The Chinese Lantern Bride Ch. 01

This is a multi-part series about a widower who finds himself in possession of a mail-order bride.. who -- doesn't exactly turn out the way he expected. Gianna finds herself in a bad situation, and Anthony finds himself in a particularly sticky mess. How will the cards play out for this unwitting pair?

This chapter starts out a little slowly, but there is a bit of a non-consensual action near the end. Just a taster for what's to come!

All characters are 21 years and above.

Chapter 1

"If you step out of that door, you are no daughter of mine."

Gianna's hand froze on the door knob, warm tears rolling down her face. Turning around, she looked into a pair of emerald green eyes - eyes that had watched her grown all her life -- and saw only stone cold resolution.

"Papi," she fought to keep her voice stable. "I love you, but I am sorry. I will not marry Antonio Martello. I will not marry a man who I despise."

"Gianna, principessa. Enough of this talk of leaving." Gianna choked back a sob as her mother wrapped her arms around her shoulders. "Listen to your Papi. He only means the best for you."

"For me, Mamma? Or for this family?" She cringed as she saw the hurt spread across her mother's face but steeled herself as she glared at her father. "You only care about the status of our family! I am your daughter, not some commodity or step on the social ladder."

Gianna took an involuntary step back. The sun streamed through the stained glass windows over the arched doorway, illuminating the anger on her father's face.

"You have come of age, Gianna. It is time for you to marry," Mariella stroked her daughter's hair coaxingly.

"Mamma, Antonio is a monster. His wealth is built on the backs of those under his employ. Giuseppe has been toiling to raise his young children since his wife died, even with that bad leg of his. He needed his wages, but Antonio cheated him of it before casting him out."

"Nonsense!" Gianna winced. Gabriel Delucca had always been a loving father but in his anger, each word hurt as much as a slap on her face. "Antonio is one of the most influential men in Barri and Giuseppe is but an elderly widower with a weakness for a bottle. To think you would listen to the ranting of a drunk! Did I raise you to be an idiot?"

"You raised me to be a human being, with a conscience!" Gianna cried as she flung her suitcase to the ground in a temper. Drawing herself to her full height, she looked up at her father. "I would sooner stay single than marry him."

"You preposterous little-" her father burst into a coughing fit as he shook an angry finger at her.

"Gabriel, calm yourself," Mariella walked over to her husband, clasping his white face with one hand as she patted his back with the other. Gabriel sighed as he leaned into her caress. He sat heavily down on the sofa and pulled her along with him, clasping her hands in his own.

"Fine," he sighed. "But Antonio will not be pleased. We will need a reason to decline his proposal in a way in a way that does not offend him." He looked at Gianna thoughtfully. "You will travel to England and join The Little Company of Mary."

"A convent?" Gianna's heart sank. "Papi, I don't want to be a nun."

"Well, what do you propose?" Gabriel's voice was thick with bitterness. "No man in Barri will risk offending Antonio with a counter proposal."

"There is something," Gianna smoothed her gown nervously, digging her fingers into the soft velvet fabric. "I have a job offer, Papi. To be a governess for a family. In America."

"America!" Gabriel spat, as though the word was an expletive.

"Yes, Papi," Gianna hurried, her words tumbling out in a rush. "I have my savings-"

"You will go to the convent or you will marry Antonio!" he roared, clenching his fists as he sprang up. He glared into his daughter's red eyes. "And that is my final say."

"Final say?" Gianna's voice was bleak and echoed thinly in the great room. She turned to her mother who sat silently on the sofa. "Mamma?"

"Cucciola mia, you must listen to your father," her mother refused to meet her eyes.

Her mother's reticence pushed Gianna's temper over the edge. "I will not live a life as a mindless prisoner, I will not become you -"

Gianna was thrown back by the force of the slap, its sound lingering in the deafening silence that followed. Her cheek throbbing from the impact, she realized the shock and rage she felt was mirrored in her father's face.

"Gianna," Mariella ran towards her daughter but was stopped by her husband. Gabriel's mouth was set in a thin line, his chest heaving.

"Papi," Gianna whispered, her hand to her face in an attempt to absorb the blow. She watched as her father strode to the door, and flung her suitcase out.

"You are no longer welcome in this house."

"No, Papi," Gianna ran to him, her hands clutching urgently at his coat lapels. He shoved her roughly in the direction of the door.

"Leave."

Mariella's voice rose in a wail in the background, but all Gianna could focus on was her father's impassionate face.

"Papi, please. No," she protested wildly, as he grabbed her by the arm and pushed her out. "Papi!"

Gabriel held out a restraining hand. "Don't call me that. From this day forth, you are no longer my daughter. I, Gabriel Delucca, am childless."

"No," Gianna whispered as the door slammed in her face. She knocked desperately, her fists thumping painfully against the study wood.

"Papi! Mamma!" There was no response. Gianna felt the earth falling beneath her feet.

"Papi! Mamma!"

"Gianna?"

A voice broke into her frenzied train of thought.

"Good heavens, Gianna! Stop that."

Gianna sobbed uncontrollably. Her heart clenched, the pain coursing through her veins like poison.

"Gianna! Oh godamnit, WAKE UP!"

Gianna sat up straight in bed, her eyes blinking at the sudden brightness. Her breath escaped in gasps as she took in her surroundings. She was lying on a thin mattress in a dingy little bedroom. A soft ray of light broke through grime coated windows, illuminating the specks of dust floating about her worn copy of Anderson's Fairytales on her bedside table.

"Are you alright?" a tentative voice asked. She turned and saw a slight Chinese woman sitting next to her, concern apparent in her almond shaped eyes.

"Feng Ling," she croaked, her voice heavy with sleep. "I'm fine, it was... just a nightmare."

Smiling, her roommate reached out a hand and smoothed the hair stuck on Gianna's sweaty forehead to the side.

"It must be the nerves," she mused in her musical voice. "Well, come on then. Breakfast's ready and you don't want to be late for your new job!"

The weight over Gianna's heart lifted. "Oh! Right!" She threw the covers off and ran to the window. The sun was rising over the New York skyline. She turned back and grinned at her friend.

"Well, today's the day! My new life begins."

++++++++

As Anthony walked into the store, an overwhelming cloud of sickly sweet incense rushed up his nose causing him to cough.

"Well, well," a dry voice greeted him. "Look what the cat dragged in."

"Ethan," Anthony tipped his hat at the store's proprietor while avoiding the statue of a stone lion at the door. "I see that your olfactory senses are as stilted as usual."

Ethan scoffed as he walked around the store counter. "You wouldn't know quality if it knocked you on your nose. This here's an import from Mumbai. The very best!"

Anthony laughed as he clapped the man on the back. "Ah, it's good to see you again, my old crusty friend."

Ethan raised his eyebrows. "Likewise, I'm sure. Now what are you doing all the way down here? You know you can just fill in one of those mail catalogues."

His eyes wandering over the well-stocked shelves of exotic knick knacks, Anthony mused, "Yes, well, I needed to get away for a bit. Clear my mind, you know." Eyeing him critically, Ethan set down the jadeite statue of a cat he had been polishing.

"Suppose you join me in my study," he suggested, tipping his head towards a curtained door way. Anthony shook his head. "Wouldn't that affect your business with no one at the store front?"

"Ah, Anthony," Ethan chuckled as he walked over to the door and flipped the store sign. "We both know that you're the only rich simpleton who keeps my business afloat."

"That is true," Anthony admitted as he followed Ethan's tubby form past the lush velvet curtains.

He sank into a leather armchair and accepted the shot of whisky that his friend offered him. Taking the seat opposite him, Ethan peered over his spectacles.

"Now speak. What brings you all this way over the border? I know you didn't come all this way to insult my furnishings."

Anthony downed the whisky in one gulp, the alcohol setting his throat on fire. "I've reached a new low, Ethan."

"Pray tell."

"Well, so I went down to the old bed house and managed to procure these lovely set of... comfort women. Both steaming hot and beautiful, with full breasts and the tightest little cunts I ever did fuck. Excuse my language."

Ethan banged the table in mirth. "Well, that's the language of saints to me. So what seems to be the problem? You fucked the whores, and yet for some reason, you're here bellyaching to me. Something must have gone wrong in between."

"That's just the thing," Anthony leaned forward. "They were the perfect pair. One was feisty and explicit, the other was obedient and submissive. It's like any chap's dirtiest fantasy."

"You sure know how to give a man green-eye." Ethan filled an ivory pipe with tobacco. "Here, got a light?"

Anthony tossed a box of matches across the mahogany table. "Here's the thing. It's just not satisfying anymore. I had the best case scenario thrown at me, and I still felt empty as all hell." He rubbed his eyes wearily. "I think I'm done with life, Ethan. There's only so much joy I can get out of collecting these curios and I'm fast turning into an antique myself."

"Seems to me," Ethan chewed on his pipe thoughtfully. "That either you're suffering from an early onset of barrel fever or you need something more than a whore or a hobby."

"Oh yeah?" Anthony raised her eyebrows. "And what's that?"

Ethan pushed himself off the chair and lumbered heavily to a bookshelf. Muttering to himself as he pawed through the files, he snorted in triumph as he found what he was looking for. Tossing an envelope on the table, he twinkled at Anthony.

"I was saving this for your name day, but here. There's what you need."

Anthony reached for the envelope and pulled a stack of papers from it. "The Halcyon Matrimonial Co. procures desirable partners for those romantically inclined," he read aloud. Raising wide eyes to his smug friend, Anthony thumped the notice with his fist. "This is your answer? A mail order bride?"

"A wife, Anthony. Compliant, caring and one hundred percent yours. And best of all, willing." Ethan gestured to the envelope. "I found one that particularly suits your exquisite tastes. The settlement sum was high, but it's no penny over what I owe you after decades of business partnership and friendship."

"Feng Ling, Age 20. A compliant, obedient Chinese sparrow yearns to serve a Western stallion," Anthony read incredulously. "You found a Chinese mail order bride?"

"Indeed," Ethan's broad face was smug. "A Chinese Lantern Bride for the Chinese Lantern Hotel's owner. Could anything be more perfect?"

Anthony skimmed the rest of the advert, several phrase catching his attention. "Slim and soft, untouched by no man," he read. "By God, a virgin?" He looked at his friend in alarm. "You know my inclinations. How can a virgin be a good idea?"

"So you'll deflower, awaken and educate her, you love a challenge." Ethan shrugged. "Come on Anthony, you need this. And not just for the sex. You're getting old, my friend. The Wild West is dusty, and its woman are scarce. Who's going to care for you when you're hobbling with a stick and coughing your lungs out?"

Anthony was torn. "I don't know. Anyway, she's all the way from," he squinted at the paper. "New York. Ah. It'll take months for just the correspondence to happen. I have time to think about it."

"On the contrary, she's probably boarding the train as we speak," Ethan laughed as Anthony stiffened in shock. "Come now, I told you I've handled the settlement. All fees are paid, the train ticket is sent and she's on the way to you now."

"This is madness," Anthony spluttered, his hands gripping the ends of his chair as his fingernails left marks on the leather upholstery.

"It's been years since Esther passed. Annie is a mother herself now, all grown up and away in Markleeville. It's time you started living your life properly again. Open your heart to someone else."

"Love makes you weak," Anthony intoned resolutely. "I can't do that. I can't go through that kind of pain again."

"Hey, no one said anything about love. It's a possibility, that's all it is. Anyhow, if you find her unsuitable, you can just break off the engagement and send her packing. Just do me a favour, and don't say no until you've given it a fair shot."

Ethan quirked a questioning eyebrow at him. Anthony sighed.

"Oh alright then. I'd say thank you, but I just know this is going to be bag of nails."

"Well, that's the fun, isn't it? Another drink to celebrate, I think." Ethan rose and reached for the bottle of whisky.

"Wait," Anthony thumbed through the forms. "There isn't a picture of her?"

"Nope! Blind matches only."

Anthony was exasperated. "Then how do you know she's who she says she is?"

"Faith, old man. Faith. And a fair touch of derring-do."

Anthony shook his head. "That, and a full bottle of your finest whisky."

++++++++

Gianna hummed a merry tune, her hair flying as she pranced down the sidewalk in excitement. If everything went well with the interview today, tomorrow would mark the beginning of her new life as a governess in America. "Two children, ages ten and twelve," she read from the paper that the agency had sent her. Letting out a squeal of delight, she did an unladylike hop over a bump in the cobblestone path and giggled.

Stopping to look at a road sign, she confirmed that the house was just around the corner. "Come on," she told herself as she smoothed down her dress. She was wearing her best silk dress with a flowing skirt that cascaded down her hips. The high collar was professional and she had complemented that by taming her dark curls into a sleek chignon. "You can do this, Gianna Delucca. You can be the best governess any family has ever had."

Taking in a deep breath, she turned the corner.

"What?" Her eyes widened in dismay.

The only house within miles was an abandoned old cottage with a garden overrun with weeds. A rusty gate lay creaking off its hinges.

"Impossible," she plucked the letter out of her purse and scanned through it quickly. "I know I double checked the address."

A quick confirmation assured her that this was indeed the address that she had received from the agency. "Alright now, don't panic," she took in deep breaths in an attempt to hold the wave of hysteria at bay. "This must be a simple mistake. I'll just go back down to the agency, clarify everything and telephone the family from there to let them know I'll be late."

Satisfied with her plan, Gianna turned and hailed a cab. During the journey, she occupied herself by playing with the cameo on her necklace. It was a gift from her grandmother, one of the few items that she had packed with her before her father had thrown her out of the house. As the scenery flashed before her, she gripped the porcelain piece in determination. Everything has to work out, she thought fiercely. It has to.

This had always been the goal. Establish a successful life in America, find a good husband and one day return to Italy to prove herself to her parents. She knew their anger would dissipate into acceptance once she proved herself.

"Well there's a right crowd now," the driver rasped. He tilted his head towards the crowd that had lined up haphazardly on the sidewalk. "Are you sure this is the right place, missy?"

Gianna broke out of her daydream and looked out of the window. "Oh no," she gasped. Hastily throwing some notes at the driver, she hopped out and took in the scene in dismay.

"Cheaters!"

"We want our money back!"

The angry mob had their attention focused on one store along the entire street. The agency which had gotten her the governess job. Its glass shop front had been garishly covered in red paint. The store itself was empty.

"Excuse me," Gianna grabbed at the elbow of the nearest woman. "What's going on here?"

"Didn't you hear? That darn store owner has ran off with our money. All the fake jobs and void contracts!" The woman's voice rose into a scream.

"No!" Gianna felt her heart sinking to her feet. "No, it can't be."

"Did they get you too, then, missy?" A man who had overheard their conversation nodded at her. "You'd best start making new plans. I've seen this happen before. No one has ever gotten their money back. I hope you weren't fool enough to make the full payment up front."

She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood. "They told me it was the only way I could secure a job."

The man whistled. "Well, good luck to you then, missy. You'll need it."

Gianna walked back to her apartment in Chinatown in a daze. She had spent all her savings on engaging the agency to get her this job. As she entered the door, she barely registered the screaming match that was ensuing between Feng Ling and her mother in the kitchen. All that she wanted to do was crawl under the covers.

After lying on her bed and staring at the ceiling for what felt like hours, Gianna heard the door creak open.

"Hey, you got back early." Feng Ling called out to her as she flopped on the opposite bed. She tossed an envelope at Gianna. "This came in the mail for you."

Turning her head to nod in gratitude, Gianna started as she took in her friend's face. Feng Ling's eyes were puffy and her cheeks were white and tear stained.

"What happened to you?"

The girl sniffled. "My ma informed me that she has accepted an offer. I've been sold, by my own mother, as a mail order bride. I'm leaving for Nevada tomorrow."

"What?" Gianna sat up in shock, her own problems forgotten for the moment. "That's horrible!"

"That's not even the worst part," Feng Ling's voice trembled as she fought back tears. She met Gianna's gaze with shaky determination. "I'm gay, Gianna. You know what that means? I like women, not men."

Gianna nodded, confirming what she had already suspected. She had noticed her friend's eyes lingering on her curves all too often.

"I can't imagine being married to a man, having to satisfy him. I can't imagine having to spend the rest of my life, living a lie."

"Ling, that's terrible," Gianna's heart went out to her friend. Feng Ling shook her head and laughed.

"Well, go on and read your letter. I'd like a moment in silence, to process the evil turn that my life has taken."

"Of course," Gianna murmured, lowering her eyes as she tried to give her friend the privacy that she needed to cry.

Opening the letter, there was nothing that Gianna could do to prepare herself for the third and worst shock of the day. Her muffled cry of distress caught her friend's attention.

"What is it? What does it say?"

"My Papi, he's dreadfully ill. He needs treatment immediately but my mother says he lost their savings to gambling. She's asking me for a loan."

"Well, how did your job go? You should have received a nice sum of money when they confirmed your employment."

"That's the thing. There is no job. The agency cheated me and countless others of our money."

"No!" Feng Ling's eyes widened.

"She says that they'll have to take a loan from Antonio Martello if I can't help them with the money."