His Kryptonite

Chapter 3

Laila's POV

"Papà!" I burst into my father's office, gasping for breath.

"Laila, where have you been? I've been looking for you," Papà says, rising from his seat.

"Sit down, because you're not going to be happy about what I'm about to tell you. I think Michael Rizzuto hates me!" I blurt out, collapsing onto one of the black sofas opposite his desk.

My heart is still pounding from my encounter with Michael in the hallway. The way he grabbed my wrist, his icy cold stare... If he treated me like this for trying to be nice, I can only imagine what he does to his enemies. I definitely don't want to be on the receiving end of that.

Papà resumes his seat, his expression troubled. "What did you do to him? I told you to stay quiet. Did you talk to him?"

"I just asked him how he was doing!" I defend myself, appalled by the accusation.

Papà rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Knowing you, you must have said more than that."

"So what's the deal? Does he want to execute me?" I ask, a mix of curiosity and amusement in my voice.

His frown deepens, clearly not finding my comment funny at all. "It's my fault. I underestimated the situation by allowing you into that meeting. You're not ready."

I feel a tightness in my throat as I take in my father's serious expression, a wave of shame washing over me for disappointing him. I understand the risk he took by bringing me into that meeting. While women do have a place in the Cosa Nostra, it's rare and always stirs controversy. I had one job: to avoid drawing unwanted attention, and I failed miserably.

"There are certain things that you just can't say or do when you're in the presence of a boss, Laila. You need to show respect," Papà emphasizes.

Nervously, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "I felt like I respected him."

"He doesn't feel the same way."

I gasp. "He told you? What did he say? Tell me quickly, I can handle it."

"Nothing we didn't already know."

Papà's expression darkens, and I know exactly what that means. It's the dreaded marriage talk, the unspoken topic hanging in the air. He despises it as much as I do, which is why we've been avoiding it for so long.

"You've caught Michael's attention now, and... you know how things work in this world."

I nod, refraining from making him feel worse than he already does. I know that if Papà could find a way to release me from this duty, he would. Thankfully, he isn't forcing me to marry a specific person. His only request is that I choose someone from within the clan, preferably someone who isn't involved in the street activities.

A few other sons of made men have managed to be shielded from this life and pursue their studies. Papà wants me to consider one of them. The problem is, unlike them, I don't attend the events where the organization gathers. As a result, I've never had the chance to talk to them. Papà and I understood that if I were to attend these gatherings, someone might take an interest in me. Depending on their status, I could be compelled into a marriage I didn't want. Before I knew it, my studies would be abandoned, and I'd find myself confined to the role of a submissive housewife.

I have friends from college and other events that bring me joy. It was a sweet escape while it lasted, but deep down, I always knew I would eventually have to bid farewell to that lifestyle and align myself with my bloodline. It just happened so abruptly, and now I'm uncertain if I'm truly ready. If I'm being fair, I thought I still had a good one to two years of freedom left.

"I didn't want to rush you, cara mia," Papà says, as if he had read my thoughts.

"Papà, don't worry. I'm insignificant to Michael Rizzuto. Soon, he'll forget about me not being married. I just have to stay out of his way."

He looks at me with deep uncertainty. "Michael Rizzuto is not someone you toy with. He's even more ruthless than his father, Vito. What he demands must be fulfilled."

I realize that my father genuinely fears Michael, and I can't help but roll my eyes. "I don't understand his whole demeanor. Why is he so rude? Che brutto," I exhale in frustration.

Papà's eyes widen. "Laila Scorsese!" he says in an authoritative tone. I sit up straight, sensing that he's not playing around anymore. When Papà gets in this mood, I am abruptly reminded of who he truly is, a made man. "If you keep running your mouth like this, you'll get yourself killed in no time. I've been too lenient, too permissive with you," he says, shaking his head.

I take slow breaths, trying to compose myself.

"Respect is the utmost important thing in this organization, and you cannot speak about the boss in that manner, not even behind his back. Walls have ears. You never know who might be listening. Next thing you know, your tongue is cut off while you're asleep in your bed. I'm telling you this because I've witnessed it happen."

I bite my lower lip, feeling inadequate. My father has repeated these things to me countless times, yet I just made a slip-up right in front of him. Perhaps spending all these years with ordinary people has indeed taken a toll on me. Today, I've been warned too many times, and I am determined to make the necessary adjustments.

"I'm sorry, papà," I say ruefully.

"It's okay," he reassures, his voice filled with concern. "I worry about you, Laila. I want you to find a decent man who treats you right. Until then, I can't help but worry. I don't want you to end up stuck in a loveless relationship that you didn't choose for yourself, forced to endure a lifetime of misery."

I rise from my seat and move behind my father, encircling his strong frame with my arms and planting a tender kiss on his cheek. "Don't worry, Papà. I've got this under control. Everything will work out just fine."

He places his hand over mine, his touch a mixture of doubt and affection. Deep down, I know he's skeptical, but I'm determined to prove him wrong. My father, always the protector, has a soft spot for me. My older brother, Vincenzo, constantly teases him about how he turned soft the moment I was born—his one and only daughter. Apparently, before that, he was tough as nails, a side of him I've rarely glimpsed. Being his weakness, I strive to keep his blood pressure in check.

I'll do whatever it takes to keep him content. However, I'm confident there's no need to rush. Michael Rizzuto has a long list of obligations to attend to, and soon enough, he'll forget all about me, if he hasn't already.