I stood, anger radiating from me in waves of heat. I felt Brad’s hand at my arm, a warning in his touch. “Mr. Magiano, I am not marrying into your family. I want nothing to do with your family or your way of life. You scorn my decision to endanger my unborn children. I question your role as a father. You think you lead this family? You believe they have respect for you, but I assure you, anyone who respects you is not intelligent enough to distinguish fear from respect. Thank you for your time, it was a pleasure seeing what caused Brad to become the man I fell in love with. Anyone who left this family with some semblance of sanity has my admiration, and he certainly has my love.”
He laughed, a hard sound that did nothing but fan my infuriation, frustration swelling in me, mixed with a fear, an awareness of my low standing in this room. He turned, his eyes meeting mine across the room. In unison his two sons rose, twin pillars of gorgeous framing the old man’s empty seat. I ignored them, my hands in fists by my side.
The old man spoke slowly, his eyes locked on mine. “For someone who owes me her life, you are a nasty little bitch.”
I turned from his face and met the eyes of Brad’s brothers, two sets of barely contained anger. Right back at’cha. Then I turned, striding to the double doors and shoving on the wood with a burst of anger.
♦♦♦
The doors settled silently behind Julia, and Brad watched them close completely before turning back to his father. “She’s not Hillary. My love for her is much stronger than that. And she is much stronger than Hillary. You are not going to be able to scare her into submission, or convince her to leave with threats. She will stand up to you.”
A small smile creased the lines of his father’s face. “I would have thought you would have picked a smarter girl than that, Bradley.”
“Stay away from her. And make sure that message travels through the ranks.” He stared into one brother’s eyes, then the other, both of them shrinking slightly under his stony stare. He turned to leave and was stopped by his father’s voice.
“I thought you had her under control, Brad.”
He turned to meet his father’s eyes.
“You had assured me of her silence, of her loyalty to this family. You expect us to welcome her, to protect her, but she has nothing but disrespect for me and for your family. Why should I trust her to keep her silence?”
“You don’t have a choice. You are my father, and she will be my wife. It is done. Last I checked, blood still means something in this family.” He didn’t wait for a response, but turned and left the room, shoving open the double doors without restraint, the heavy wood slamming into the walls with a loud crack.
In unison, the two brothers moved, stepping forward with curses and anger but were stopped with the raised hand of their father. “Let them go.” He moved with slow steps back to his chair, settling in with a heavy sigh. “There are other ways to handle this.”
Chapter 19
We rode back to the house in silence, my mind flitting through the words of his father, playing on repeat the conversation we had had. My hands threatened to shake, and I squeezed them together. I was not used to confrontation. With Brad, yes. With strangers I didn’t know, ones who murdered people without thought, no. It was a new experience, and one I hoped to never experience again.
“Are you okay?” Brad’s voice was tight, and I looked over to see his jaw clenched.
“Yeah. You never told me about the dog ... and your father putting you in the hospital.”
“It’s one of a lot of stories, ones I never want you to have to hear. I’m at peace with them. They made me into the person I am today.” He reached over, gripping my hand. “He is right, about your safety.”
I ran my free hand over his, watching the muscles in his hand flex. “You mean, from the other families?”
“Yes. It is a small risk, but one that is present. The risk is diminished because of my lack of involvement in family activities. I don’t engage in actions that would spark a vendetta. But it is a risk, and the thought of someone hurting you terrifies me.” He pulled into the dark drive of the house, pressing the garage door opener and waiting on its movement. He turned to me. “My house is well protected—our security system is the best on the market. But that doesn’t protect you the rest of the time. How would you feel about private security? Someone to keep an eye on you when we are apart?”
I shuddered. “No.” The words spilled out quickly and with strength. “I don’t want anyone following me, or watching me. I need my freedom. I’d rather deal with the risk.”
His silence voiced his disapproval, and the car rolled forward, coming to a stop inside the garage. He turned off the engine and turned to me, cupping my face in his hand. He sighed, his eyes searching mine before pulling me to him for a kiss.
I broke the contact, wanting to finish the conversation. “Do you understand? Why I don’t want security?”
“Yeah. I wouldn’t want it either. But I don’t like the thought of you without protection. I want you to start training with Ben.”
“Ben? In what, jujitsu?” I raised my eyebrows.
“Yes. Meet with him a few times; he can train you at the house. If you don’t think it’s worth your time, then you can stop.” The concern in his eyes was heartbreaking, unease submerged in dark brown depths.
A close friend of Brad’s, Ben didn’t strike me as lethal, but I knew martial arts were a major focus in his life. I had met Ben a few weeks after our engagement, and he was a familiar face in the house, taking advantage of Martha’s cooking on lasagna night, and often working out with Brad. I liked him, his quiet sense of humor a good fit with Brad’s and my outspoken personalities. Newly single, his last relationship had ended badly, the pain still fresh in his eyes when she came up. Ben and Brad had met playing baseball, part of a city league that ran for two months every summer. As best I could tell, baseball season was an event they looked forward to all year. Brad had spent a good part of last week in the den, poring over Eastbay catalogs with Ben and ordering custom uniforms, bats, and equipment. They were like kids looking forward to Christmas, our meals now revolving around lineups, schedules, and recruitment of key players.
“It’s either Ben or security. Pick one.” His mouth was a hard line, and I frowned at the ultimatum. But there was a part of me, a part that I tried to push away, that was shaken by his father’s words. They had opened a Pandora’s box of insecurity. About my safety, about Brad’s intentions, about our future. I looked away, pressing the button that closed the garage.