by SR Jones
I don’t know what to say to such a bold declaration, so I simply smile and shrug. “It doesn’t matter. What happens in the past shouldn’t impact our future.”
I shoot Yannis what I hope is a placating smile. I can’t believe my father has dragged us here, where we have to simper and be polite, or run the risk of being fed to those dogs outside. Maybe that’s a touch dramatic, but I wouldn’t honestly put it past Lefteris now I am here squirming under his squinty gaze. I’d told Mother she was silly thinking the worst, now I’m not so sure.
One look in his beady, cruel eyes, and I get a good idea where his son gets his proclivities from.
We shouldn’t be here at all. Father’s made it ten times harder for me to say no to this marriage now.
“I’ll let you two go and talk while we adults discuss things.” Lefteris waves his hand toward the door, and Yannis stands and stalks to it, looking back once for me.
Dutifully, I follow him, but all the way into the hallway and up the stairs, I’m mentally giving him the middle finger.
He stops at a door on the first floor, pushes it open, and goes inside. I follow him in and wonder what the hell we’re supposed to talk about. For betrotheds, we’ve spent very little time together.
This is weird, as if we’re kids being sent off to play, not two adults whose futures are being discussed downstairs.
“Your mother has caused a fucking issue by calling here because of that shit in the paper,” Yannis snarls at me.
His anger takes me off guard. I expected fake apologies, not this.
He’s the one in the wrong. He’s the one who dated someone behind my back when we were supposedly promised to one another. He’s the one who let it get in the tabloids, and most damning of all, he’s the one who apparently treats women like utter shit.
“My mother is concerned for me, as any parent would be. The accusations are … they’re serious, Yannis.”
It takes me a lot of courage to say those words to him, but I won’t back down and simply pretend what he did isn’t abhorrent.
“Ah, I see, another bitch who believes all the other bitches. How do you know any of it is true? She’s an old hag who wanted to cling onto me, and she wasn’t happy when she found out I’d be marrying virgin pussy and not spending any more time balls deep in her.”
His ugly tone and uglier words piss me off, and the temper I possess, and try to keep a lid on because Mother says one day it will get me into trouble, boils over. “Don’t speak about her in such a disgusting way, and don’t ever, ever call me pussy again.”
A moment of triumph steals over me at the look of outrage on his smarmy face, but then I’m spinning around, and the air is knocked from my lungs.
I slam against the wall, my cheek smashed painfully against the cold, hard surface.
Yannis has one hand on the back of my head, pushing it against the wall. I think his knee must be in my back because something is, and it’s digging in painfully, pushing my lower body against the wall.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that, bitch. When we’re married, you’ll be mine. I can do anything with you I want. Do you get that? Now, luckily for you, I don’t have a lot of interest in boring little virgins with freaky hair. I’ll stick my dick in your virgin cunt a few times until you produce an heir, and then I won’t come near you. So long as you keep your fucking mouth shut, do what I say, and give me no trouble … as my wife, I’ll give you the courtesy of slaking my … unique appetites elsewhere. You keep vying for my attention with the spoiled little bitch routine, and I’ll show you how I like to play with women, and you won’t like it one bit.”
He reaches round to my front with his free hand and grabs my nipple, squeezing so hard saliva floods my mouth, and I cry out. He hasn’t only got my nipple but some of the flesh around, which makes it much more painful. “I’ll put clamps on places you’ve never even thought of, and I’ll tie you up until your hands are numb, and gag you until your jaw aches for weeks. I’ll beat this fat, disgusting ass until it’s black and blue. You understand me?”
He still hasn’t let go of my nipple, and I sob out a yes.
Immediately the pinch is gone, but even more pain floods in. I drop to the floor as his knee at my back and the hand at my head disappear.
I manage to stand, legs shaking, and turn to face him.
He’s as calm as anything, as if he didn’t just assault and threaten his wife-to-be.
I’m shaking, and tears are filling my eyes, but I know I can’t cry. I can’t go downstairs with my makeup ruined and my face a mess, because my mother will kick up a fuss, and we’ll have an almighty row with a family who are clearly fucked in the head.
They’ll probably put us on some sort of hitlist, or worse, start a war with my uncle, and then we might be left twisting in the wind if we’re seen as too much trouble.
I think Uncle Stamatis is frankly already at the end of his tether with our family. I’m not sure why, but he always seems as impatient with my mother as he is with my screw-up father. We’re like a cat with nine lives, and we’ve wasted eight. If a war is started because of our visit here, I wouldn’t put it past Uncle to simply withdraw his protection of us and let it be known.
I keep my eyes down, despite being so livid I could explode. This can’t escalate. Mom was right when she panicked. I think Yannis and his father are truly dangerous people. No way did Yannis get like this if his family are nice and normal. His mother is a broken woman, it’s clear to see. His father a cold and murderous mob boss. I think the best plan is for me to try to get myself together, to get out of here, and then to beg my mother to save me from marrying this psycho.
Surely, if I tell her what he did, as demeaning as it will be, she’ll do something to put a stop to this.
And then I can think about what I want to do with my life. I have no formal education beyond school, and no work experience, and if I’m not going to be a mob wife, I need to find something I can do to be useful, quickly.
First though, stop this marriage. And my mother is the person who can do that, because my father won’t. I know with sinking certainty that nothing Yannis can say or do, short of beating me black and blue so the whole world can see, will make my father stop this.
My mother is my only option.
If she can’t or won’t stop it. I’ll run.
We’ve been back at the house a couple of hours, and I’ve not had a chance to speak to Mother yet. I grab my moment when Father says he’s heading down to the café for half an hour. He’ll go drink some ouzo at the local taverna and play a game of Backgammon. He does this a few times a week, mixing with the old men in the neighborhood, pretending he’s a normal guy like them, and not the accountant for, and brother to, one of the biggest mob bosses in Greece.
The Greek mob isn’t like organized crime in other nations, as it tends to be less structured. But my uncle is one of the top guys, and to be honest, as Father said once, he’s more akin to a cartel boss than a local organized crime guy. Powerful enough he doesn’t have to mess around with stuff like drugs and prostitution. He is into bigger things. Moving money where it shouldn’t go, luxury goods, weapons. There is a rumor that if you want something, my uncle can facilitate getting it for you, no matter what. Anything. I don’t know how true it is, because most of what I’ve learned has come from Father, and his words are unreliable at best.
Any way you cut it, though, my uncle is a hard man, but now he’s my only path to salvation.
I want Mother to go beg my uncle to intervene.
No way will Lefteris go up against Stamatis, surely?
I go and find her, my heart in my mouth, but I have to tell her what he did. There’s a smoldering lump of shame sitting in my stomach that I somehow allowed him to do it to me. I know rationally it is silly to feel it, but it’s there, and I hate having to tell her what happened.
She’s in their room, so I knock on the door first.
When I enter at her come in, I burst into tears before I
can speak.
“Agapi Mou.” She calls me her love as she enfolds me in her arms. I can’t remember the last time she hugged me this way.
“I know, darling, shush. Today was difficult. But you know.” She pulls back a little and gives me a bright, fake smile, her arms still around me. “Maybe it won’t be as bad as we feared, you marrying Yannis. His father is well aware of his … behaviors, and says he won’t allow it in your marriage. The father has good control of the son, I think. Your father won’t hear of it being called off, but I feel better now Yannis’ behavior has been spoken of openly.”
“Mama.” I use the name I haven’t called her in years. Then I struggle out of her embrace and pull my top up, before taking my right breast out of my bra. I’ve already looked, and there’s a bruise forming all around the nipple.
Mum gasps when I hold it up for her to see. I start to cry again and put myself away, before I speak through my sobs.
“H-h-he hurt me. He pushed me against the wall so I could hardly breathe; he hurt my face. He called me awful things, and then he did that.” I’ve never been so embarrassed in my life. Mother and I don’t have a close relationship where I can discuss things like this easily, but I have to make her see.
“Please, Mama. Go speak with Uncle Stamatis. He’ll make it stop.”
She pales and begins to pace the room.
I can see she’s about to say no. It’s in every line of her face and body.
“You’re my mother, your one job in this world is to protect me. I understand, though, if you can’t do this. I’ll go and see him myself. Show him what this animal did to me, beg him for his protection. Or … I’ll leave. You can get me some money out of the savings account, and I’ll disappear.”
It’s not a bad idea. I speak English perfectly, and I even had a Brit teacher, unlike many Athenians who learn American English, so I could go to England. Or, I could go to one of the islands. Get a job, settle in there; I doubt it would take long for a local hottie to spot me and like me. Tons of British and German girls go to work on the Greek islands and end up married to a local boy, why not me? Hell, I could get some lighter highlights in my hair, cut it shorter, change my name, and pretend to be British, and that way Yannis and his family would be less likely to find me. I’d look different, get a new name, and pretend to be a different nationality.
“No.” Mother turns to me. “I can’t let you simply leave. No.”
She shakes her head, and there are tears in her eyes. She crosses herself. “God, what are we to do?” For a moment she looks heavenwards then turns to me again. “You’re right, you can’t marry him. I suppose I’d hoped it could be done with no harm to you, but…” She glances at my breasts and flinches. “What he did is sick. Stamatis is our only option. It’s just that … going to see him, it could change everything, and you’re going to find out some things you might not like, but you’re a big girl now, and you’ll have to deal with them, okay?”
I nod, unsure of what she’s talking about. Frankly, I don’t care. I don’t care if I find out Uncle Stamatis and Father are aliens, so long as it gets me out of this marriage. She gives me a firm nod in return.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
Then she’s heading out of her bedroom door, me trotting to keep up, pulling my top into place.
She calls out into the hallway. “Markos? We need you to drive us please. The chauffeur is not here, and we urgently need to go out.”
As we hit the downstairs landing, Markos comes out of the guardroom, and he’s got those damn worry beads swinging from his fingers.
“Where to, Mrs. K?” His voice is deep, nice even, but his face is so blank all the time he scares me. Damen is moody, Alesso is friendly, but this guy is … nothing. He’s a black hole where a person should be. I avert my eyes and look at the floor.
“I want to go to see Stamatis,” she says.
“Shall I tell Mr. Kantos where we are going?” Markos has his phone out as he speaks.
“No.” Mother puts her hand on his arm then pulls it away as if burned. “Sorry, but no. Please.”
“Okay.” He frowns, but doesn’t argue as he turns to walk through the kitchen toward our garage.
Inside the garage is the car the guys use to ferry us around. It’s my uncle’s and on loan to us. It’s big and black with dark windows, and normally our chauffeur drives while the guys sit guard in the back or up front. Now, though, Marko will be our chauffeur and guard. Two in one. He grabs the keys off a hook and presses the fob, releasing the doors.
Mother and I get into the back. She surprises me as we drive out of the garage and down the road by taking my hand and squeezing it.
I squeeze back then close my eyes and do something I’ve not done in years. I pray.
When we arrive at Uncle’s house, it’s dark, and for an awful moment, I think he’s not in, but then I see the light from the den shining out onto the far end of the lawn. I’d forgotten my aunt and two cousins are away for a week, visiting some of her family in New York.
Markos takes his phone out and makes a call. It’s answered by someone, and at first, I think it’s Uncle, until Markos calls whomever is on the other end a wanker and tells them to come get the door.
A few moments later, the door opens, and Alesso is there. My heart doesn’t do the usual little hitch it does at seeing him. My silly crush is pretty much in tatters after the last two days.
He jogs down the stairs and opens the door for Mother and me to climb out, me scrambling over the seat to get to her side to save him having to go around. Which he so would, that’s Alesso—through and through a gentleman.
“What’s going on?” Damen appears at the doorway, and my stomach lurches.
“I think that’s my question to ask, don’t you?” My uncle appears next to Damen, and despite the rebuke from his boss, Damen doesn’t seem perturbed.
“The family aren’t here, Marina.” He calls my mother by her first name, and I realize it’s not something he does often, because I can’t remember the last time he did.
“I know. We’re here to see you.” She stands her ground, but I can see her chest rising and falling rapidly. She’s nervous as hell, and for the first time, I think maybe I’ve put her in danger by asking her to do this. I’m Stamatis’ flesh and blood, if somewhat removed. Mother isn’t.
“We were having a meeting, but I’ll get rid of the men. Give me five minutes. You three stay.” He points to Damen, Alesso, and Markos.
I fidget under the bright glare of the security lights and glance up to see Damen watching me, a frown on his face.
Not wanting his scrutiny right now, I look away. Something about the man makes me feel as if he sees right through me. Through my pretense of being a hot bitch, to the messed-up pathways of my soul.
“Come inside,” Alesso says and steps back for us to enter the familiar hallway.
As a child, before I knew what Stamatis did, and before I understood this place held so many secrets, I used to love coming over here to play with my cousins. Then aged fifteen, I was hiding somewhere I shouldn’t have been, and I witnessed my uncle order Damen to kill a man with his bare hands. I hardly ever returned after that day. Always had something else to do if my parents were heading over. The few occasions I couldn’t get out of it, I’d sit with the adults, hands on my knees, the epitome of a good girl. I didn’t go exploring in this house anymore.
“Okay, they are gone. Come.” Uncle Stamatis gestures for us to follow him. He doesn’t take us to the den as I thought he would, but into his study. Damen, Alesso, and Markos are standing like sentries outside when he closes the door.
“Now, what is so urgent you come racing over here at this time of night?” He gives my mother a kindly look, but there’s something else underneath it. Almost … anger, I think.
“We need your help, Stamatis,” she says, her voice breaking before she clears her throat and carries on. “I would never come to you if there were any alternative.”
“I�
�m sure not.” He purses his lips as he watches us both, then he slides a drawer on his desk open. He’s taken out a checkbook and pen. “How much do you need? I know it can’t be easy with the way he spends money.”
My mother flushes and makes a small sound in the back of her throat, like a wounded baby bird.
“No. Stamatis, please, it’s not … no. I need your help. You have to, I mean … I’m asking you to stop the marriage.”
He sits back in his chair, steeples his fingers, and stares at my mother for a long beat before laughing.
“Are you mad? Stop the marriage? The marriage your husband begged me to arrange. The marriage that would cement your family’s lowly status by making your daughter one of the princesses of Athenian society. A marriage contract made, I might add, with a very dangerous man. You want me to simply stop it?”
“I didn’t ask you to arrange the marriage. Spiros did.” She refers to my father, and the second his name is out of her mouth, Uncle’s face twists into something akin to hate. He smirks, and it’s nasty and cruel.
“Yes, well, you didn’t stop him, did you?”
Why is he being so harsh?
“Stamatis, don’t do this. I am begging you. I know you have the power to stop it. I’ll get on my knees if that’s what it takes.”
His twisted smile grows. “I would quite like to see you on your knees.”
“I’ll do it. I’ll get on my knees and beg.” Mother holds her head up as she says the words, but her face is red.
I turn to her in shock. “No, no you won’t. I’ll leave. Go and live in London, or New York, or somewhere.”
“You think the Pappas family won’t find you there if they want to? Child, don’t be so naïve.” She turns to Stamatis again. “You must stop it. If you do then Lefteris and Yannis will have to accept it; you’re more powerful than them.”
“I can’t stop it. Not the way you think, we signed a deal. Literally, your husband signed a contract.”
I feel sick. They signed me over like a brood mare. Jesus.
“Okay, but she had to stay pure, right?” Mum says, nodding. “So, we’ll tell them she’s not pure and that she slept with someone else.”