Chapter 15
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ANASTASIA
My hand trembles as I grip the sink, struggling to swallow down the thick bile that creeps up my throat. I could blame the questionable looking carbonara my mother made, but I know it’s the guilt for not telling my parents about my upcoming engagement.
It’s been almost three weeks since I signed the revised contract and the announcement is to be released to the media in two days. It’s not that I’m scared to tell them…more like putting it off because I know once the truth is out, it’ll just make this fake marriage a whole lot harder to commit to .
Plus, it means lying to my parents — the one sin I hate to commit.
Oh fuck. I quickly grab my hair, as I vomit chunks of pasta into the toilet. There’s a sudden rush of footsteps coming from the hallway and I groan, almost resting my cheek on the toilet seat before coming to my senses.
There’s a sharp knock on the door. “Stasia, are you okay?”
I quickly flush the toilet and rinse my mouth in the sink, catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror.
Holy fuck, I look disgusting.
There are heavy bags under my eyes, my lips are all cracked from forgetting to apply my balm and my hair is completely flat.
Barely six weeks into this engagement and it’s already killing me.
“Stasia, are you okay?” Sighing, I finally unlock the door, only for my mom to push herself inside and lock it again.
“What the hell?” My dad barks.
“Let me talk to her first.” She says, waiting until his shadow disappears.
Pushing my hair back, I force a smile on my face. “Mom, I’m fine. It’s probably just the food. ”
She frowns, grabbing a cloth and wetting it. I let my eyes fall shut as she presses the warm cloth against my forehead. “You’ve never had a problem with my food before. Are you sure it isn’t something else?”
My mind burns at her inquisition, knowing exactly what she’s alluding to. “I’m not pregnant.” Her dark eyes narrow as if trying to deduce any bullshit. “Really I’m not.” Whilst the pull-out method is not the most effective form of birth control, it always worked for us at Ravenswood. Yet the reason we always had to fuck raw was only because buying condoms there was harder than scoring coke.
Now it was just stupid and risky, but I doubt the man would have put one on even if I begged. It’s clear he wants me knocked up soon and all I can think aboutis how part of me is glad he pulled out because it gives us another excuse to fuck like that again.
I’m nowhere close to forgiving the bastard but God, he has a magic cock.
“I don’t want to pry because you are twenty-five years old after all but if I think my daughter is in danger then—”
Oh god. “What?”
“A few weeks ago when you came over for dinner, you were wearing a scarf and when it shifted, I saw bruises before you covered them up again. They looked like fingerprints and then there was the bite mark just above the collar and I know people can have all sorts of kinks but…”
“Mom please don’t—”
“But we have never seen those marks on you before and they were fresh. If someone was hurting you, then you would tell me…right?”
I wish I was anyone else right now. My skin is itchy, desperate for me to crawl inside and bury away from this embarrassment. “Mom, it's not like that. It’s a kink, that’s all. I wanted him to do that to me.”
There’s nothing like admitting to your mother that you like it when men choke and bite you during sex.
“Thank god.” She sighs, dropping the cloth to pull me into her arms.
I could have killed Enzo for leaving that bite mark and yet my mind was in pieces after that orgasm I could barely remember my own name. I blame it on the memories whipping around inside of me like a hurricane. One of us being as intimate as we were in the limo, except this time there was no cuddling or romantic kisses to follow.
Instead I was left with this emptiness that I tried to escape from by stealing Enzo’s jacket and running out of the limo to my own across the road. I didn’t stop to say bye or even grab my ruined panties off the floor .
I just ran like hell.
“How about I make some tea? It might help your stomach.”
We might need something stronger than tea.
I let her usher me out of the bathroom and back downstairs. None of my siblings are at home – Demetri and Isla are still trying to get through the first semester of Ravenswood and Calista decided to attend Jermiah’s art show after I practically begged her not to.
That just leaves the three of us, giving them a valid excuse in their minds to baby me. My dad wraps me up in a blanket, settling in on my right whilst my mom flicks through movies on Netflix. Both are so content in their early retirement and yet I could never see myself being happy without work.
Without purpose.
I shift uncomfortably on the couch, struggling to relax beneath the heavy weight of guilt in my chest.
Guilt is such a strange thing.
Once I slit a man’s throat and then attended his funeral, paying my respects to his family who unknowingly shook hands with their loved one’s murderer. Never was any ounce of this wretched feeling.
I suppose I lost my moral conscience a while ago, uncaring to the violent acts I commit in the name of the mafia .
Yet with my family, it’s wholly different.
It’s gnawing at my mind and refusing to let me enjoy the crappy movie that’s playing on the screen. Even the tea I’m attempting to sip on feels strange in my stomach. Almost like there’s no space inside for it with all the guilt eating away at me.
“Are you okay, Stasia?” My dad presses his hand to my head. His thick brows furrow in worry. “She’s a little hot, Kiara. Maybe we should call Emery?”
I pull his hand down. “I’m fine dad. No need to call the doctor.”
“I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having a look at you.” Just tell them .
Pushing the blanket aside, I reach for my purse and pull out the same ring Enzo first proposed to me with. He mailed it to me a week ago with another cursive letter to accompany it, demanding that I wear it at all times.
I had half a mind to ring him up and demand he put it on my hand himself if he really wanted me to wear it but the moment I slipped it on, it just felt right.
The band was weirdly the perfect size, silver with diamonds encrusted all around. Yet it was the blood red ruby in the center that drew me in, sharply cut with a shine so bright that I could almost see my own reflection .
Red has always been my favorite color. Most would suspect black from my wardrobe choices but red has always lured me in.
The dichotomy of being so bold yet unsettling, reflecting both blood and fire, creates a visceral feeling that settles in my bones.
I quickly draw my lips back down, before turning to face my parents again. I notice the movie is on pause, an awkward silence stretching thin between us.
My mom’s gaze flickers down and she gasps. “Is that a—” Tears begin to shine in her eyes and that guilt begins to consume me whole.
“I don't understand.” My dad frowns, still not noticing the ring, I swallow hard, stepping forward and lifting my hand up for him to see. The ruby sparkles beneath the light like a taunt.
He grabs my hand, dragging me closer for further inspection. “Anastasia, what the fuck is this?”
“It’s going to seem like a lot but I need you both to trust me.” I can tell my dad it is itching to jump up but my mom plants her hand on his leg and he forces himself to be still.
“Go ahead.” I can tell her patience is wearing thin so I give myself five minutes before she explodes .
“So as you can see, I met someone. We’ve been seeing each other for five months, but I’ve never brought him around because I knew you wouldn’t accept him for who he is.”
The lie rolls off my tongue so easily. It was one of the stipulations in the contract so to the world we’re a love story.
And my parents would never accept the whole messy truth — even if it’s the only thing saving Romano Industries.
“Who is he?” My dad grits out.
“Enzo Mancini.” I watch as his face falls, confusion and anger swirling in those sapphire eyes. “Yes, the same Enzo whom I met with about the merger. I had to lie to the board and everyone else about knowing him which is why he sent the letter to be purposely seen by Lawerence, so the board would believe it's their idea to push me into marriage. It’s been casual until now…the marriage is more of a business move on both sides but to the media we’re calling it love.”
“A business move?” My mom exclaims. “Stasia, marriage shouldn’t be a part of business. Love is already complicated and messy…add in the merger and contracts and legals ties and… how are you even considering this? I thought we showed you what a semi healthy relationship looks like, what love looks like.”
She could never understand. Her romance story is up there with the greats and there was nothing I loved more as child than hearing them recount how the dark knight met his princess. She saved his haunted soul, whilst he cast shadows on hers, and together they ruled an empire.
My love story ended nine years ago with a shattered heart and a vow to never give it away again.
“Mom, a marriage isn’t secured by love. You just need an understanding between two individuals and enough trust that it doesn’t blow back in your face. I…like him. We’ve been seeing each other for a while and though the marriage is primarily for business reasons, I don’t see why it can't work like any other.” Frustration begins to leach through my voice. “If it was good enough for grandma and grandpa, it’s good enough for me.”
The hate I feel towards him coils inside of my body like a snake. It’s the hate that sparks fire and passion between us — just like that day in the limo.
“That was different.” She counters. “They were practically forced to marry each other. It was arranged but you have a choice. We would never want that for you. We want you to fall in love, experience it, get married for it or not, as long as you’re happy.”
I swallow down the guilt as I lie to her again. “I am happy.”
They both settle back on the couch but I fix my eyes on my dad. He’s still quiet with a look on his face that I can’t quite read .
“He’s part of the Camorra.” My dad finally says.
I nod slowly, trying to still figure him out. “He is the Camorra, dad. He understands this life. He knows the sacrifices and I’m not exactly negotiating world peace dad. If anything…my position is worse. More enemies, more sins…”
“More power. If you marry, you’ll have to share it.”
I shrug, trying to ignore the unease that rises at thought. “I can do that.”
Finally he shows some emotion, allowing his lips to rise. “You’ve never been any good at that.” True .
Calista and I tried to be roommates when I was seven and it ended with me convincing her the attic would be a better bedroom than ours.
“So our little girl is really going to get married?” My mom tests the words on her tongue as if trying to figure out how she feels. Then she looks at me, the worry still evident on her features. “If you’re okay with this…if you’re happy, then so am I.”
“Me too.” My dad adds and they both stand, pulling me into their arms. My throat burns with a million things left to stay but I keep them bottled up inside .
“You have to bring him to dinner next week.” She decides. “I’ll be calling your sisters and brother home too. It’s time Enzo met the family.”