Binding Rose: A Dark Mafia Romance(5)

“To ensure blood will stop flowing, we need to mix the families together,” he proceeds with his rant. “We must make sure we are all connected in some way, so no one thinks twice before waging war on us.”

“Agreed,” the heads of each family reply in sync.

“We all have daughters, and a woman’s reason for being has always been to be used for alliance purposes, so it fits that they be the ones to be sacrificed here,” the Cosa Nostra Don continues on.

I bite my inner cheek at that aloof comment, thinking of little Iris back home being thrown to the lions just to end our combined strife. Unfortunately, I don’t see another way, either.

“Once the girls are of age, they must marry the leaders of their family, or soon to be dons and bosses. This exchange must all be done within the same time frame. We don’t want to have anyone back out because they got cold feet and are no longer interested in the union. Can we agree on those terms?”

No one says anything to the contrary, establishing a silent agreement.

“Good. Now seeing as my daughter is only eight and the youngest of the girls, I propose marriage should only occur in ten years’ time when she’s of age.”

“That’s preposterous!” Miguel exclaims, looking red-faced with fury. “My daughter is of age now. How can you expect Rosa to wait to be married until she’s almost thirty? People will think there is something wrong with her.”

“When has public opinion ever been a concern for us?” Benny retorts smugly with an arched brow.

“This will make a mockery of my family. It will only bring shame to my daughter. At that age, who knows if she’ll even be fertile enough to bear children!?!”

God, this asshole is a misogynistic pig.

Miguel Hernandez doesn’t give two shits about his daughter’s reputation. All he cares about is how having a twentysomething unwed daughter will look on him.

“My mother bore children well up to her fortieth birthday. I’m sure she’ll be ripe enough to breed when the time comes, not to mention my father bore more bastards than you can imagine at that age,” Volkov retorts with a scowl.

“Then you take her!”

“No one is calling dibs on any girl. This needs to be fair to all parties concerned. Therefore, there will be a lottery,” Rossi explains patiently.

“A lottery?! What pinche puta solution is this? Is my Rosa supposed to be awarded like cattle to you?!”

My father, having had enough of the Hernandez’ outrage, pushes his chair back and gets up to his feet. All the men in the room instantly go to their waist to grab their guns. Athair, unbothered by the reaction, walks unruffled to the breakfast table set at the corner of the room. My brows pull together, observing my father grabbing the large bowl of fruit and walking back to his seat. Before he sits back down, he tosses the fruit over his shoulder, and places the bowl in the center of the table. Everyone is silently observing his every move, wondering what he’ll do next. Athair grabs a yellow pad of paper, then proceeds to rip a piece, doodling the Kelly name on it and then dropping it into the bowl.

“We all pick a name. Should the name pulled out be of our own daughter, we pick again until we have a new name.”

“A little childish, but I guess it serves our purpose,” Danny scoffs behind his brother.

Fucker.

“Aye, but I find simplicity always gets the job done. Why make a mountain out of a molehill, I always say.”

I smirk at Athair teaching these Brit assholes a lesson.

“It will do,” Rossi adds, throwing his name into the bowl.

One by one, each boss writes their family name on pieces of paper and throws them into the pit of despair, while looking none too happy about it.

And why would they be?

The bowl symbolizes conformity where once free will prevailed.

Yet, it’s the only way to guarantee we live another day in this messed up world of ours.

Ten years.

That’s all I have.

Ten years of blessed freedom until I’m chained to a woman I’ll despise on mere principle alone. Worse still, she will have to bear children of my blood, making sure that every time I look at them, all I’ll see is an enemy ready to take my place. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when the time comes. Right now, I’m more concerned with my little sister’s fate than I am my own.

Iris doesn’t deserve this.

She’s a free spirit, but this is going to rob her of her freedom and place her in a gilded cage of our own making. Staring at the men around me, I consider who would be the lesser evil in welcoming Iris to their home and giving her some semblance of the life she now holds so dear. Unfortunately, the stone-cold faces around the table don’t give anything away, much less inspire any spark of hope.

Do they love their daughters as much as Athair loves Iris?

Do they love their sisters as much as I love mine?

Or do they only see them as pawns to be used in this wretched game?

I doubt any of them care one bit that these girls will be entering, without their consent even, into what most likely will be a toxic—maybe even abusive—relationship. That they will be forced to live in a hostile environment for the rest of their lives just to ensure the treaty is upheld. Just the mere idea of it makes me wish I could demand that Athair back out of this deal right now. Better we all die today than have Iris be subjected to such cruelty tomorrow.