding. But Lysander seemed to be in his mid-twenties, tall and slim, dark-haired, and with sharp gray eyes.

"Ah, here she is," my father said loudly across the hall. His hand dropped on my back and led me forward into the lion's lair. "Gentlemen, may I present my daughter, Kylie?"

Trying to capture the grace and poise my mother was constantly exhibiting, I forced a grin. "It's nice to meet you all," I answered, glad my voice sounded so steady.

Tony arrived first; his smile was just slightly too broad. "Well, well, cousin. Do you not clean up nicely?" He leaned forward, his breath burning right in my ear. "If I'd known you were hiding all that under those school uniforms, I might have offered myself."

I drew back, my gut churning with loathing. I stammered, pulling away from Tony, "That's... kind of you to say."

I turned to see someone laughing low across the room. Lysander was observing the exchange while spotting an unbelievable facial expression. Our eyes locked, and he arched an eyebrow as though challenging me.

I lifted my chin, refusing to be intimidated. If this was going to define my life, I would confront it head-on.

Lysander glided across the room with a graceful movement that resembled a predator and pushed himself away from the wall where he had been leaning. He stopped just close enough for me to tilt my head back and meet his eyes.

"Kylie," he whispered, his voice soft and deep. "It's good to finally meet you."

I tried not to tremble, swallowing hard. "Likewise, Mr. Vincenzo."

The corner of his mouth twitched as if he were holding back a smile. "Lysander, please. We are to be married, after all."

His casual tone, as if he were commenting on the weather, made my stomach churn. Nevertheless, I nodded and managed a smile. "Lysander, then."

He gazed at me for a moment, his eyes so intense that I felt like he could see right through me. Then, without warning, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black box.

As soon as I saw it, my heart started racing. It was true. At fifteen, I was getting engaged to a man I had just met.

Lysander commented, opening the box to reveal a diamond ring most likely worth more than most people's houses, "I believe this is customary."

I couldn't move; I just stared at the ring. The room fell silent as everyone bore witness to this dream becoming reality.

"Thank you," I said, pushing myself to reach out and take the box. Our fingers brushed for a moment, and I frozen at the touch. Lysander didn't react if he noticed.

Instead, he took the ring from the box and held out his hand impatiently. A moment later, I realized what he wanted. I placed my left hand in his with trembling fingers.

His hands felt surprisingly warm as he slid the ring onto my finger. I had expected them to be cold. The ring settled in place, unfamiliar and weighty.

"A perfect fit," Lysander said, his thumb gliding over my knuckles in a way that made my spine tingle.

I raised my head to study his expression, but his face revealed nothing. It was a mask.

A maid shattering the trance said, "Dinner is served," from the doorway.

I kept glancing at the ring now on my left hand as we headed to the dining room. It felt like a shackle, tethered to a future I never asked for.

The remainder of the evening passed in a haze of awkward speech and meaningful looks. While the men around me casually discussed business transactions and territory disputes as if they were talking about the weather, I picked at my food, too anxious to eat.

I let myself collapse only much later, when I was at last alone in my room. As I lay on my bed still wearing the clothes that made me feel like a stranger in my own skin, tears flowed down my face.

I hurriedly wiped my eyes when someone gently knocked on my door. "Come in," I said, hoping my voice sounded as steady as I felt.

To my amazement, my little brother Kael peeped around the door. Six years old, he remained innocent to the darker sides of our family's life.

With a small, doubtful voice, "Kylie?" he asked. "Are you alright? I heard you crying."

At his compassion, my heart melted. I said, "I'm fine, buddy," patting the bed next to me. "Just a bit overwhelmed."

He crawled up next to me; his Batman pajamas stood out against my elegant gown. "Is it because of that man who gave you the ring?"

I hesitated, not knowing how to explain the matter to a six-year-old. "Sort of," I finally replied. "It's complicated grown-up material."

Kael nodded sagely, as though he understood exactly. Then he abruptly flung his arms around me in a tight hug. His voice muffled against my shoulder. "Don't worry, Kylie," he said. "If he's nasty, I'll protect you from him."

Tears threatening once more for a very different reason, I hugged him back. "Thanks, Kael," I whispered. "You know that you are the best little brother ever?"

I silently made a vow as I held him. Whatever happened with Lysander, whatever the challenge, I would protect Kael and Ava from this life. Their worth exceeded that of pawns in our family's games.

And perhaps, just perhaps, I could figure out how to protect myself as well.