Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
MIA
" R emember, bella ," Carmelo hisses in my ear as we pull up to the theater, his fingers digging into my arm like talons. "Don't you dare embarrass me tonight. Or there will be consequences."
I swallow hard, my stomach churning with dread and humiliation. As if I need any reminder of the constant tightrope I'm forced to walk.
Having Giovanni witness Carmelo's cruel words only amplifies my shame. Not that it should matter what my cold, judgmental bodyguard thinks of me. He already seems to despise me just like my husband does.
The car rolls to a stop and Giovanni exits first, moving to open my door. He extends a hand to assist me, like the professional he is meant to be. But I can't bring myself to accept his help, knowing Carmelo is watching like a hawk for any hint of impropriety.
The last thing I need is to give him an excuse to accuse me of trying to seduce my own bodyguard. As if I have any choice in being paraded around in this revealing dress, to be an object for men's leering gazes.
So I ignore Giovanni's proffered hand and step out of the car on my own, careful not to let the slit in my gown ride up too high.
"Let's go," Carmelo barks, placing a possessive hand on the small of my back to steer me towards the entrance.
I paste on the practiced, empty smile I've perfected for these events and let him lead me inside, with Giovanni trailing silently behind us. The perfect trophy wife and her entourage.
No one would ever guess the turmoil roiling inside me, the scream building in my throat. But I swallow it down, as I always do. The show must go on.
My heels click on the marble floor as we make our way further into the lavish theater, the sound echoing in the empty lobby. Carmelo's grip on me tightens almost imperceptibly, a subtle reminder to stay close lest I try to slip away into the crowd. As if I had anywhere to go, anyone who would help me if I did.
No, I'm trapped here just as securely as if I were chained in a dungeon. The gilded cage may look beautiful, but it's a prison all the same.
We enter the main hall and I'm momentarily blinded by the glittering chandeliers, the crush of overdressed bodies laughing and mingling. Carmelo steers us directly towards a group of men in tailored suits, their faces hard and calculating beneath the patina of wealth and charm.
More of his Cosa Nostra associates, no doubt. I tune out their conversation, letting my gaze drift around the room, not really seeing any of it. A crystal glass is pressed into my hand and I take a grateful sip, focusing on the burn of the alcohol going down my throat instead of the oppressive reality of where I am, who I'm with.
A rough hand on my waist jolts me back to the present. Carmelo is smirking down at me, his eyes cold.
As Carmelo returns to his conversation, I feel a prickle on the back of my neck and glance up to find Giovanni watching me from a short distance away.
I want to believe it's the intense focus he brings to his job of guarding my body. But this time, there's an edge to it that sets me on alert.
Does he hate having to watch over me this closely? To see me paraded around like a trophy, draped on Carmelo's arm in this obscenely revealing dress? The look of barely-contained disgust on his chiseled features suggests that.
I can't blame him. If I were in his shoes, I'd despise myself too.
The way Carmelo gropes me possessively, his thin fingers digging into the bare flesh of my back. How he leers at me with undisguised lust, not even trying to hide his objectification in public. It must make Giovanni's skin crawl to witness my humiliation up close like this.
Part of me wants to shrink from his withering stare, to curl into myself and disappear. The other part perversely longs to meet his eyes, to convey the shame and self-loathing I know is so plainly written across my face.
Let him see what a broken, pathetic creature I've become under Carmelo's boot.
The truth is, I can't allow myself that small comfort of connection, no matter how fleeting. Because any sliver of emotion between us, no matter how innocuous, could be a death sentence for the both of us.
Carmelo claps one of his associates jovially on the shoulder before sauntering off to greet another impeccably-dressed man across the hall.
For a blessed instant, I'm able to breathe again without his overwhelming presence crushing me.
"Mia? Mia Vitale? Is that really you?" The voice sends a shockwave of recognition through me. I whip my head around to find myself face-to-face with Marco Ricci, someone I knew what feels like a lifetime ago.
"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. It's me, Marco."
Marco and I went to the same high school - he was a year ahead of me - but he never really noticed me until his family hired me to clean their pool one summer. I remember his friendly smiles back then as I worked cleaning the pool of his family’s wealthy estate. I’m still grateful for all the other commissions I received thanks to his family’s recommendations to their neighbors. Those jobs were essential for my family to scrape by.
His warm hazel eyes still crinkle at the corners when he grins, instantly transporting me back to those carefree days before my life went to hell.
"Marco," I breathe, "I... I can't believe it," I stammer, torn between joy at an achingly familiar face and the sinking feeling that this encounter could have devastating consequences.
His smile widens, brown eyes crinkling. "Yeah, it's been a while! You look..." His gaze sweeps over me appraisingly. "Really different."
Heat floods my cheeks. He means the plunging neckline, and the dangerously high dress slit, the hair and makeup done up like some tawdry escort.
"It's good to see you," I say stiffly.
Marco's smile falters. He takes a half step closer, his eyes searching my face. "Hey, are you okay? You seem..."
Panic lances through me. I can't afford whatever misguided concern Marco seems intent on voicing. Not here, not now.
I take a subtle step back, avoiding his eyes. "I'm fine. But please, you need to leave." My voice comes out strained.
He frowns. "Did I do something wrong? I just wanted to catch up." Moving on instinct, he reaches out to place a comforting hand on my arm. The simple human gesture, something that once would have been so innocuous between friends, now feels blindsiding in its intimacy.
I flinch violently, his touch scorching my bare skin like a brand.
Marco looks stricken. But before he can respond, my roving gaze finds Carmelo across the room. His black eyes are locked on us, zeroed in on where Marco touched me.
Fear slams into me, stealing my breath. Carmelo's expression promises swift, brutal retribution.
Oh god. What have I done?
Panic rises in my chest, threatening to choke me. I open my mouth to beg Marco to leave, but a broad shoulder blocks my view as Giovanni materializes between us. His tall frame radiates menace as he stares Marco down.
"I'm going to have to ask you to step away from Mrs. Barone," he rumbles, his Italian accent adding an ominous lilt.
Marco gapes up at Giovanni's imposing form, then rallies. "Hey, we're just talking. No need to get aggressive." He makes as if to step around Giovanni, but my bodyguard holds fast, immovable as a brick wall.
"I won't ask you again," Giovanni says quietly. Something dangerous glints in his eyes.
Marco blinks, taken aback. His eyes dart from Giovanni's impassive face to my obvious distress. I catch the glimmer of understanding in his gaze before he smooths his features.
"Sorry man, I didn't mean anything by it," he says lightly, though his jaw ticks with irritation. "Just saying hi to an old friend."
Giovanni doesn't budge, massive arms crossed. Waiting. The two men size each other up like alpha males on the brink of confrontation.
After a tense beat, Marco huffs out a breath, lifting his hands in mock surrender. "Alright dude, relax. I got the message."
He turns to me, regret and pity mingling in his warm eyes. "Good seeing you, Mia. Take care of yourself."
I nod jerkily, relief crashing through me as Marco disappears into the crowd.
Giovanni's broad back still blocks me from view, shielding me from Carmelo's searing gaze. I sag against the wall.
That was close. Marco was only trying to be kind, but his innocent concern nearly doomed us both. This cursed life makes me flinch from simple human connection.
I down my drink in one gulp, the burn of the alcohol barely registering as I force a breath through my lungs. It's my second glass tonight, and while I've barely eaten anything all day thanks to Carmelo's draconian dietary restrictions, my mind is so alert that the booze doesn’t take the edge off. I force a shaky breath into my lungs, willing the numbing effects to kick in faster. My empty stomach roils in protest, but I ignore it.
Over the past few months, ever since Carmelo took me for the first time, I've been drinking more and more. Not because it makes me feel better - it never does. But I've become addicted to that brief numbness in the back of my mind, the fleeting sensation of being a little less disgusted every time Carmelo comes to my bedroom at night. It never fully works, but even a sliver of respite is something.
I move to grab another drink from a passing tray, craving the brief escape it offers my tormented mind. Anything to dull the sharp edges of this nightmare I'm trapped in. But before I can reach for a glass, a large hand clamps around my wrist, stopping me cold.
I look up to find Giovanni looking down at me, his dark eyes unreadable. "You've had enough," he says quietly, but there's no mistaking the steel in his voice.
I stiffen, a spike of anger flaring through the alcoholic haze. Who is he to judge how much I've had to drink? He has no idea of the fresh hell I'm forced to endure whenever Carmelo wants to assert his supposed marital rights over my body.
The biting retort dies on my lips when I turn and glimpse the look in his dark eyes. As if he can see straight through to the gaping maw of pain and shame I'm desperately trying to numb, if only for a little while.
Ashamed, I avert my gaze. Of course he knows. He's witnessed firsthand the way Carmelo treats me.
Giovanni releases my wrist, the warmth of his hand still lingers. I rub the spot absently, still avoiding his piercing stare. Neither of us speak. The charged moment stretches between us, broken only by the sound of approaching footsteps.
The numb fog of the alcohol evaporates in an instant, replaced by the all-too-familiar icy dread that floods my veins whenever Carmelo is near. My muscles tense, bracing for impact.
He reaches us in a few long strides, not even sparing me a glance as he addresses Giovanni. "Take us home. Now." His voice is low and dangerous, promising retribution for some perceived slight.
Giovanni nods curtly, ever the obedient soldier. He takes my elbow in a firm grip, steering me towards the exit without a word. I don't resist, knowing it would only make things worse.
As we walk, I feel the weight of Carmelo's fury bearing down on me like a physical thing.
There's always something. A look, a word, a gesture that sets him off. And I'll pay for it, one way or another. The only question is how bad it will be this time.
By the time we reach the car, my legs are shaking so badly I can barely stand. Giovanni practically has to lift me into the backseat, his hands impersonal but not rough.
Carmelo climbs in beside me, the door slamming with a resounding finality. The sound makes me flinch, my heart rabbiting in my chest.
As the car pulls away from the curb, I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the window. Wide, terrified eyes stare back at me from a ghost-white face.
The short ride back passes in tense silence. Carmelo's fingers dig into my thigh, making his intentions for when we arrive home clear. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my racing heart to slow.
Just endure, I tell myself. Survive another night. My chance to break free will come.
It has to.
I sit alone on the edge of the bed, hands clenched together so tightly I can barely feel them. The room is silent except for the erratic pounding of my heart. I stare at the closed door, willing it to stay that way, even though I know it's is only temporary.
The waiting is always the worst part. Not knowing when Carmelo will decide I've been left to stew long enough before he comes to deliver my punishment. The anticipation makes my empty stomach churn with dread.
I force myself to take long, deep breaths, trying to slow my racing pulse. But the adrenaline coursing through me keeps my body tense, braced for the violence I know is coming.
The minutes drag by at an agonizing crawl. I strain my ears for any sound of approaching footsteps in the hall outside. But the only thing I hear is the relentless ticking of the antique clock on my dresser, counting down the seconds until my torment begins anew.
I wish he would just get it over with already instead of drawing out my suffering like this. But that's exactly why he does it. Carmelo knows keeping me waiting in fearful suspense only heightens the pain when he finally makes his move.
It's just another way he asserts his dominance. Another cruel game I'm powerless to stop playing.
I flinch involuntarily when the door suddenly swings open with an ominous creak. Carmelo's frame fills the doorway, his eyes burning with that all-too-familiar sadistic gleam. My pulse skyrockets, but I force myself to meet his gaze steadily. I won't give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.
Carmelo's mouth twists into a mocking sneer as he stalks towards me. "Did you enjoy your little taste of freedom tonight, Mia? Flirting with that man right under my nose?"
I open my mouth to protest that I wasn't flirting, to explain it was just an old friend, but the words die in my throat. There's no point. He won't listen anyway.
"You worthless whore, parading around in that indecent dress like a two-bit hooker." He spits the words in my face. "I saw the way you threw yourself at that man. Letting him paw at you right in front of everyone."
I clench my jaw, biting back angry words I know will only make this worse, as I look down to hide the fury mixing with fear in my gaze.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He seizes my chin in an iron grip, forcing me to meet his livid gaze. I school my gaze to stare back impassively, refusing to show any reaction.
His fingers dig into my jaw hard enough to bruise. "Don't you ever disrespect me like that again, you hear me?" He gives my head a rough shake. "No other man is allowed to touch what's mine."
I tamp down the fury blazing inside me at his possessive words. As if I'm nothing but a belonging, an object for him to use and control however he sees fit.
When he finally seems to have exhausted his reservoir of cruelty, Carmelo grabs a fistful of my hair and wrenches my head back sharply. I gasp at the explosion of pain, helpless tears springing to my eyes.
"You belong to me!" he hisses through clenched teeth. "Don't ever forget that."
He emphasizes his point with a backhanded slap across my cheek. My neck whips to the side with the force of the blow. I taste blood, metallic and hot on my tongue.
I don't make a sound, even as he continues raining down blows on my unresisting body. Better to get it over with quickly. I retreat deep inside myself, trying to separate from the pain.
After a final kidney punch that leaves me gasping, Carmelo straightens, breathing heavily. His knuckles are split and bloody. But despite his heaving chest, his eyes are coldly satisfied at having beaten me into submission once again.
I remain hunched on the bed, my shoulders curled protectively inward. Every inch of my body throbs and aches. I feel his heavy stare crawling over me, eager to witness the effects of his handiwork.
When I finally lift my head, the smug pleasure in his eyes makes my stomach turn. With a twisted smirk, he reaches into his suit jacket and produces a small white pill.
"Take this."
I stare at the small white pill resting in Carmelo's palm, and my stomach rolls like waves crashing on the shore. I know exactly what it is. The same pill he's given me so many times before, always right before he forces himself on me while I'm unconscious.
I feel both paralyzed and on the edge of action. On the one hand, the pill offers me a temporary escape from this nightmare, a few blissful hours of oblivion where I don't have to feel Carmelo's hands violating my limp body.
But the aftermath is somehow even worse. Waking up the next day, bruised and aching in places that make his actions of the night before clear. Knowing my drugged mind spared me the trauma, but my body still endured his depravities while I was helpless to resist.
It's a unique kind of torture, being robbed even of the ability to fight back. And he knows it. The smug satisfaction in his eyes when I stir the next morning, wincing in pain, proves he enjoys this power over me.
"Take it, you fucking cunt" Carmelo orders again, his smile cruel.
I know I have no choice. Refusing will only make this so much worse. Slowly, hating myself, I open my mouth.
He places the bitter pill on my tongue like a sacrament, his twisted version of a lover's kiss. I swallow hard, the lump in my throat burning all the way down.
Then I lay back on the bed as instructed, staring up at the ceiling as the drug starts to take hold. A numbness spreads through my limbs, my vision going fuzzy at the edges.
Just as the darkness closes in, I see Carmelo looming over me, his hands grasping greedily for what I cannot stop him from taking.
Then there is only blackness and oblivion, at least for a few hours. But when morning comes, the truth of what he's done will remain, another scar on my soul I can never erase.
So I surrender to unconsciousness, praying this is the last time I'll ever have to endure such a violation. And dreaming of the day I'll finally be free.