ChapterThirty
Parker
I’m not a gentleman. I’m not known for being considerate, buying flowers, or giving a girl a massage. I can’t act like Soren or Tomas, and I sure as fuck refuse to debase myself to look like Lev. It’s not enough that I can’t impress Alex without the right kind of plans, so I take matters into my own hands after school on Monday.
“I took her virginity,” I report to my parents in the living room. “I claimed Alex Moretti.”
My mother sighs with relief. “Bravo, Parker. I knew you would do whatever it takes to get that contract. She won’t be appealing to the others now.”
“It was nothing,” I claim. “She’ll marry me now.”
I glance at my father, who looks like he’s about to explode. Cherry red blooms on his cheeks, and his forehead creases with a grouchy expression. As my mother goes on about what the wedding will look like, my father launches across the room, locking his fingers around my throat.
“You…little…shitbag!” he grumbles while trying to choke me.
My mother gasps and grabs my father’s arm. “Osmond, what the hell are you doing?!”
I grit my teeth and headbutt my father, easily getting him to loosen his grip. Once his fingers go lax, I punch him in the center of his chest, sending him stumbling back toward the fireplace.
Mom gets between us and holds up her hands. “What has gotten into the two of you?”
“No idea.” My victory grin makes an appearance, doubling my father’s rage. The red on his face flushes so brightly that he looks more like a volcano god than a grubby deviant. “Must be all the pressure from the contracts.”
“Well,” she says while lowering her arms. “I’m very proud of you, Parker. I didn’t think you would make this one work.”
I shrug. “It’s handled. We don’t have to worry about it anymore.”
“That’s right, son.” She shoots a judgmental glare at my father. “And you should be proud of your kin, you fucking moron. He did exactly what he needed to do for the family.”
My father snorts. “Good job, Parker.”
The two of them bicker as I slip out of the room. I don’t care to hear what my father has to say about the situation—the plan worked. The deal between him and Ophelia is off, leaving Alex to me as she should have been all along. Four contracts must have been Felipe’s idea of a sick fucking joke, one last giant middle finger to the remaining mob families.
Didn’t he realize before his death the kind of chaos that would cause? Maybe that was his intention. But then again, the way Alex spoke of him, maybe he wished for her to have more leverage over her future than anyone else. Giving her a choice in a world where our every move is dictated might have been the most loving gesture of all.
I shake my head while walking into my bedroom. With that handled, I know my mother will call Ophelia. She’ll want the contract officially in her hands right away. Telling her that I snatched Alex up was all I had to do to set everything in motion, and it’s way more than those other fuckers would ever be able to do.
If Alex had wanted any of them, she would have chosen by now. Giving her more time will only worsen our situation. This is the best possible move. For all of us. And I don’t give a flying fuck what the others have to say about it.
My bed appears strangely cold with the idea of Alex occupying it soon. Just thinking about her sleeping next to me every night causes a corded ball of emotions to grow in my gut. It’s as much a power move as it is about pleasure. The way she held my hand at Thanksgiving just reminded me how weird it is to want to own her and care about her at the same time.
Doesn’t matter, I tell myself when I hear the doorbell ring. Mom works quickly. Let me make sure this goes the way it’s supposed to go.
***
As expected, my mother isn’t being quiet about her excitement. The other parents speak in hushed voices in the parlor as drinks and snacks are served. It’s a social event, after all, the announcement of the fucking season. Once it spreads like wildfire, I’ll have secured a fortune and a mighty position where no one can stop me.
And I’ll have Alex right by my side.
I hear Amos grumbling angrily, “Are you sure he’s telling the truth, Paulina?”
“Beyond sure,” my mother responds. “Don’t look so angry, Amos. You should be happy.”
“Well, I’m simply shocked,” Ophelia spits. “She could have at least told us that she chose Parker instead of having us all find out together like this.”
“Truly, dear. It’s absurd,” Amos comments. “We’re her parents, after all.”
Ophelia huffs. “What’s done is done. We can’t tell her about Parker’s confession.”