ChapterTwenty-Five
Alex
After leaving Tomas—reluctantly, I might add—with Adelaide after a refreshing nap, I go home to discover a security detail for the Somerville family hanging around the circular driveway. Wandering past them produces nothing but a few curious stares. I roll my eyes as I wander inside, hearing my mother’s voice carry from the rear den just down the hall from my father’s office.
Osmond’s voice follows with a hearty chuckle. “That’s a generous offer, Ophelia.”
Great, what are they doing now?
With my father out of the picture, my mother had to pick up the brunt of the business with Amos, her wit and intelligence putting them back on the market with criminals and the other mob families. I can only imagine what kind of deal they are making right now.
“It would come with a generous allowance, I’m sure,” my mother responds. I hear the familiar sounds of liquid sloshing into expensive glasses. I pad down the hall, making sure my footsteps are light. “Considering my daughter’s virginity is still intact.”
“A rare flower indeed.”
I cringe as I approach the open doors to the den.
“She hasn’t done anything as far as I know,” my mother says. “And we can always make sure before she’s married officially to your son.”
“I’m so glad you called. When I heard she was spending time with that…freaky kid, I was worried.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry much longer.” She sips loudly. “So, how much can you offer? This is a big deal, you know. Not a lot of girls her age still have their honor.”
My blood is boiling by the time I step into the den. Mother greets me with a razor-sharp gaze, pinning me in place with eyes that dare me to oppose her newest plan. She’s always scheming behind my back without even trying to consider what I want.
“I thought I had the choice here,” I spit. My eyes cut to Osmond, who rises from his seat, swirling brandy in a crystal glass. “I didn’t say I chose your son.”
“Quite feisty, Ophelia,” he comments with a dangerous smirk. “Alexandra, come here and meet me like a family member. Consider me your new father-in-law.” He closes the space between us and attempts to plant a kiss on my cheek. My disgusted recoil causes him to laugh. “What a shy little girl. I’m sure Parker will be pleased.”
My mother hums curiously. “Though she may need some guidance, if you understand.”
“I understand perfectly.” His hot gaze slides down my body, causing nausea to roll in my gut. “But we can talk about all that later, can’t we, Ophelia?”
“Certainly,” Mother agrees while standing elegantly. “Let me see you to the door. I can’t miss my next appointment.”
Hearing them chat like old friends all the way to the door makes me sick. I catch a whiff of the brandy that Osmond left on the table next to the couch and turn my nose up away from it, recalling just what Tomas said to me a couple of hours ago.
I won’t become Marie. Not if I can fucking help it.
Crossing my arms makes me feel safer. I slip into the kitchen, choosing the pantry as my place to hide while my mother finishes her “meeting” with Osmond.
How can she sell me out like that? My eyes roll to the ceiling. The same way my father could sell me out to four different families while he screwed his way through Macedon. Maybe I never knew him at all.
One of the cooks opens the pantry door and gasps, taking a respectful step back while bowing her head. “My apologies, ma’am.”
“None taken,” I assure her while swiping a pack of cookies from the shelf. “Just wanted a snack.”
“Of course. Take what you like, Ms. Moretti.”
The way my last name smacks my ears makes me dizzy. Maybe getting married isn’t such a bad idea if it means leaving my last name—and all that comes with it—behind in this shitty place. I give the cook a gentle grin, slide past her, and return to the den, where my mother lounges near the fireplace. She uses her glass to beckon me toward her.
I stare at her for a little while, trying to figure out her end game. She’s been trying to get me out of this house ever since my father passed away. It’s no wonder she let me run off to my uncle’s estate, where I nearly got assaulted. Did she set that up? So it would be a quick marriage? What else has she done to get me out from under her roof?
“You knew the whole time,” I accuse while realizing what I overheard the other time. “You knew Daddy had other children.”
“I don’t know what you mean, Alexandra.” She sips her brandy. “You must be inebriated again.”
“Oh, far from it. I’ve been sober for a whole damn week.”