Her Desire

prologue

-
SEVEN YEARS AGO
-

I was sitting on the living room floor, flipping through pages of my book when I mother walked into the room.

"Sansa, come along now. We need to be at Daddy's show in an hour," my mother told me, not once looking up from her phone.

I wanted to stay home and finish this chapter, but I never disobeyed orders. I grabbed my bag and coat and followed her out the door, getting into the back of my mother's car, my mother sitting in the passenger seat up front.

What? I said she had a car, I didn't say she drove it.

She told the driver where to go before looking back down at her phone and typing profusely.

Just as she was finishing up, she got a call, making her groan. "Jesus Christ," she muttered low under her breath. "Sansa, I'm getting a work call again. Cover your ears."

Again, I do as I'm told earning a small smile from my mother as she takes the call. Now here's one thing about these work calls. I always knew exactly what they were talking about.

I'm not naïve. I would never block my ears completely. Anyways, they were in the mafia. It was so painfully obvious. The secretive messages, burner phones, private schools, and security, the... weapons. It was crystal clear.

They would always try to cover it up with my dad's fashion company, and I would believe them.

'We need security protect us.'

'Private schools are just the best for you.'

'We're just talking about business.'

Yeah, right.

"Can this wait? I'm in the car with Sansa," my mother said, her voice shaking and her leg also bouncing. She seemed on edge.

"Ophelia, I just got off the phone with William. We both agreed that we can marry the girls off at eighteen." I could tell it was my father's voice on the other end.

My mother groans loudly, running a hand through her curls. "She deserves true love as we have, Richard. Not a marriage she doesn't even have a say in."

"I know, Ophelia, but listen. Valentine is a good girl, she comes from a good family, is a star soccer player, and an even better attribute, they're best friends, Ophelia. It will be fine."

My mother rolled her eyes and sighed heavily, looking out the window for a second. "I hope you're right, Richard. I—I hope this is a good decision."

"It will be, Ophelia. It'll make both mafias stronger. I promise you."

Valentine? My best friend? My future... wife?

"Okay," she swallowed hard, her breathing settling down. "Okay."

"Don't say anything yet. We will tell both of them tonight. After the show."

She just nodded before saying a few more words and hanging up the phone.

My mother looked over at me after the call as we arrived in front of the venue.

My mother unbuckled my seat and helped me out of the car, a smile plastered on her face. I could tell it was fake.

-

LATER THAT NIGHT

-

"I'm not going to marry her, Dad. I—I won't marry her. I refuse," I told my father with tears in my eyes.

He walked towards me, placing a hand on my shoulder. I think it was meant to be comforting, but it just made me feel trapped. "Sweetheart, it's for a good reason, okay? It'll make both mafias stronger. You have to understand."

I just shook my head, pulling myself out of his grip. "I don't care. I don't care, I won't marry her. I—I won't."

I looked over to Valentine who was also talking to her parents. She was angry I could tell, but she wasn't as expressive as me, she was crying though.

"Girls!" Valentine's father, William, shouted, causing everyone in the room to shut up. "It has been finalized. You will be married off at eighteen to strengthen both the Italian and New York mafias. It is final. Period."

There was no arguing when it came to William Simmons. His words were always final and that was that.

I huffed, giving up on protesting, and so did Valentine.

I knew one thing at that moment.

I was going to stay far away from Valentine as I could,

even if it kills me.