Ariella turned to him slowly. Anger was laced in her eyes. "I have dozens of marriage proposals. If you want to throw yours into the mix, write up a contract and send it to my secretary. I'll look it over and get back to you with my decision."
Her answer was no.
Her answer to all of them were no. Half of them likely planned to murder her on the wedding night anyhow.
"I'm not going anywhere with you, and if you think otherwise, you're delusional." She would have to be dragged out kicking and screaming before she went anywhere with him. With anyone for that matter. Or in a body bag.
"Your father arranged this. It's not like I want to be stuck with a child." Yurie sighs.
"Look, it's either you come with me, or I follow you everywhere until you break down and decide that maybe, just maybe, marrying me to keep your mafia and your life safe." he growls.
He stares the woman down, in front of the coffin of her father, watching. Waiting.
Ariella scoffed. "My father would never arrange something like that. I'm his eyes, no man would ever be good enough for me."
Her body turned towards the closed casket, arms wrapping around each other. She tapped her elbows, a nervous tick to tap. Her gaze was wholly stuck on the coffin in front of her.
"Unless you have proof, there is no arrangement, you don't get your bride or what you think belongs to you. Now, I'm going to have to ask you to leave or you will be escorted off the premises."
She wasn't sure if her guard would actually do that. They didn't like taking orders from women. The mafia was stuck in this era where women were secondary. They couldn't rule, they couldn't own. They were their father's property and then their husband's. There was only so much shebcould get by with before people started to revolt under her.
"In his eyes, I was. It was more a debt of honor than anything, however. My father saved his life. He called that debt in with me. Simple as that." Yurie explains.
As though he'd expected for her to be this difficult, he pulls out a signed contract, with his and Ariella's father's signatures on it.
"You'll find everything on there. I had hoped you wouldn't be difficult, however, I anticipated it." he says as he hands over the paper.
He watches her closely still, a predator focused on its prey.
Ariella took the paper from him gently. She took two steps back before opening and reading the words on the paper.
She read it once. Twice. Thrice.
Her legs gave out from under her and she slowly lowered to the ground. It was her father's writing, his signature. It was clear as day. There was always the possibility of forgery but she knew her father's handwriting. He used to leave her notes all over the house to keep her entertained when she was younger. He always wrote his As a particular way.
There was no stopping the sob that was wrenched from her. She raised her hand to try to muffle the sound. Even in his last days, her father was trying to control her. Sending her off to a man she had never met before. Did he even know if he was cruel? Or was her father just hoping for the best?
Yurie waits there, patiently, for his new wife to get up and calm herself.
He wasn't big on physical contact. Or comforting people. The only thing he really cared about was his mafia, soon to be expanded. He'd control two countries instead of one.
The thought makes him smile. It wasn't a nice smile.
After a while of Ariella sitting there, he squats down in front of her.
"Are you quite done yet?" he asks quietly.
Ariella raised her head to glare at him. Her makeup was smudged from her crying but she made no attempt to fix anything.
She glared at the man in front if her. Just another man to control her and lock her away. She had no intentions of ever being locked away and hidden ever again. She was a De Luca. She was the daughter of an empire. She was not sine play thing for everyone to control.
"You are cruel," she sneered. "You could have had the decency to wait until after. My father isn't even in the grave yet, pezzo di merda (you piece of shit)."
Yurie chuckles darkly.
"My dear, if you knew the accuracy of the words 'you are cruel' when said to me, you'd be hesitant to look at me like that. As for waiting after, there were 3 people here who were planning on shooting you. I had to protect you, per the conditions of my deal with your father. And as for the fun Italian insult you hurled at me. . . ho sentito molto peggio, quindi pensa a qualcosa di più creativo per chiamarmi." he replies without humour, pulling the girl roughly to her feet.
"Now, will you finally listen to reason and follow me?" he asks, straightening her clothes and hair with quick jerks of his fingers.
(I'm so glad Google translate exists)
(Same XD I know literally nothing of Italian)
Ariella yanked herself out of his grip. "And I think we both know you could have gotten rid of them subtly. You could have waited to drop such a thing on me."
At least he confirmed her suspension that someone was going to try to kill her there. Might as well throw her in the coffin with her father and make it a funeral for two.
"And where will you have me go? Back to Russia with you? I do not think so. Italy is my home. I will be staying here."
She didn't know anything else. She didn't know much more than her own home. She never left her house other than the few picnics she was allowed on to get some fresh air. Occasionally, if her father was in a good mood, she would get to go horseback riding and take the trails through the acres of land they owned.
"Yes, I could have, but this was quick. Subtlty is such a pain at times, particularly when there are no rafters or buildings across the street. Or really any streets, for that matter." Yurie says, straightening the cuffs of his suit.
"I would have thought you would be eager to leave the country and explore. After all, being cooped up here can't have felt good." he says slyly, examining his nails.
He was feigning any semblance of human emotion very well. He'd been taught by the best actors.
"And besides, don't you want to see what a place like Russia is like? It has just as rich a history as anywhere else, if not more so." he adds.
Ariella sneered. "Italy is my home. It is the language I speak. It is my culture. I will not go with you, not anywhere."
Her hands clenched into fists at her side. She threw the contract at the man in front of her. She didn't care what her life had been like previously. She refused to go to abnew country where she knew no one. She would fight tooth and nail against it.
If Yurie thought he was getting an obedient wide, he had another thing coming for him. It didn't matter that she had been sheltered. She had a mind of her own and she was stubborn as a mule.
"I'm going home now. It's been a long day."
"Mm-hmmm. Noted. Then I shall go with you. That is the terms of my contract." Yurie shrugs, catching the contract easily and folding it back up.
"Again, I shall follow you." he nods, no longer bothering to pretend human emotion. His voice goes flat and dead, his face goes blank, and his eyes become chilling and broken.
He'd brought no guards, only clothes. He'd expected difficulty on Ariella's part. He'd only wished she'd been willing to go to Russia.
Ariella turned on her heel, not giving him a second look. Her guards trailed behind her as she exited the church and towards the awaiting car. Her aunt had since left and she was grateful, she didn't need anyone more than necessary seeing her breakdown.
She ducked into the armored car and found her seat. She expected that Yurie was going to join her in the car. She did not want to be in close contact with this man, much less the same car. She wanted to put as much distance between them as possible.
"My father is dead. There is no one left to uphold this marriage. You can leave. Back out anytime and no one need know."
Yurie follows close behind the woman, slipping into the car right after Ariella.
"False. I am left to uphold the marriage." he counters, staring her down.
He didn't make a habit of backing out of deals. Neither had his father.
His father was dead. He would not die for a good while.
"Now, as for living arrangments. We won't share a bed - you probably won't allow it. However, I shall sleep on the floor of your room, and every other day we will shift your room to a new part of the house. I will cut the number of armed guards on the premises, and that follow you outside the house. I will take their place. You are allowed to leave the house whenever you'd like, but you will notify me first. Is all this understood?"
Ariella scoffed and shook her head, looking out the window. She kept her gaze on the outside world, taking it in as they drove. It was all knew it to her. It was overwhelming.
"And why, pray tell, will we be moving to different rooms every other day? I have no need for you to sleep on my floor or in my room for that matter. There are plenty of bedrooms you can take up as your own. You can take my father's room if you please. It's the biggest. You can use it as you'd like."
There was a fat chance she would notify him of her comings and goings. She had had babysitters her whole life, guards and maid's watching her twenty-four seven. She was finally free. She would do as she pleased and there was no stopping her.
"Because it is a simple solution to the conundrum of someone finding our address and kidnapping you. If you have a new room every other day, they cannot possibly kidnap you, because you have no fixed room. As for me sleeping on your floor, it is merely a precaution against any insiders we may have. After all, loyalties can change, especially when command changes. On top of that, I have no intentions of taking your old man's room. I am not seeking to replace him." Yurie explains simply.
No. He merely planned on making sure noone besides Ariella remembered there was someone to replace. After all, how can someone respect the ghost of someone if they can't remember they had to?
Ariella shook her head. His logic made no sense to her. How could she have her own space and privacy if she was constantly moving rooms? Her room was her space. She had made her room hers. She had turned her prison into a comfortable home. She was always changing it, always something knew. She had to stare at the se four walls everyday, she might as well mix it up.
She crossed her legs and clasped her hands in her lap, picking at the shorn nails. She wanted to shower. She wanted to dress in sweats. And she wanted to go to bed. She had no appetite for food. She hadn't for days. She noticed she had been losing weight rapidly but she found she didn't care. Her nice figure was disappearing by the day but it was the least of her worries.
Yurie tilts his head at Ariella.
"It may not make sense to you, but you know it is smart. If I'm reducing the number of guards around you, it's the least that needs to be done."
He swats at her hands.
"Stop picking. It is harmful and it ruins your fingers. I don't care if it makes you look less beautiful. Scars can come in handy. But I do not tolerate self-destruction just for the sake of itself." he snaps.
"And when we get home, I will prepare a meal. I am dismissing the cooks and waitstaff. They cannot be trusted." he adds.
Ariella turned her head to him sharply. She inhaled. She wasn't used to people getting on to her about her having. She was never in public for it to matter. She straightened her fingers against the fabric of her dress, gripping the material.
"You cannot dismiss my staff. They are mine. I hired them. I pay them. They are loyal to me. You cannot swoop in and change everything. There is already an order." She said firmly.
She would not allow him to come in and change everything. They had order. They had routine. He couldn't disrupt everything that she had done. The house was hers. She ran it.
Yurie raises an eyebrow.
"What? Not used to being reprimanded about that, are you?" he asks.
"They are no longer your staff. I can very well do what I want. I am not a very trusting man, even more so when it comes to the handling of my food. Nobody has dared to try anything, but it's better safe than sorry. And the order that's been established can very well be changed. I did it in Russia, I will do it here." he replies, leaving no room for argument.
"Questa non è fottuta rusia," Ariella muttered under her breath.
She didn't care if he over heard her. She didn't care who heard her or the consequences. She drummed her fingers on the arm rest, watching as the city faded into the trees and they neared her home.
The country side was beautiful, there was no doubt. But she had came to loathe it. It was all she ever saw. Trees and hills and grass and meadows. There was nothing else. Nothing around. She was isolated through and through.
And while it was smart to have their home hidden, despite the circumstances, she wished she wasn't on such a short leash.
She saw the house appear in the distance, growing larger with each foot as they approached. It was a ten bed, six bath, complete with a media room, a full kitchen and bar, a living room, a sitting room and several offices. Such a large home foe only a father and daughter, along with their staff.
"Non ho mai pensato che fosse la Russia. Né ho insinuato che pensassi che lo fosse." Yurie snaps.
He watches the countryside roll by, then turns his gaze once more to Ariella.
"Sembra che entrambi amiate e odiate questo posto. Più amore che odio, ma c'è ancora odio." he notes, watching the way her body seems to relax mostly, with a few cores of tension, mainly in her shoulders and neck.
Ariella took a moment before turning her head back to him. She tilted her head, in thought.
"It is my home, for better or worse. It is beautiful, isolated. There are many rooms to entertain oneself. I have many fond memories. But it has also been my prison. I have left the estate grounds only a handful or times because of my father's fear. And while I would prefer to stay in my home, I want to be free. I don't want to be confined in my rooms or otherwise the house. It's lonely and boring." She looked at him, truly studied him.
"Perhpas some day I'll sell it, or buy a new house elsewhere. Have them both. But this is what I know. I would like to stick with that."
