The Scandalous Orsinis. Sandra Marton
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“Si, Don Cordiano?”
“Did you hear everything?”
The fat man hesitated, then shrugged. “Sì. I heard.”
“Then you know that my daughter has lost her honor.”
Rafe raised his eyebrows. “Now, wait a damned minute…”
“All these years, I raised her with care.”
“You didn’t raise me at all,” Chiara said, her voice trembling. “Nannies. Governesses—”
Her father ignored her. “I saw to it that she remained virtuous and saved her chastity for the marriage bed.”
“Papa. What are you talking about? I have not lost my chastity! It was only a kiss!”
“Today, she chose to throw away her innocence.” The don’s mouth twisted. “Such dishonor to bring on my home!”
Chiara laughed wildly. Rafe looked at her. Her cheeks were crimson; her eyes were enormous. Somehow the tight bun had come undone and her hair, thick and lustrous, swung against her shoulders.
“I’ve brought dishonor to this house?”
The don ignored her. His attention was on his capo.
“Giglio,” he said, “my old friend. What shall I do?”
“Wait a minute,” Rafe said, starting toward the don. Pig Man stepped in his path; he brushed him aside as if he were no more than a fly. “Listen to me, Cordiano. You’re making this into something that never happened. I kissed your daughter. I sure as hell didn’t take her virginity!”
“This is not America, Orsini. Our daughters do not flaunt their bodies. They do not let themselves be touched by strangers. And I am not talking to you. I am talking to you, Giglio, not to this… this straniero.”
Pig Man said nothing, but his tiny eyes glittered.
“I cannot even blame him for what happened,” Cordiano continued. “Foreigners know nothing of our ways. It was all my daughter’s fault, Giglio, and now, what am I to do to restore our family’s honor?”
Holy hell, Rafe thought, this was like something out of a really bad movie. The furious villain. The terrified virgin. And the pig, licking his thick lips and looking from the woman to the don as if the answer to the question might appear in neon in the space between them.
“Okay,” Rafe said quickly, “okay, Cordiano, tell me what will stop this nonsense. You want me to direct my apology to you? Consider it done. What happened was my fault entirely. I regret it. I didn’t mean to offend your daughter or you. There. Are you satisfied? I hope to hell you are because this… this farce has gone far enough.”
He might as well have said nothing. Cordiano didn’t even look at him. Instead, he spread his arms beseechingly at his capo.
Giglio was sweating. And all at once Rafe knew where this nightmare was heading.
“Wait a minute,” he said, but Cordiano put his hand in the small of Chiara’s back and sent her flying into the meaty arms of his capo.
“She is yours,” he said in tones of disgust. “Just get her out of my sight.”
“No!” Chiara’s cry echoed in the room. “No! Papa, you cannot do this!”
She was right, Rafe thought frantically. Of course Cordiano couldn’t do this. He wouldn’t.
But Cordiano had taken a telephone from his desk. It, at least, was a symbol of modernity, bright and shiny and bristling with buttons. He pushed one, then spoke. Rafe’s Italian was bad, his Sicilian worse, but he didn’t need a translator to understand what he was saying.
He was arranging for Chiara and Pig Man to be married.
Chiara, who understood every word, went white. “Papa. Please, please, I beg you—”
Enough, Rafe thought, He tore the phone from Cordiano’s hand and hurled it across the room.
“It’s not going to happen,” he growled.
“You are nobody here, Signor Orsini.”
Rafe’s lips stretched in a cold grin. “That’s where you’re wrong. I am always somebody. It’s time you understood that. Chiara! Step away from the pig and come to me.”
She didn’t move. Rafe took his eyes from Cordiano long enough to steal a look at her. He cursed under his breath. That last faint had probably been a fake. This one wouldn’t be. She wasn’t just pale, she was the color of paper.
“Giglio. Let go of the lady.”
Nothing. Rafe took a breath and dug his hand into his pocket, snagged his BlackBerry and shoved it forward so it made a telltale bulge. As he’d hoped, the capo’s eyes followed.
“Do it,” he said through his teeth, “and you might have an unfortunate accident.”
That was all it took. The pig’s arms dropped to his sides. Despite everything, or maybe because of it, Rafe struggled not to laugh. He could almost hear his brothers’ howls when he told them how he’d faked out a man who was surely a stone-cold killer with his trusty PDA.
“Chiara. Get over here.”
She crossed the room slowly, her eyes never leaving his. When she reached him, he took her wrist, brought her close to his side. She was shaking like a young tree in a wind storm; her skin felt clammy under his fingers. He cursed, slid his arm around her waist and tucked her against him. She came willingly and his anger toward her gave way to compassion. Sure, this whole damned mess was her fault—he’d kissed her, but if she hadn’t pulled that stupid trick on the road, it never would have happened—but her father’s reaction, even for an old-line Sicilian, was way out of line.
“It’s okay,” he said softly.
She nodded. Still, he could hear her teeth chattering.
“It’s okay,” he said again. “Everything’s going to be fine.”
She looked up at him, eyes glittering with unshed tears, and shook her head. Her loosened hair drifted across one side of her face and he fought back the sudden crazy desire to tuck the strands back behind her ear.
“No,” she said, so softly that he could hardly hear her. “My father will give me to Giglio.”
Rafe felt his muscles tense. Give her away. As if she were Cordiano’s property.
“He won’t. I won’t let him.”
Her mouth trembled. She said something, so quietly he couldn’t hear it, and he cupped her face, lifted it to his.
“What did you say?”
She shook her head again.
“Chiara. Tell me what you said.”
She took a long, deep breath, so deep that he could see the lift of her breasts even within the shapeless black dress.
“I said he will do what he wishes, Signor Orsini, once you have gone.”
Was she right? Was this only a temporary respite from her father’s crazed insistence that the only way to restore the honor she had not lost was by marrying her off?
The sound of slow applause made him look up. Cordiano, smiling, was clapping his hands together.
“Bravo, Signor Orsini. Nicely done. I see that your father raised you properly. In fact, you are very much like him.”
Rafe shot a cold look at the other man. “I assure you, Cordiano, I am nothing like my father.”
“It was meant as a compliment, I assure you. You are quick. Strong. Fearless. As for your earlier refusal to admit that you