Page 1 of Taken In Trade
Chapter One
Vanessa
Holidays in my house are never a bright spot, but this Christmas happens to be a lot tenser than years past. My father and older twin brothers are pissed that I haven’t fallen in line to complete my marriage contract with another mafia family. As a result, not one of them even got me a gift.
I’m an adult, so it’s not like they’re obligated to buy me Christmas presents, but they bought stuff for each other.
My mother left me a decent inheritance, meaning I can buy myself what I want. It’s still fucked up, and they know it.
The lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow when I think about my mom, so I refocus on not letting the men in my family know they’re getting to me. They’re excellent at emotional torture. They want to exclude and torment me. To make me feel like I’m on the outside so I’ll beg for scraps of affection.
My twin brothers, Vance and Victor, used to be better about pretending to care about me, but they’re determined to impress our father. They want to take over running the family, but they can’t do that until he officially hands over the reins.
“Did you maybe want to open one from me?” I ask, leaning forward in my seat on one of the club chairs. “I think I did a pretty good job of picking gifts for each of you.”
My father grunts and grabs one of the boxesnotin the pile I gave him.
My tongue rolls against the back of my teeth as I nod. Of course he’s not going to accept my olive branch.
I dart a look at my brothers but neither will make eye contact. They go back to opening gifts from each other, and my stomach tightens.
I shouldn’t let it get to me, but this is extra awful. They can be dead set on excluding me. It doesn’t mean I have to stick around and endure it, though. So I excuse myself and hide away in my room for the next several hours.
Christmas dinner was almost done cooking when I came upstairs, meaning they’re probably done eating by now, and I’m starving.
The leftovers are calling my name.
Eating alone is preferable to being forced to pretend that I want to play nice with the men in my house.
I make my way down to the kitchen via the back stairs. Covered trays lie on the kitchen island, and I open each to see what’s left.
My father’s voice filters through the air, and my name makes me suspicious and concerned all in one.
Kicking off my slippers, I sneak to the wall that leads into the formal dining room. I keep my back flat to the wall, and I don’t dare peek around, but I should be able to hear what’s being said.
“I understand what you’re saying, but are you sure you want to put us in bed with Grigoryan?” Vance asks.
“We can pay the penalty,” my other brother, Victor, chimes in. “It’ll hurt, but we can try to negotiate to keep the properties.” He means the properties my family gained from the O’Connors when our marriage contract was negotiated twenty-something years ago.
Also, what the fuck does he mean they can pay the penalty? They’ve spent five years telling me it would be the end of our family if they had to go through with repaying the O’Connors.
“There are no other options,” my father says in a stern, no-nonsense tone. “We’re not taking that kind of loss, and no one else is interested in taking on the full debt.”
“Grigoryan has a lot of enemies—” Victor starts.
My father cuts him off, saying, “And you think we don’t? I gave you a task. You failed to complete it. It’s Grigoryan or no one. As soon as the O’Connors officially back out, we will begin negotiations with Grigoryan. That’s the end of the conversation. Am I understood?”
My blood runs cold.
I knew he wasanoption, but I didn’t think he was theonlyoption. The number of times my brothers have assured me that they had everything under control is a lot.
Like more than a hundred.
They lied to my face to keep me from panicking.
My nightmares have come to life.
Under no circumstances will I go through with marrying that man.
