{STEPHANIE}
It was nearly six o' clock.
I was still nervous as I walked through the long hall, heading towards where the limousine was waiting. My wavy hair swayed from side to side as I fought to keep my walk steady, struggling to calm my frayed nerves.
I was dressed in a black fitted dress which ended just above my knees.
It was not the most conservative look, but at least it had a shallow neckline and no inappropriate slits.
The chauffeur, a Puerto Rican in a blue uniform opened the door and helped me inside.
My father was already in. I slid into the space beside him and gave a tight smile as a way of greeting. He slowly looked me up and down and gave a curt nod of approval.
"Would you like a drink?" he inquired, picking up a bottle of Whiskey.
I shook my head, "No. Thank you."
"Calm down," he laughed. "You seem tense. A few drops of drink would loosen you up, calm you down."
My eyes widened in disbelief. Was he actually trying to be nice? Was this seriously my father?
I watched him as he picked up two glasses and pour a thin stream of the whiskey into both. Then he picked his glass and gestured for me to take the other one.
God. This was getting weird.
My father being nice and caring was strange. It was about the strangest thing. And it filled me with so much fear and doubt about the dinner we were to have.
With the same tight smile, I picked up the glass, tilted it and took a sip.
Just one sip.
Not that I didn't trust my father but...Fine! I didn't trust the man.
"Where are we going?" I inquired, casually putting the glass away.
"There's a newly opened restaurant in the Merlot Hotel," he said. "We have a table there."
I nodded and picked up the glass again, taking another cautious sip.
The limousine swung into the parking lot of the hotel a few minutes later. The disturbing faint smile still lingered on my dad's lips as he offered his hand and led me inside.
My bestie, Jade, was a manager in this five-star hotel and I had paid visits, but this was the first time I took in all the elaborate decor.
As we walked through the long hall, I slowly fed my eyes on the golden ornaments and expensive paintings and exotic flowers and looked with awe at the opulent men bending over their lavish meals, their cutlery clinking on china.
The new restaurant was at the end of the hall. A concierge dressed in an impeccable black penguin suit bent in half as he saw us, and, with a warm smile, led us through the restaurant's main hall to a round table in the corner separated by long screen walls.
My father's guest had come first. He was a man in his fifties with a few silver hair hairs shining among the mass of wavy black.
His deep eyes instantly locked on me as we approached. He scanned me for a moment and a corner of his thin lips inched up.
"Good evening, Fabrizio," my father greeted, giving the man a low bow before turning to me. "Stephanie, this is my friend, Fabrizio Glocciano."
I stiffened at his name. My body stopped working for a split moment. My heart stopped, my brain went on a vacation and I just stood there, lifeless, stiff and numb.
I knew this man. I had heard a lot about him–all the blood-curdling rumors
They called him a sadist who enjoyed beating women and was deeply involved in woman trafficking. The list of his victims was long, and yet the police never went after him. That proved how powerful and dangerous he was. He was the devil incarnated and yet my father smiled at him and called him a friend.
It took all the muscles in me to repress a shudder and force my lips into a thin, trained smile. The only way I would survive this night was to pretend to not know him and the devil he was.
"Nice to meet you, Mr Glocciano," I said trying the best I could to keep my voice smooth.
"Pleasures's all mine," he said with a chuckle and stood up, pulling a chair for me to sit. "Have your seat, lovely Stephanie."
I glanced at my feet and he nodded, urging me to sit. I ground my teeth and forced another false smile. Then I sat down.
I didn't have a death wish. I had met enough powerful assholes in my life to know that they got easily offended, and I didn't want to know what offending this one in front of me would lead to...
Mr Glocciano smoothed the lapels of his suit as he returned to his chair.
"I have to admit that I'm a lover of music and a great fan of your songs, Stephanie," he said, his eyes devouring every exposed inch of me. "My kids love your songs too...before they died."
My stomach curled and knots formed in them. I glanced at my father but he was too buried in studying the menu to notice his friend's evident lust.
It looked like I was left alone to deal with this man on my own.
I drew a short breath and swallowed the stubborn lump forming in my throat. Then I flashed another false smile. "I'm flattered, Mr Glocciano."
He nodded and gestured at a waiter. "Let's order some food. Then we can discuss and get to know each other."
I doubted if I would be able to take a single bite with this man beside me, ravaging me with his eyes, let alone talk with him and get to know him. But I had to. This was about my mother's treatment. To get my father to pay, I would entertain the devil himself if I had to...
I controlled my expressions and emotion, carefully choosing each word as I answered every of his questions. On the surface, I was composed but inside of me was a turbulence.
My annoyance grew by the second, and, after two hours, keeping my mask on became a difficult struggle.
In the secret chambers of my head, I was beginning to concoct an excuse to get out of here, but Glocciano turned to my father suddenly.
"I'm ready to make this deal, Vincent."
I blinked.
What deal was he talking about?
My father clasped his hands gratefully together and smiled. "I'm glad to hear that, friend."
I froze as Glocciano's gaze shifted to me again and his lips formed a blood-chilling grin.
"She might not have Italian blood running in her veins but she has just enough fire within her to give me a proper heir."
Alright. That's enough!
I pushed my chair back and jerked to my feet, my fingers tightening. "I believe there's a misunderstanding here," I gritted out, my glance flickering between the two men.
My father got on his feet and put a restraining hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps I should have told you before coming here. I just didn't want you to feel uptight."
"Uptight?" I echoed furiously. "What the fuck are you saying?"
"Steph. Language," he growled.
"Fuck you!" I yelled.
He sighed and turned to Glocciano.
"She's just upset," he said. "We can discuss the marriage terms without her."
"You must be kidding!" I hissed and faced Glocciano. He had a big frown on his face, his features sharpened, making him look like a predator just before an attack. "I'm sorry, sir, but I cannot marry you. I'm...not fit to be your wife."
"Let me be the judge of that," he said, his voice carrying an undeniable threat. "You're healthy, young and unmarried." He rose to his feet and reached for my hand. "Your only flaw is your temper. And luckily, I know how to tame a tigress."
I stepped back, overwhelmed by my fear, and hit the screen wall. I looked at my father and saw his face turn red with fury.
"Stephanie, that's enough," he fumed. "You will marry Fabrizio and that's final!"
I whirled towards him, shaking with rage and terror. "I'm not your property!" I yelled defiantly. "You can't force me to marry just anybody."
He chuckled darkly and stepped closer, his lips pursed in a grim frown. "You will marry Fabrizio."
"I won't!" I objected.
"Well, if you don't, I won't pay a cent for your mother's treatment, you hear me? I'll let her die!"
I shook with uncertainty at his words. They rattled me, but I was too angry to care. I had survived without him, so it wasn't a big deal. I would find a way to get the money...but only if I made it alive out of this situation.
"Calm down, Vincent," Mr Glocciano spoke with a surprisingly understanding tone. "Maybe she has a good reason for not wanting to marry me."
Father softened a little at his words and calmed down. He returned to his seat and sat down, his arms crossed, his lips twisted in a displeased frown.
"Come on, darling," Glocciano said, gesturing at me. "Sit."
I sat down reluctantly, heaving, boiling.
"So," he said slowly. "Why don't you want to marry me?"
I opened my mouth and slammed it shut immediately. I had to think. The wrong words might make him all cray-cray and then things might go south...
"Because," I said slowly and trailed off. Father and Glocciano kept their inquiring gaze on me.
"Because?" Glocciano prodded.
I couldn't mention the fact that he was older than my father. And it was equally dangerous to mention that he was a notorious criminal.
"Because," I said again. "I am already engaged."
The words just fell.
Glocciano balled his hands and father glared at me.
"To who?" Glocciano asked.
I hesitated. And the realization that I might have just dug my own grave dawned on me.
"To who?!" Glocciano bawled.
It was too late to rethink my words as I blurted out, "Francesco Giacomo."