Page 19 of Claimed By The Mafia Prince
“Pregnant,” Papa repeats, his voice deadly calm. “Then you have signed your own fate, Melissa. You will have this baby far from here. Away from him and this life.”
“No.” I bark, tears stinging my eyes as I shake my head vehemently. “Xander will protect us.”
Papa leans forward, disappointment crowding his features. “Melissa, I thought you wanted more in life. You were studying economics at Stanford. I donated money to Stanford in your mother’s name, and made sure you had every opportunity to succeed, and you throw it back in my face."
My heart sinks and I can’t stand to look at Papa any longer. I let Mamma down, she wanted so much more for Gianna and me. Mamma had Papa promise he would let us explore our talents before any family obligations were brought on us. But now that I’ve met Xander, I want him...and so much more.
“Papa, I can still accomplish all that at the University of Chicago. I can be with Xander and pursue my dreams.”
His eyes narrow in on me. “Your safety comes first, Melissa. You will stay away from him. Xander is about to be head of the Amory family; he will not be able to complete his duties and take care of you.”
Tears fall from my eyes as I whisper, “No I don’t believe you.”
Papa rises as he rounds the table. “Cara figlia.” His voice softens as he retorts to the endearing name he calls me in Italian and takes my hand in his. “I hate the Amorys and want to destroy him. Since I love you more, you have to do as I ask.”
“Dad, please…” I start to plead but he cuts me off.
“What happens if someone thinks Xander is not fit to run the family, huh? When he is weak, they will kill him, and nothing is weaker than a man freshly in love with a baby on the way.”
“No, Xander will keep us safe.”
“And who will keep Xander safe, Mel?” Daniel whispers, and I look at him, my bottom lip trembling and my vision blurry with tears.
“You cannot have this baby here, love or not,” my father whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.
“It is your job to do what is best for your baby, but it is my job to do what is best for you, Melissa.” I fall into my father’s arms, and he smooths down my hair as he whispers to me, “This is what is best for the both of you.”
9
XANDER
I have been avoiding Father for weeks now.
He is allowing me to do so too, letting me stew in my feelings, only sending me to do light grunt work. Daniel hasn’t tried to kill me, so I guess that’s great, and my father has not mentioned Melissa, meaning he doesn’t know about us, which is also great news.
Melissa has only contacted me twice: first to tell me her family didn’t kill her and second to ask to see me. I haven’t responded to either text, but it’s all I can think about as I wait patiently for my father to finish a conversation with his right-hand man, Lorenzo, in hush whispers in the hallway, of the small house where the Amory family has all its meetings.
Moments later Father enters, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt with a grunt as he throws himself into the chair behind his mahogany desk. He looks worse than before. His skin looks paper thin and gray, with large bags gathering under his eyes as if he hasn’t slept in centuries.
“Father, are you—?” he raises his hand cutting me off. I pause, taking a deep breath, falling back into my chair. Father’s tired eyes flick up to mine, and a glimmer of weakness passes over his face before he schools his expression into a mask of indifference.
“Are you done pouting?” He turns in his chair, pouring a shot of whiskey into two chilled cups before sliding a cup across the desk to me.
“I wasn’t pouting,” I respond while taking a small sip of the whiskey.
“Killing does something to your soul. It takes something from you.” My father downs the shot of whiskey, grimacing at the burn. “And now that you’ve mourned that part of yourself, you can become more.”
I look at the brown liquid swimming in my glass, a vision of the blood dripping out of that man’s forehead flashes before my eyes and I close my eyes tightly, trying to rid myself of the memory. “After your first murder, did you ever feel like yourself again?”
My father avoids my eyes, looking into the distance before shaking his head slowly. “No, the man I am now would have scared the man I was before.”
I absorb his words as a shiver runs down my spine and I swallow my fear with the rest of the shot of whiskey I throw down my throat. The fire trails down my throat, and I embrace the flames. Father leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers together as he studies me intently.
“You have a choice now, son. You can let this consume you, or you can embrace the pit in your chest and become who you are meant to be.”
I nod slowly, a humorless laugh escaping my lips; who I am meant to be, is a murderer.
I never knew that was who I was meant to be, and the thought makes me feel like I am drowning in blood. The darkness inside me claws my throat raw, but I push it down by mustering the last of the strength I have to look into my Father’s eyes.