Enthralled (The Enslaved Duet 1)

“You are the most beautiful girl in Italy.”

I wasn’t supposed to roll my eyes, but growing up with beauty, I got away with more than most girls, and a lifetime of favour had taught me bad habits. I was lucky that Nico only smiled in response.

“I’ve heard that one before, Nicci.”

He shrugged his hulking shoulders. “Doesn’t make it less true.”

“No,” I agreed and collected my rippling mass of waves into my fists. “You know, one day I am going to cut it all off.”

He shook his head, and I wondered if he knew I wouldn’t, that it was my security blanket, that I slept with it draped over my arm like a child with a stuffed rabbit.

Instead, he said, “It wouldn’t make a difference.”

I looked across the street at the yellow grass and glaringly bright yellow house under the yellow sun. Yellow was my least favourite colour, and sometimes it seemed that Napoli was soaked in it. Not burnished in gold but drenched in something hotter, a shade with a stench, like urine.

“What are they talking about today? More debts?”

Nico was slow to shake his head, but then again, Nico was slow to most things. His stature made him the perfect thug, but the goodness in his heart and the methodical pace of his thoughts made him a less-than-ideal villain.

I sighed. “I don’t understand why they don’t just kill him.”

Usually, he ignored me when I spoke with a mouthful of vinegar, but he continued to shake his head. “No, they have another plan, Cosi. And it involves you.”

Immediately, I understood I was dead. Maybe not literally, but from the second Nico enunciated those words, I knew that my life was no longer my own. We had expected this, of course. Seamus could only play so many hands of cards before the only thing left was me, his trump. We all knew it—my twin brother, my sisters, Mama—but no one would talk to me about it, not even when I pressed.

And now that day was here, and I was alone on the steps with a man I hardly knew. It pretty neatly foreshadowed my fate.

“Tell me.”

He hesitated. “They will.”

I swung my knees around, knocking his thigh so I could look him in the eyes. He was startled when I took one of his huge hands in mine. “I’m asking you.”

“Things are changing. Salvatore’s new consigliere is ruthless and very smart. There is talk of him taking over the New York City outfit if his plans for Napoli work out.” Nico spoke of the handsome mafia boss whose specialty was transporting weapons and bribing politicians. “Rocco is getting nervous about his position with the capo. He needs more money. It’s time for those with debt to pay with money or…” His shrug was eloquent as the unspoken words or whatever else of value they had, even if it was their life hung in the air.

“And I’m the most valuable thing Seamus Moore has,” I whispered, almost afraid to say it out loud.

It was late August, and the air was thick with warmth, but a shiver bit into my spine with tiny, pointed teeth and shook me until my bones rattled.

Nico nodded and then gave me the silence I needed.

“I offered to marry you.”

I laughed. It was such a sweet, foolish sentiment especially from someone who knew better that I couldn’t help the laughter that burst from the compression chamber of my lungs.

He wasn’t offended. “We would have been good together. Pretty babies.”

“Yes,” I patted his broad knee but didn’t allow myself to see that future. “Pretty babies. Instead, what, I am to be married to some mafia boss?”

“Not quite. Salvatore’s consigliere has found someone who wants to…” He cleared his throat and looked down at my hand on his knee. He brushed a thick knuckle down my wrist and sighed. “He has found someone who wants to buy you.”

My mouth opened to laugh, I think, but only hot air escaped, fleeing as my lungs collapsed.

“You are very beautiful, Cosima, a virgin and a good girl, despite your independent streak,” he tried to explain, his voice heavy and low as if the weight of his tone would subdue me. “You cannot be so surprised.”

“Sleep with me then.” I knew he would never, not like this. Not even the most beautiful girl in Italy was worth dying over. “I’ll run away.”

“You won’t.” Rocco emerged from the small house, wiping his scarlet-dipped fingers on a scrap of grey linen that I was almost sure he had ripped from one of Mama’s curtains.

I shot to my feet, but he froze me in place with those horrible eyes.

“You won’t, beautiful girl, because if you do, your father…” Seamus appeared in the room behind him, and even in the low light, I could see the blood dripping from his hands, streaming like tears across his face from an open gash in his forehead. “…and your mother, your brother, and your sisters, they will all die. I will string them up from that tree.” He pointed at a massive Cyprus tree, the only spot of pretty on the narrow block. “With bells tied to their ankles so that their bodies sing when the wind comes. Would you be so selfish, beautiful girl?”