Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance(14)

Knowing what you know, why didn’t you fight to keep me away?

To keep me safe from such a cruel fate?

“If all you say is true, then you might as well slit my throat now and end my misery, hermano. How am I expected to ensure the lineage with such a family?” I retort instead of uttering what really pains my soul.

Alejandro cups my cheeks in his palms and brings me closer to him.

“But Rosa, don’t you see? That’s precisely what you must do. No one expects you to be of any influence on the Kellys, but both they and Miguel will expect a grandchild. And soon.”

I hear the warning in his tone well enough. If I don’t bear Tiernan sons, then I’ll bring shame to my family. And between the Kellys’ blatant animosity towards me and my father’s wrath, I don’t know which one I should fear most if I don’t follow through. Isn’t that the whole basis for why I’m marrying this stranger, after all? To ensure the bloodlines are mixed to guarantee loyalty amongst our two families?

With all the bravery I can muster, I sit up straighter and pull back from my brother’s hands, never wavering my gaze from his.

“I know what is expected of me, Alejandro. I was born a woman. I know what my role is.”

My brother sits back in his chair, his expression morphing into a blank canvas, devoid of all feeling.

“We all have our crosses to bear. Gender has nothing to do with it.”

When the stewardess brings him back his scotch, he drinks it all in one quick gulp.

“I’m going to freshen up before we land. I suggest you do the same.”

He then gets up from his seat and goes to the back of the plane, locking himself in the private bedroom.

With my head leaned against the headrest, I ponder all the ways that my life could have been different. I still remember the night Miguel announced I was promised to the Kellys. That night, I packed everything that meant something to me into a duffle bag, with the full intention of running away from such a fate. I would have gotten away with it, too, if Francesco hadn’t come to my bedroom to check up on me to see how I was handling the news of my engagement. Unfortunately for me, my baby brother took one look at the bag I was packing and knew exactly what I was about to do.

“He’ll find you. No matter where you hide, he’ll always find you.”

“I doubt that Tiernan Kelly would mourn the loss of his bride-to-be.”

“I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about our father.”

That was all it took to keep me obedient.

Miguel Hernandez would scour the ends of the earth to find me. And when he did, he would beat me to within an inch of my life. But he wouldn’t kill me. I’m too precious of a commodity for that. No. Once I was nicely healed, he would ship me off to Boston to make sure the treaty went through with the other families.

My death would not be my penance. But neither would my bruised body. The real punishment would be that he would kill the only person I truly ever loved—the only person my father would suspect knew about my plans of escaping all along.

He’d kill my baby brother.

He’d kill Francesco.

Francesco’s life would be forfeited for my disrespect and dishonor. Not only would my marriage still go forth, but I would have his death on my conscience. I would have to live out my days knowing that because of my decision to flee, my beloved brother paid my debt with his life. I would never be able to live with myself if that happened.

Never.

So like the submissive daughter my father expected me to be, I accepted my fate. I’d accept it all if I could spare my brothers any pain. Even Alejandro and Javier.

Too bad I was raised Catholic. At times like these, I wish I practiced another faith. If I had been born into the Hindu, Buddhist, or even Sikh beliefs, maybe I could believe that this was not the only life afforded me. I could take comfort in knowing that all I had to do was endure the next sixty-odd years, knowing that on my deathbed, I’d finally be free.

I’d finally live a life I could find joy in.

But in my faith, we only have this one life to live. After that, we can either expect our deeds to send us to St. Peter’s pearly white gates or to the sulfur-smelling fiery pits of hell. I’ve made my peace with that, too. Either one is preferable to the purgatory I’ve lived so far.

With those thoughts in mind, I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to the virgin mother.

“Virgen de Guadalupe, Te lo ruego. Please let me do my duty with ease and grace. Let the man who I’m to marry be patient, if not kind. Let him see my struggle as his own and let him be merciful. Should he need to discipline me in any fashion, let me be brave enough to take my punishment with dignity. And most of all, let my womb bear healthy sons. If I’m to be deprived of love, let me at least know the joy of motherhood. In them, I can seek comfort when life is cruel and hard. Por favor, give me the poise to bring my husband pride and the good sense not to hinder whatever affection he may show me.”

I whisper three Hail Marys after my solemn prayer before I’m interrupted by Alejandro’s return.

“You’re praying again,” he reprimands. “No God above will aid you in your time of need. If anything should happen to you, then the only person you should be going to your knees for is your husband.”

The crude statement makes me both cringe and, to my horror, blush.

“Yes, that’s it, hermana. Please Tiernan in the bedroom and give him all the Irish babies he wants. Once he’s had a few boys to ensure the bloodlines, then he’ll tire of you and seek some other woman’s bed. That is all you can hope for. Then you will live like a queen—because I’ll make sure that he does—and he’ll leave you alone, too preoccupied with business and mistresses to pay you any mind. From my calculations, all you’ll have to endure is five years tops to be free of your shackles.”