Collateral: an Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

by Natasha Knight

  Before I push the button to ring the doorbell, I twist my engagement ring so the diamond is on the inside. I hope Alex won’t see it.

  I realize the doorbell doesn’t work so I pull open the screen, which wobbles on its hinges, and knock loudly. There’s a light on around the back of the house which I saw walking up here, but the front room is dark.

  A few minutes and two more knocks later, I hear the chain and the lock turns and Alex’s aunt, a fifty-something woman with small features and a look of worry on her face opens the door.

  That worry turns darker the moment she sees me.

  I greet her, pretending I don’t see the way she’s looking at me. She mutters something, makes the sign of the cross. I don’t need to catch the words to know what she’s trying to say.

  She doesn’t want me here.

  And when I see Alex roll up behind her on a wheelchair, both legs in casts up to the thigh and stretched straight out in front of him, I can understand why.

  “Alex!” I rush in, tears flooding my eyes.

  I saw him beaten. I heard his bones break. And as terrible as that was, this, the result, the consequence he bore for me, it’s more overwhelming than all of it.

  “Gabi,” Alex says when I hug him, trying not to hurt him as I do.

  He hugs me back as best he can, one arm around my shoulders as I bury my face in his neck.

  “I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

  “We talked about this,” he says, pulling back.

  I straighten and look down at him, look at the stitches on the side of his head where the doctors must have shaved his hair to close the cut. I remember when he’d been struck by the broken beer bottle and I hate the man who did it.

  “It’s not your fault. And besides, I’d do it all again if I had to,” he says.

  At that, his aunt calls out to God.

  He turns to her, tells her it’s okay, and to go inside.

  She looks at me, distrust in her eyes. I don’t blame her. “She shouldn’t be here,” she says. “She’ll get you killed.”

  “I just want to give you something,” I say, reaching into my clutch to take out the Ziploc of cash. “They’re dollars but you can exchange them for Euros. There’s almost ten-thousand here.”

  I hold it out to her, but Alex puts his hand over mine. “No need for that, Gabi. I told you that, too.”

  “Just let me do this one thing, Alex. It’s nothing compared to what you did for me.”

  “You’d have done the same thing if our roles were reversed. And Gabe…” He trails off.

  A moment of silence passes between us. We’re both thinking of Gabe. Of what happened. Of the consequences he bore.

  “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved,” I say, needing to not think about my brother.

  “Do you still have the passport?” Alex asks.

  I nod, feeling the sharp edges of the diamond in my palm. I don’t have the heart to tell him it doesn’t matter. That my circumstances have changed. I gesture to the money instead.

  “Please, take it.”

  Alex nods, giving his permission. His aunt cautiously takes the money.

  That’s when the front door crashes in and Alex’s aunt screams and I scream too, jumping in front of the wheelchair, thinking it’s my father’s men and they somehow followed me and came back to punish Alex again. Maybe to finish the job this time.

  But it’s not my father who walks inside. Who stands there brandishing a gun. It’s not his men who stalk into the small house as if they own it, as if they have every right to be here.

  It’s Rafa and two other men I don’t know.

  And behind them is Stefan.

  15

  Stefan

  So this is Alex? He’s a fucking kid. Her age, I’d guess. With two broken legs and fresh bruises on his face and arms.

  But he’s got his hand on Gabriela and is tugging her back behind himself, away from me.

  As if he’d stand between me and what I want.

  The older woman has dropped to her knees and is sobbing, praying out loud and Gabriela, my deceitful little fiancée, stands beside Alex, eyes wide. The makeup of earlier has smeared around her eyes and her hair is wavy from the up-do. She looks stunning and messed up and utterly terrified all at once.

  “What the hell is this?” I ask as I step over the splintered wood of the door and deeper into the house to collect what’s mine.

  When I take Gabriela’s wrist, she pulls back, and I see how Alex’s hold on her tightens as he sets his other hand on his lap and cocks his pistol.

  He must have had it tucked into the side of the chair. I would too if I were him.

  The sound of Rafa’s gun being cocked comes from behind me and I raise up my hand to stop him or anyone else from shooting.

  “You’re Alex?” I ask, noting the plastic bag of American dollars on the dirty carpet.

  The younger man nods, eyes narrowing.

  “I’ll ask you exactly once to get your hands off my fiancée.”

  His eyebrows furrow together, and he turns to Gabriela.

  I notice she doesn’t quite meet his eyes when she nods to him.

  “It’s okay,” she says, her voice quaking. She must know it’s not okay. Not at all.

  He lets her go.

  I turn to her, look down at her hand. I see the platinum band, so I twist the ring until the diamond is on the outside. This, I guess, is her following my order to not take it off.

  “Outside. In the car. Now.”

  She shakes her head and I gesture to Rafa who puts his gun away and steps forward to take her to the car.

  I brought Rafa on purpose. I want to be sure she’s clear that there’s nothing nice about my cousin.

  Rafa takes hold of her arm. “Let’s go,” he tells her, his voice slightly less harsh than mine.

  “No!” she tugs against him, taking hold of the back of a nearby chair.

  Alex turns, points his gun at Rafa.

  “She said no. Get your hand off her or I’ll blow it off.”

  Rafa smiles, but that smile turns evil in the space of a second as he reaches for his weapon and I lunge forward, gripping Alex’s arm and aiming it up toward the ceiling when it goes off.

  Gabriela screams and so does the old woman who buries her face in the seat of the ratty couch as plaster rains down on us.

  “Let’s put all the fucking guns away, shall we?” I say.

  I relieve Alex of his and I think we’d be well matched if it wasn’t for the fact that his legs are both broken, and he’s confined to a fucking wheelchair.

  “You too, Rafa,” I tell my cousin, turning to him as I tuck Alex’s pistol into the back of my pants. “And get her out of here.”

  “Let me explain! I can explain,” Gabriela begs as Rafa tugs her toward the door. “Please, Stefan. Don’t hurt him. You can’t hurt him. Please just let me explain.”

  I look at her, take a step toward her.

  When she tugs at her arm, I gesture for Rafa to release her. I grip a handful of hair myself and force her tear-stained face up to mine.

  I note her wince in pain but the fact that it still takes her a moment to drag her gaze from Alex to meet mine fills me with an unexpected and indescribable rage.

  “Are you fucking him?” I spit.

  Her expression becomes confused. “What? Am I…no!” She shakes her head as much as she can with the fistful of hair I’m holding. “You’re hurting me, Stefan.”

  I don’t relax my grip. Instead, I twist a little harder.

  She grits her teeth, taking it.

  “Then explain.” The room goes silent but for the blubbering old woman. “And for fuck’s sake, someone take that woman to another room.” The fucking prayers she’s chanting over and over again are pissing me off almost as much as finding Gabriela with another man.

  Two men walk the woman out of the room. Gabriela’s attention turns toward them.

  “Over here. Eyes on me, Gabi.” I read the texts after she left. It
’s what Alex calls her. They’re that familiar.

  She obeys. “Please. It hurts,” she says again, tugging at my arm.

  I let go of her hair.

  “You have thirty fucking seconds. Talk fast.”

  “I just came to give them some money. He…my father did that to him. Broke both his legs. That’s why the other night…that’s why there was that blood on my shirt. They made me watch.”

  “Why did he break his legs?”

  “I ran away. Alex helped me.”

  Her father ordering the beating makes sense, but making her watch? That’s fucked up.

  “My father was going to marry me off to Abe McKinney’s son and I ran. It was all I could do, Stefan. But they caught up with us and he did this to Alex then sent him here and I know his aunt doesn’t have any money and he has no job and—”

  “Alex worked for your father?”

  She nods. “His father did too but he died a few years ago.”

  “And he betrayed your father to help you?”

  “Yes.”

  I glance at Alex, at the casts, wonder if he’ll walk again. I don’t ask that. Instead, I ask another question. “Why?”

  “Why?” she parrots, teary-eyed.

  “Why would he do that?”

  She studies me and the look in her eyes becomes almost pitiful.

  “Because you help your friends,” Alex answers from behind me.

  I ignore him. “And why is he here? In Rome?”

  “To keep me away from Gabriela,” he answers again.

  “I didn’t ask you,” I say, without turning to him. I step closer to her, catch her when she steps backward and stumbles over the splintered door. I narrow my gaze. “What is he to you?”

  “My friend. That’s all.” Her voice breaks and fat tears fall from her eyes. “He’s my friend, Stefan.” I get the feeling she doesn’t have many of those and I don’t know if it’s the way she said it or the way she’s looking at me or how fucking pathetic she looks right now, a mess, but beautiful still, and crying. Crying for her friend. Desperate to save him from me.

  “Do I need to keep him away from you?”

  “Why?” she asks, her face crumpling, tears black from all that mascara. “Why would you do that? Am I not isolated enough? Don’t you have what you want? Everything you want?” She hugs her arms around her middle, her shoulders rounding, shrinking in. Like she did with her father tonight.

  I’m not like him.

  I’m nothing like that monster.

  “Not everything, no.” I grit my teeth. “I’ll ask you one more time and you’d better not lie to me. Are you fucking him?” My voice is low but hard, harder than I intend.

  She steels her spine and I see a wall go up. Remember how she’d been when she’d seen Clara.

  “Not everything is about fucking. Maybe for you it is, but not for me.” Her voice, too, is hard. Her hands fist. “I don’t have to be fucking someone to love them, Stefan.”

  That last part is like a slap to the face. I feel my chest tighten, my hands clench and unclench.

  Alex cuts in. He must feel the tension growing.

  “Gabi’s like a sister. I’ve known her and her brother since I was two for fuck’s sake. What I did I’d do again knowing the consequences. Her brother did the same for me. So why don’t you step away from her. Give her some space.”

  I hear him mutter asshole at the end of that heroic sentence and I turn on him. Because I’m going to hurt this mother fucker, broken legs or not.

  Gabriela grabs my arm and I think this is the first time she’s touched me. At least not to shove me away.

  Does it count when she put her hands on my shoulders to brace herself to kick me in the nuts? I decide it doesn’t.

  I take a step toward Alex and her grip tightens.

  “Stefan, stop. Please. Alex is my friend. That’s all. If you hurt him because of me—” her voice breaks and I turn to watch her swallow the lump. “If you hurt him, or worse, because of me, I’ll never forgive you just like I will never forgive my father for what he did.”

  I don’t know why that matters. Why those last words leave any impression at all.

  I turn to one of my soldiers. “Give me that.” I point to the bag of cash.

  “That’s for them. It’s not yours!” Gabriela says.

  “Gabi,” Alex warns her with a shake of his head, and it fucking grates on my nerves, that fucking nickname. That and the fact that she heeds his warning.

  I open the bag. “How do you have this much cash?” There’s several thousand in hundred-dollar bills.

  “I always save it, little bits at a time so my father won’t find out,” Gabriela says. “It’s all I had when I left the other night.”

  I turn to her. “And you’re just going to hand it over to him?”

  “Yes. And it’s none of your business,” she says, reaching to take the bag. “It’s my money.”

  I capture her wrist when she does. “I’m being patient, Gabriela. You need to be very careful here.”

  She searches my eyes and I study hers, think how pretty she is even if she is a mess with her spoiled make-up and hair.

  She lets go of the bag and waits.

  I study her, give her a nod, then toss it onto Alex’s lap.

  “Let’s go,” I tell my men.

  16

  Gabriela

  I’m shuffled into the backseat of one of the cars and Stefan rides in the front. He doesn’t talk to me on our way back to the house.

  Once we’re there, he walks me up to my bedroom.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when he comes inside.

  He closes the door and takes my clutch which I’d grabbed on our way out of Alex’s house.

  He opens it, takes out my iPod, pockets it. He does the same with my credit card and cocks his head to the side as he lifts out my passport, tossing the clutch onto the bed.

  I watch him as he opens it and reads the name.

  “You don’t look like a Sandy,” he says. “How did you get the passport?”

  “Alex helped me.”

  “You were really going to run away? Disappear?”

  I nod.

  “With him?”

  “No. Just me. He was helping, that’s all.”

  “You’d give everything up?”

  “What was I giving up?” I feel my eyes fill up. “You don’t understand what it’s like to be Gabriel Marchese’s daughter, Stefan. You have no idea.”

  “Then tell me.” He pockets the passport.

  “Why? It doesn’t matter anymore. And besides, you don’t care.”

  “You don’t know me, Gabriela.”

  “I know you’re more like my father than you think.”

  “Don’t insult me. I’m nothing like that man.”

  “Really? Let me make my point. He would sell me off to another man for his gain. You take me for yours. He isolated me, kept me under guard. I don’t even have a cell phone, Stefan. Nothing. You’re doing the same. Even taking my iPod. I was a prisoner there, I’m a prisoner here. He did the same thing to my mom. It’s what you’re going to do to me. Do you think I don’t know that?” I swipe the back of a fisted hand across my eyes, hating my tears. “Just leave me alone, okay? It’s been a really long day.”

  “I gave him the money, didn’t I?”

  I don’t reply.

  “Let me ask you this. What would your father have done?”

  I don’t want to answer that. I don’t want to think about the truth of it.

  “You set me up,” I say instead.

  He nods.

  “I knew it was too easy to get out of here. I knew it. How did you find out?”

  “Text message from Alex. It popped up when I was looking at your computer.”

  “You were testing me.”

  “And you failed.”

  My stomach tenses.

  “What did your brother do for Alex?” he asks out of the blue.

  “What?”

 
“Alex said your brother did the same for him. What did he mean?”

  I look away and think about Gabe and what happened. “Nothing,” I answer, swallowing back the lump. “He just meant when we were little. My mom would pick him up and take him with us sometimes. Alex’s mom died when he was a kid and they never had a lot of money. That’s all.”

  “Sounded like more than that.”

  “Well it’s not.” I need to change the subject. “What now?”

  He cocks his head to the side. “Now you wash your face and brush your teeth and get ready for bed,” he says, undoing his bow tie and letting it hang there as he unbuttons the top button of his shirt.

  “If you’re going to punish me, I’d rather just get it over with.” I feel a little sick.

  Stefan’s eyes narrow infinitesimally while he studies me and it’s hard for me to hold his gaze.

  “What do you think I’m going to do to you, Gabriela?”

  I hug my arms to myself, look down.

  “Christ.” A long, silent moment passes. “I’m not going to punish you.”

  I look up at him, surprised, expecting something else.

  He steps toward me, close enough I can feel the heat of his body.

  “This is your one reprieve with me, Gabriela. I won’t allow another. You belong to me. Understand that and understand it fast. I already told you, I don’t want to bury you along with your father. Believe it or not, I don’t want to hurt you. But don’t push me. If you stand in my way, or you pull any stunt like this again, you will get hurt. Am I clear?”

  I nod. He’s crystal clear. Always was.

  “Good. Get cleaned up and go to bed,” he says, and turns to walk into the bathroom, taking off his jacket on his way and tossing it over the back of a chair.

  “What are you doing?”

  He pulls his shirt out of his pants, undoes the buttons and cuffs and strips it off.

  My gaze shifts to his chest and I have to drag it back up to his face.

  He’s got that one-corner grin thing going on.

  “What are you doing?” I ask again, having to clear my throat before I can speak. My voice sounds strange even as I shift my weight to one leg and set my hands on my hips to appear annoyed.