He's Strong. He's Hot. He's Foreign. (And He's in the Mafia?)

“I can’t take it anymore!” I exclaimed, curling up into the black leather car seat, desperately trying to find one comfortable position.

“I never knew you could be so restless, darashya” he smirked, reaching a hand over to rub my leg comfortingly.

We had started out for Kentucky at six o’clock in the morning and were now speeding down the Garden State Parkway in Peter’s shiny new black Mercedes SUV an hour later.

“Shouldn’t you call your brother and let him know that we’re coming?” he asked, looking over at me.

“No, I’m trying to put off coming into any contact with my brother, thanks” I muttered, reaching back and grabbing a meal bar out of my bag. Peter was forcing me to get my three meals a day now that he had discovered I only weighed 95 pounds.

“How could a pastry chief weigh so little? I don’t want to see you on a feeding tube Janey” he said after I weighed myself last night, standing by the scale and shaking his head. After that, he went to the store and bought me cartons of these ‘meal bars’. At least they tasted like chocolate chip cookie dough.

“Jane, when was the last time you talked to your brother?” he asked exasperated, glancing at the thumb-shaped bruise on my neck a lá Jeremiah before focusing on the road once more.

“3 years ago” I replied, staring out the window, biting down on my bar.

“Not to sound stupid, but I think he deserves another chance” Peter said reasonably, “He is your closest family after all”

“He was responsible for me getting bullied throughout high school, you know he told a bunch of guys to lock me in a broom closet? I had to stay in there for 5 hours until the janitor accidentally found me when he was looking for a mop! That’s right! No one went looking for me! He also convinced everyone in the whole school to act like I didn't exist! Even the teachers!” I exclaimed, my voice shrill.

“People change Jane…I’m not saying what your brother did is excusable, I’m just saying everyone is capable of remorse” he sighed.

“He doesn't care Peter! He loves making my life hell, and he’ll find some reason why we can’t get married I know it” I muttered, slumping back in the seat.

“Now that is intolerable” he smirked, gripping my hand, “Nothing will keep me from you”
“Jane…Janey wake up, we’re here” Peter whispered, shaking my shoulder gently.

“Where?” I mumbled, my eyes flickering open. I raised my head and rubbing my eyes, looking out the window to see everything I had left behind three years ago.

The house hadn't been physically altered in anyway, but I automatically sensed something significantly different. The yellow paint was still chipped. The white shudders still hung crookedly from the windows. Trees were everywhere. The barn was still dilapidated and the silo was still going unused. The corn was in full harvest, but everything looked…smaller. Now that I lived in New York, I knew the farm wasn’t the entire world. There were lands beyond the post office and Jeremiah most certainly wasn’t my all-powerful ruler.

With newfound confidence, I leapt out of the SUV, Peter right behind me, and marched towards the front door, ready to face my estranged brother. I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, Peter’s hand sliding into mine, squeezing it reassuringly.

“Goddamnit Mitch you know I have no idea where Diane is!” I heard a hoarse, familiar voice call from the other side of the door in a slight southern drawl, the accent I had almost exposed of.

“Jeremiah…it’s Jane” I said, struggling to raise my voice.

Dead silence rang out and I could feel the mixed emotions radiating from my brother inside the house. He was gonna be so angry. My hand involuntarily went to the bruise on my neck, rubbing it. I could hear feet stomping closer and closer to the door until it was opened, only leaving the screen door with a huge tear down the middle between me and Jeremiah.

My brother’s tired eyes met mine and I could almost see flames igniting, flames that were three years forgotten. Jeremiah hadn’t changed one bit to me. His sandy brown hair was still sticking out in odd places. He still wore flannel shirts, torn jeans and combat boots. His face was still sullen and mean.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Janey?” he asked, his voice more exasperated than angry. He was catching glances at Peter, who was around four inches taller than him.

“Jeremiah…this is Peter” I gulped and continued, “My fiancé”

Jeremiah’s expression didn't change, but his eyes were now set on Peter, scrutinizing. I could hear Peter smirk. He stepped in front of me, holding out his hand.

“Pleasure to meet you” he said. His Russian accent was even more apparent against Jeremiah’s southern twang.

Jeremiah raised an eyebrow and looked over at me, not acknowledging Peter’s attempt to shake hands.

“Had to go out of the country to find a husband, did ya, Janey?” Jeremiah leered, hiding his anger if only for a while.

“Shut up, Jeremiah, we met in New York” I snapped on the defensive, “And I’m really not in the mood for any of your prejudice right now”

“Janey…why so nasty, baby sister? I’m not going to make fun of your beau when I haven’t seen my precious little sister in three years” he grinned, looking down at me, “I knew you’d come crawling back here one of these days”

“I’m not crawling back to you!” I exclaimed, tears brimming my eyes. Peter wrapped an arm around my waist, giving me an imposing look. I sighed and mumbled, “You know what I need”

“Come on in” he said with a glint in his eyes.
“So what do you do for a living?” Jeremiah asked Peter. We were in the living room, Peter and I on the beat-up couch, I could feel myself sinking down two feet when I sat down, and Jeremiah on dad’s old armchair, sitting back as if he was the man of the house.

“I manage a hotel with my brothers and my father, who owns the hotel” Peter answered in his most polite tone, placing a protective arm around my shoulders.

“Must be one of them five-star hotels, judging by that rock on my sister’s finger” Jeremiah said, eyeing my engagement ring, “You know, Peter, Janey ain't used to livin’ in the lap of luxury, she might get excited…probably waste all your money”

I rolled my eyes and Peter replied, always eloquent but also defensive, “Jane is actually quite responsible when it comes to money, she was able to hold her own for a year before we started dating, and she still refuses to allow me to fully support her finances”

“Miss Independent are you now?” Jeremiah chuckled, looking over at me, his brown eyes teasing, “I remember I made you get down on your knees and beg for lunch money”

I stared down at my fingernails, moving closer to Peter so I could rest my head on his shoulder.

“You seem to have Janey under a tight rein” Jeremiah observed, eyeing me suspiciously.

“I wouldn’t say that” Peter replied pleasantly, rubbing my shoulder, “You know how love can be”

“Fat chance” I mumbled, rolling my eyes.

“Go get me a beer, Janey, and get your fiancé one too” Jeremiah ordered, his expression not changing.

I bit my tongue trying to hold back my automatic response of “fuck no”. I should be sucking up to him, like Peter was. He held the fate of our marriage in his hands now. If he said no, I was sure he’d try and force me to move back home. I would also face total exile from my family if he said no and I married Peter anyway. I sighed and got up, going into the kitchen taking two Miller Lites from the fridge, popping the caps off with my teeth and handing them to Jeremiah and Peter wordlessly.

“Thank you, darashya” Peter murmured as I reclaimed my place next to him.

“You see? That’s pure talent. Janey’s been able to open bottles with her teeth since she was 10, like ‘er teeth are made of metal or somethin’.” Jeremiah laughed, taking a long gulp of his beer, “She don’t need to go making cakes for a living”

“So what do you do here?” Peter asked politely, stroking my hair. This was yet another thing I loved about Peter. He felt comfortable with a little PDA here and there. He wasn’t always that way, since it was custom to show no affection whatsoever in public.

“Look around you, ruskie, I’m a goddamn farmer” Jeremiah laughed.

“Shut the fuck up, Jed, you fucking red neck” I snapped, rolling my eyes. My brother and I would casually call each other hicks and red necks.

“Look who’s talkin’, little missy, born and raised Southerner going and betraying her family to marry some commy” Jeremiah spat, an evil glint in his eye.

“Shut up! I hate you!” I scream lunging for him, but Peter caught me around the waist, bringing me to settle on his lap, like parent would keep their child on their lap.

“Was she normally this violent as a teenager?” Peter asked Jeremiah evenly, holding me to his chest as I struggled against him.

“Very” Jeremiah laughed, “Of course it wasn’t just her”

“So I’ve been informed” Peter muttered, his voice hard. I could feel both Jeremiah’s and Peter’s eyes on the bruise on my neck and I settled down, becoming out of breath. Jeremiah could call him all of the offensive names in the book, and yet he’d only be upset if I was hurt.

“It was all fun, wasn’t it, Janey?” Jeremiah smirked.

“It really wasn’t” I mumbled, slumping into Peter’s lap.

“I’m sure Peter’s slapped you around a few times” Jeremiah said, a huge grin on his face, “When commies get drunk there’s no tellin’ what they’ll do”

Before I could break out screaming again, Peter murmured, his voice as calm as ever, but hiding some anger, “I have never taken my anger out on Jane, only weak men release their frustrations on those who love them…and by the way, I am not a communist, that is a stereotype made from pure intolerance”

“So you basically jus’ called me a weak racist” Jeremiah growled, his fist shaking. I moved closer to Peter, knowing that my brother was about to erupt.

“Yes”

“You fucking bastard!” Before I knew it Jeremiah’s bottle was in the air, like one of those mid-air camera shots, frozen in time. But before it could hit my face, Peter caught it and placed it on the table in one swift movement. Peter set me on the couch and got up, rage also in his eyes.

“Is this really how you care for your sister? By impaling her with beer bottles?! You will not lay a finger on Jane while I am around, you may have raised her to fear you, but I will not” Peter snapped, glaring down at Jeremiah, who gave him a drunken smile.

“Looks like Janey found her knight in shining armor” Jeremiah sneered, looking at me once more, “But her knight ain’t exactly Xavier material, how’m I supposed to let a non-American into this family? Papa would be ashamed of you”

“N-no he wouldn’t” I stuttered, taking Peter’s hand, trying to pull him back on the couch.

“You embarrassed the whole family, baby girl, leaving to pursue some stupid dream; lots of us had dreams, Janey, what made yours so important?” he asked with a hint of seriousness.

I was speechless. Jeremiah always had a way of twisting things so I felt like the bad guy. Peter sat down next to me, still glowering at him.

“How about we continue this conversation after my fiancée and I get settled? Of course, I would much rather take her to a hotel…” Peter said, standing up and bringing me with him, his hand clasping mine.

“Why not stay here? Janey’ll get to sleep in her old room…and you can sleep on the couch” Jeremiah laughed.

“There’s enough room for Peter and me” I snapped. I was too used to falling asleep in Peter’s embrace every night to give it up.

“Aw, Janey, don’t you know it’s back luck to do that before the wedding?” he smiled, also standing up.

Peter rolled his eyes and pulled me out the door briskly. “I’m sorry Janey, but he is worse than I thought” he murmured as he opened the trunk of his car.

“I told you” I sighed, sitting on the edge of the trunk, “But no, ‘everyone is capable of remorse, Janey’”

He laughed and kissed me, “Everything’s worth it because I get you” he whispered, his lips lingering near mine.

“I never thought I’d meet someone who’d be able to cope with my stupid family” I whispered, laughing a little.

“They aren't what’s important, Janey, this is your wedding, your brother has no right to stop it” he said, kissing my cheek, his arms winding around me.

“Maybe not in the real world, but in my family’s world he does” I sighed, digging my head in his chest.