9. Christina
Christina
9
My life is officially a shitshow. I never would have imagined a reality where I'm waking up in a Mafia mansion because my mother married a mobster, I could be used as a pawn for marriage, and to top it all off, I have a disturbingly complicated… relationship with my new stepbrothers.
At least I have my routine. It’s a stupid little thing, but I’ve always been an orderly person and predictable rituals give me peace. This routine dates back to my middle school years.
During the week, I wake up at six, do my makeup, and have enough time to eat breakfast before heading off to class.
My freedom is important to me and just because I’m now living in a mansion bought with blood money, doesn’t mean who I am, what I do, and most importantly – what I stand for, is going to change.
I refuse to let it.
Guilt and anxiety gnaw at me as I pad my way over to the bathroom, testing the lock. The bathroom is shared between the two connecting rooms.
Lucky for me, neither of them seem to be early risers.
I rub my eyes and try not to think about yesterday.
I’m honestly surprised I woke up feeling as good as I do. Nico said a lot of things yesterday and he was acting exceptionally weird.
I have no idea if he was telling me the truth or not, but when I compare what he told me with the way Albert was acting, introducing me to all those men after church?
A shudder makes its way down my spine. I can’t believe my mother would let that happen.
I wish I could talk to her and find out if she knew who Albert was before she married him and more importantly, if she understood what it would mean for me.
Until I have evidence otherwise, I have to believe that my mother married for love. All of this has happened so quickly. Yesterday, I demanded Nico bring us home and threatened to be sick in his car if he didn’t.
When he begrudgingly pulled into the drive, I leaped out of the car and ran upstairs to my room to hide out.
I’ve been up here ever since.
No lunch. No dinner. No talks with my mother. I have no idea what Nico and Enzo told my mom and Albert about why I wasn’t with them, and I don’t care. All that matters is that everyone left me alone.
It was too much information for me to process. I think my brain was about to overload anyway.
I turn on the light in the bathroom and squint at the haggard looking reflection in the mirror.
I look pale and exhausted. Just great.
I twist the lock closed and check it – relieved that it appears strong. The last thing I need is one of them walking in from their adjoining door.
A part of me would rather not see either of them ever again. But I don’t think I’m going to get that lucky.
I pull out my makeup bag from the single drawer they’ve cleaned out for me. I grab my foundation and begin my routine.
With each swipe of my makeup brush, I can feel my heartbeat start to settle into a more reliable pattern.
Getting ready for class is soothing.
I’ve always liked school. I like learning. When I got a scholarship to Millerton, I jumped at the chance to enroll in their pre-law program. Most of my friends from high school stayed local too and we’re still hanging out when we can.
I love my friends. I pull out my phone and read the group messages from last night that I missed.
The girls hung out at Tori’s house for our Sunday ritual of nachos and watching Housewives together. Julia and Mandy came too.
Will I still be able to have nights like that now that my life is all crazy? Will I still get to see them? Can I even tell them what has happened? Or will that put them at risk?
My fingers hesitate above the keyboard. There’s so much I want to tell them, but I can’t. If there’s any chance that sharing information about Albert’s real life will put them in danger, I’d rather never speak to them again.
I smile at the pictures of Julia and Tori goofing off in the kitchen but I can’t bring myself to respond. They had fun, and I don’t want to ruin it.
Nothing kills the mood like, “Hey! Sorry I missed our girls’ night. My mom married the Mafia and now I have to figure out if I’m about to be married off like chattel or if I get to go to college. What happened on Housewives?” I sigh and reach for my eye cream.
I’m a little puffy and red from crying myself to sleep last night, but otherwise, I look pretty normal.
Nico’s words echo in my brain as I study my reflection.
Mafia Princess. It doesn’t sound real.
I brush my hair and straighten my shoulders. My mother might be a pawn in some elaborate chess match between the justice system and the mob, but I refuse to let that happen to me.
Whatever my mother has gotten into, I want nothing to do with it. I’m legally an adult. They can’t make me do anything. If I need to move out, I could get a job and maybe a couple roommates. My scholarship pays my tuition, so I have options.
I set the brush back in the drawer and push it shut.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Nico asks, standing behind me.
I jump and let out a startled little squeak, not expecting to see him.
“Nico! What the hell! How did you get in here?”
I glance over to his side of the door and see that it’s still locked. It’s still closed.
“I walked through your door.” He crosses his arms against his chest as he towers over me.
I take my lip between my teeth and feel my face flush red with embarrassment.
Shit.
I shift uncomfortably.
“I asked you a question, Angel. Where do you think you’re going?” He cocks a dark eyebrow as he lets his gaze drip over my body. I wish I had my bathrobe on. My short sleep shorts and tiny tank top make me feel way more exposed than I’m comfortable with this morning.
“To class.” I reply, meeting his gaze. “I have a 9am and a 10:30 this morning.”
I swear to God, if he thinks I’m abandoning my future just like that, because my mother decided to get married, he’s got another thing coming. If anything, it makes me more determined than ever to follow my dreams and make a difference in this world.
Become someone who doesn’t abandon their morals for a man.
Nico raises an eyebrow at me. He’s radiating intensity and dangerous sex appeal and it kind of freaks me out.
Dressed like that in black jeans and a fitted black t-shirt, he looks like every movie bad boy I’ve ever seen.
Stop drooling over the evil spawn, Christina. He’s hot but he’s trouble and you know that.
His heavy gaze burns as he stares at me.
“Say something,” I snap, reaching for my eyelash curler.
His lip curls and he gives his head a slow shake.
“You’re taking online courses now,” he says.
I put the eyelash curler down and stare at him through the mirror.
“No – I am enrolled at Millerton U and I’m going to class.”
“Wrong.”
I roll my eyes at him and move to push past him. I literally don’t have time for his bullshit this morning.
When he doesn’t budge, I take a step back to glare at him. “Did you not hear me? I’m going to class and I don’t want to be late. Move.”
He stares at me with an inscrutable expression.
“Maybe you didn’t hear me, Christina.” He steps closer, “You’re not going.”
I scoff. “It’s the middle of the semester and I’m a scholarship student. I have to maintain Satisfactory Academic Progress or I lose my scholarship so, yeah, I will be going to class.
Thanks, though.”
At this rate, I’m going to have to skip coffee with Julia and go straight to school if I’m going to make it on time.
He moves so he’s entirely blocking the door. Just standing there like a big, immovable, irritatingly sexy rock.
I blink at him, waiting for an explanation, or a punchline. Maybe this is all some elaborate joke. Any second now, he’ll laugh, crack a smile and step to the side. My heart beats faster with every second that goes by with no response.
How dare they try to mess with my future? My education!
“Do you know what year it is, or do you just subscribe to some traditional crap about the woman being in the kitchen? Is that it? Are you just sexist?”
I put my hands on my hips, refusing to back down or show weakness. I won’t give in. Not to him. Not on this. My future depends on it.
“Sexist? No. Realist, yes.” He takes another step closer. “And I know exactly what year it is, sweetheart. It’s the year you get married. Congratulations.”
“Married?” I scoff. “How about, no. I refuse. There, problem solved.”
He smirks at me again and I want to slap him.
“Do you enjoy hearing me repeat my words or are you genuinely confused, Christina?
Because if you’re confused this easily, I don’t think higher education was really ever going to pan out.”
“Wow,” I say blandly, turning away from him, “What a big surprise, you’re still an asshole! I don’t have time for this. I’m running late. Scamper off to whatever it is you do all day.”
This has to be their version of a sick and twisted joke. Like, a weird stepsibling hazing thing.
To actually expect me to get married at nineteen is ludicrous. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to throw away everything I’ve worked for.
He studies me with a predatory look in his eye and that bad feeling starts up again.
The more I watch him and his body language, the more anger, combined with a cold, sticky panic begins to slip down my spine. Tears well in my eyes and I blink them back furiously. I hate that I’m a crier.
“Tears won’t save you, Angel.” He mocks me.
I glare at him and wipe my eyes furiously.
“Do you think this is a game? This is my life and you are ruining it. You and your stupid family.”
The right side of his lips twists into a cruel smirk. “What are you going to do about it, cry and stomp your foot?”
I feel my cheeks heat but I refuse to acknowledge it. I hate feeling helpless like this.
“You think you’ll get your way by having a temper tantrum? You’re really taking this Mafia princess thing to heart, huh?”
I stare at him, my palms twitching. I’m not a violent person but I’ve never wanted to slap the smirk off someone’s face more in my life.
He reaches out to stroke my face but I slap his hand way.
“If I want you to touch me, I’ll let you know. Get the hell out of my way.” I snap.
It’s the wrong move. I know it as soon as the words leave my mouth. Nico’s brow furrows and his eyes darken. It’s the only warning I get before he pushes me against the locked door and slams his body against mine.
A tendril of fear starts in my gut and winds its way up my spine, but I try to hold my ground.
"Do you think you’re impressive?” I hiss, my pulse hammering in my throat. “Overpowering a girl because you’re mad? You’re pathetic. Who’s throwing the tantrum now?”
He lifts my chin with two fingers, drawing my face closer to his as my heartbeat presses my chest right below his.
“Let’s get one thing clear, right away, Angel. You don’t make the rules, here. You listen to me.”
“Or what?” I growl, shaking my head to dislodge his hands. “You aren’t the boss of me.
You’re not even my real family. You’re just the dickwad I inherited when my mom shacked up with your dad.”
“Do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way, princess?” he asks, gripping my chin harder.
The tears start to well again but this time, they are fueled by righteous anger. How dare he try to treat me like this! What gives him the right?
“I won’t listen to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?”
“Corrupt. Immoral. Wrong. Pathetic.”
He’s silent and for a brief minute, I allow myself the delusion that perhaps I’ve won. But as he lets the tension build between us – I know I won’t be that lucky.
His grip on my chin shifts to become a tightening grip around my throat.
“The world isn’t black and white, Christina. You’ll do well to remember that most of us live in the grays.”