Trapped

#Casa_del_Salvatore

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#Italy

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Emilio's POV

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Sunset was a perfect view from my window, especially with the palm trees framing it like some ethereal picture.

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I held a goblet of wine in one hand, while the other was folded across my chest.

I took a sip rolling it with my tongue to get the taste. Not very good. I didn't expect it to be, because the best wines were plucked by my own people, fermented on my own terms, branded under my own name and stored in my own cellar.

I peered into the cup, and gulped down the rest of the contents.

Italy was a pretty warm place during the day, and our casa (house) was no exception. But it tended to be a bit cold at night; though not as cold as my house in Sicily, Buona Fortuna. That was some sort of private reservation.

After setting the cup on the table beside the window, I took out a shirt from the wardrobe and wore it. I looked up at the clock above the bed.

Time for family dinner.

I sighed.

Family dinners were not experiences I looked forward to.

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#Dinner

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Portia Salvatore sat at the head of the table.

It was really funny how she kept trying to put herself in control of everything that went on in the house, or the business. Her eyes followed me as soon as I entered.

Ignoring the hateful look from Sergio, I went to her and leaned down to her ears.

"Portia, get off my chair."

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She flamed up immediately, her cold white face heating up rapidly as she whipped her head around so fast that I swear it snapped.

"Emilio!" she hissed. "I will not tolerate such attitude from you."

"And I will not tolerate you and Sergio trying to lord over this house, making stupid rules that has no ground base. It's high time you accept the fact that papà left everything under my name, and that there's nothing any of you can do about it."



"Cazzata (Bulls***)!" Sergio roared, pounding his fist on the table and standing up. "Leonetti left nothing to you. You weren't even around when he died. I was. And I'm the older one."

It might come strange; Sergio was my brother, my older brother to be precise, and it was when I returned home two years ago that Portia cleared everything up.

More like confused me the more.

I still didn't know why papà left him nothing substantial… perhaps he had a reason.

"The older one who didn't get a dime out of papà's will. Where were you. . .boozing?"

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He made a show of coming to hit me, but Portia's low, controlling voice stopped him.

"Enough of all these brawl," she said and stood up, her rings glittering in the light of the overhead chandelier, "The will was read, sì. But there were conditions to it."

She gave pointed looks to both me and Sergio, who was still fuming with anger.



"Now sit and let's talk it out. As a family."

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Sergio muttered something and sat back down, but I stood still , staring at her.

"Sedere (sit)," she said to me again, in a more commanding tone.

I scoffed.

"I know the conditions for the will, and I've talked it over with the mafia. Casa del Salvatore belongs to me, as well as the vineyards and the mafia. The only condition is to get married, right?" I smirked. "Then that's what I'm going to do."

I walked away.

"Emilio! Get back here!" she hissed, but I ignored her.

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I took out my phone and dialed Festus.

"Signore?"

"Get the car out. I'm going somewhere."

"Sì."

On my way out, Prudence stopped me.

"Emilio, dove ti andare ( Where are you going)?"

"Prudence I'll talk to you when I get back."

I kissed both her cheeks and got into the car.

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#The_Italian_Mafia

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"And why would you call for this emergency meeting? We know you run the mafia now, but we also know that you have no controlling power," Vittore spoke, joining the tip of his fingers together.

I nodded.

He continued, "Your father wanted to ensure that the continuity of the Mafia Dons were through his lineage, which is why he imputed the marriage condition."

"I know," I said, "Which is why I've called all of you. I've taken a decision. The donship will not go to Sergio. I'll be announcing my marriage next meeting."

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Vittore Savonelli pulled me aside after the adjournment.

He was a stocky man in his early forties, sporting a huge white beard that added to his scary look. He was also my father's loyal friend and right hand man.

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"Emilio, why the sudden rush?" he asked.

"Sergio," I replied simply, and he nodded in understanding, then patted my back.

"Just remember to run major decisions by me, OK? And I'm always here to help you."

"Sì. I will. Grazie."

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#New_York

#USA

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Anne's POV

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I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and watched as mom and dad cleaned their faces with the serviette. That was rude, but I have bigger problems.

"What do you mean 'getting married'?" I asked again. "For chrissakes I'm only eighteen. And I just got here. I'm supposed to. . .live with you, get to know each other. What the hell do you mean!?" I asked again. "Don't. . .don't you want me? Are you that desperate to give me away just after you've found me?"

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"Oh honey don't talk like that," mom said and reached out to place her hand over mine, but I pulled it away.

She sighed. "Anne… it was an agreement. It was endorsed since. . .well, we really needed to find you and we needed help so—"

"This is bulls***," I said, not regretting my use of vulgar words, "So you sold me so that you can find me? That doesn't make any sense."

"Please try to understand us. A deal's a deal, and—"

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"Who?" I cut in.

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"We don't really know, but he's a friend of ours. Very nice and kind."

They were both nodding enthusiastically, as if they were advertising a product.

I sighed.

I've always known my life wasn't meant to be a bed of roses.

No matter what, there had to be a hitch somewhere. But I hoped it would be different now.

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I felt the tears rolling down my cheeks as I pushed my plate away.

They we desperate, they really wanted to find me. I guess that I'd have done same if I was in their shoes.

"Fine," I whispered standing up. "When?"

"You're going to Italy tomorrow," dad supplied quietly. I could see he was distressed.

"Yippie," I said in a dry and unhappy manner.

"Guess I'll have an early sleep to prepare for my big day tomorrow." I faked a yawn. "Good night. And thanks a lot, parents."

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I forgot how hungry I was as I headed upstairs to my room and threw myself on the bed, and cried.

I've only known the joy of a real family for one day, and it was about to be snatched away from me.

Then I faced the ceiling, and began to wonder who my 'groom' was, or how he looked like.

It didn't matter. I was trapped.

Like I've always been.