Salvatore

6

I bang my fist against the door, hoping to convey the urgency of the situation. I will not take no for an answer.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Jordan asks.

"Yes," I insist, knocking once more.

"What?!" Saintes voice booms through the door. "I'm busy!"

"It's Sofie!" I respond. It stays silent for a moment. "I need to talk to you!"

The door is suddenly pulled open, revealed a frustrated Sainte. His hair is a mess and the top button of his shirt is undone. His forehead is wrinkled, but his eyes give nothing away — as usual. He glances between Jordan and I.

"What is this?" he asks.

"My apologies, boss. I tried to stop her," Jordan says, but it's a lie. If anything, he encouraged it.

"Try harder next time," he looks back down at me. "What do you need?"

I march past him, barging into the room.

"Sofie, I wouldn't do that—." Jordan is cut off by the door being slammed in his face.

"What are you doing, Sofia?" Sainte asks.

"Why don't you have any women living here?" I blurt, jumping right to the point.

"There are women living here."

"How many?"

"Five."

"That's not enough," I tell him. "What about in the other compounds? How many women do you have working for you in total?"

"I'm not sure, maybe a hundred."

"A hundred?" I raise my brows in amusement. "And how many men? Thousands?"

"I would say so, yes."

"Do you not see a problem with that?"

"No," he states. "Should I?"

"Yes!" I exclaim.

"Women don't work in this family, Sofia. You should know this."

"I do, and I think it's unfair. Don't you think they should be able to make their own money?"

"Well, they can if they'd like to."

"But they wouldn't be welcome, would they? You'd just put them on kitchen duty, or cleaning, or something like that. You would never let them work in the field."

"That's correct," he nods. "Women don't work in combat."

"Says who?"

"This family. We have never let women participate in combat."

"Why not? We get the same training as the guys!"

"It's how it's done, Sofia. It's always been that way."

"Well, it's wrong," I tell him. "Give me one good reason why women can't fight."

"It's dangerous. No one wants to put women at risk."

"Why not?"

"Women are responsible for raising the next generation of the family. We cannot risk putting them in harm's way," he tells me. I scoff loudly.

"You sound like my father."

"Now is that all you came here for? Because I do not appreciate you interrupting my day."

"And I don't appreciate you being a sexist prick."

"Excuse me?" he furrows his brows, towering over me in anger. "Would you like to repeat that, Miss Delfino?"

"You cannot force women to live their lives a certain way," I insist. "You have to give them the same opportunities you would give anyone else."

"Sofia-."

"We aren't just housewives, Sainte. This is the 21st century, and I want all girls in this family to know that they can do whatever they set their hearts to."

"Fine. You can work on that when you're in charge."

Wait... What?

"I can?" I ask.

"Of course. Mia moglie will be my equal, Sofia. It's a partnership."

"Is it?" I push. "Because so far, you've just been treating me like a prisoner."

"Please," he looks away from me. "Don't exaggerate, Sofia."

"You kept me locked in my room all morning."

"I did indeed," he nods. "I had business to take care of, and I will not have you wandering around when I am absent."

"What?" I scowl. "Why not?"

"There are 78 men living in this compound, and I will not have you walking around unprotected."

"I'm not unprotected. Jordan's with me, like... 24/7."

"That's no guarantee. These men are trained to kill, Sofia. They're dangerous, and I guarantee you, they're intentions will not be clean."

"Then get better men," I snicker. Is he serious?

"This is not a game, Sofia," he insists. "You will not be hurt under my watch."

"Then you shouldn't keep me locked up in my room, either," I push. "I'm not a prisoner here, am I?"

"No, you are not."

"Then stop making me feel that way."

He purses his lips. Something flashes in his eyes, but it's gone before I can make out what it is. His expression hardens. He's impossible to read.

"You have no idea what you're dealing with, Sofia," he warns. "I did not bring you here to defy our laws and challenge my authority."

"Then why did you bring me here?" I ask.

"Because I requested your presence."

"Did you, or was this my father's idea?"

"Is that what you think?" he takes a step towards me, crossing his arms over his chest. I nod my head. "It was my idea, Sofia."

"Are you sure about that? Because it feels like you don't want me here at all."

"Don't be absurd," he tells me. "If I didn't want you here, I never would've let you into my home, and I absolutely would not have allowed you to step out of line."

"But you still want me to follow all your orders and treat you like you're the boss?"

"I am the boss."

"Not in this case," I state. "If we want to get to know each other and build a relationship, then you have to treat me like an equal."

"We're not-."

"I don't care if we're not married yet," I tell him. "It has to start now, or I'll pack my bags and go."

"And you think I'd just let you?" he snickers.

"Sainte!" I scold. This is exactly what I'm talking about.

"Fine," he says, but I can tell it's reluctant.

"Good."

"But only if you have dinner with me tonight," he adds. I raise my brows at him dumbfounded. Is he serious? He must've realised his mistake because he quickly rephrases his sentence. "I mean... have dinner with me tonight."

"Is that a question or an order?" I ask.

"A question."

"Good," I say. "In that case, yes."