Chapter 12 - Bianca
Regret is like a vine, growing fast and undetectable at first until it’s gotten too big and impossible to contain. I tried not to pay attention to it at first, but that just proved to give it the fertile soil to grow and fester in. The past few days have left a grim feeling blooming in the pit of my stomach, steadily spreading and weighing down the rest of my body. The night with Aleksei was a reckless mistake. It was amazing—there’s no denying that —with Aleksei’s calloused touches both passionate and practiced, but not quite enough to make me forget that he is my captor and very likely a dangerous criminal. But the anger and regret I feel isn’t really aimed at him, no. I knew he was bad news the moment I laid eyes on him, even back at Inferno. I am mad at myself for giving in.
A few days into my attempts at avoiding Aleksei, I decide to start focusing my energy on exploring the grounds that I am now, against my will, to see as my home. It’s a sprawling estate, the sheer size of which intimidates me at first. I start slow at the beginning of the week, descending only to the kitchen at first. Now, a few days later, I know where all the unlocked rooms are located and feel a want to finally venture outside. I know there is little hope of somehow breaking free, even traversing the grounds outside. Maybe that’s why I feel so hesitant about finally going beyond the walls of the mansion, because it will inevitably solidify the fact that there is no escape, that despite my best efforts, I’m at my captor’s mercy.
Today, I find myself heading up the stairs, already caffeinated and fed to prepare myself for what I’ve decided would be my plan for today. I crack the door to my room open, quickly heading to the closet and picking out a comfortable set of joggers and a loose shirt—from the collection of clothes meticulously picked and curated before I even arrived. Over the past few days, I doubled down on wearing as many of the garments as I could, trying to leave them stained or otherwise maimed so that they had to be constantly replaced. It was a childish strategy, but I hope at least this little act of resistance grates on Aleksei—to remind him that whatever might’ve happened in a moment of frenzied lust, I still don’t want to be here. Nothing has changed.
It's warm outside, the sun still shining its last rays before setting. It feels nice—feeling the warmth tickle the skin on my face, the light blinding me a little as I step outside. As I expected, two bulky men dressed in black stand on each side of the wide front door, staring ahead of them, completely unfazed by my exit.
This place is massive . It’s the only word I can think of when ten minutes into walking around, I find nothing but manicured gardens, small paths leading to more overgrown areas with trees and a solitary concrete path that I assume leads to the main entrance of this place, no doubt heavily guarded too. Despite living with my father in his own lavish estate some years ago, this dwarfs any previous notion of luxury I’ve had. That’s my other observation—regardless if the area is a garden or one of the more overgrown areas, armed men are posted everywhere. They’re silent, almost statue-like in their camo uniforms making them indistinguishable from one another, their observant gaze the only evidence that they’re cognizant of my movement. I shiver, feeling uncomfortable under the constant monitoring, almost expecting something to go wrong with so much protection required. It takes me back to my childhood when such a strong armed presence always followed me and my family around. This was the reason I broke free and tried to live a life of my own—to escape the constant scrutiny and sense of foreboding and danger everywhere I turn.
After some more aimless wandering, I arrive at a very well-manicured garden bigger than all the others—one that has a huge green labyrinth of carefully shaped hedges forming winding paths, tall enough to provide some sense of privacy. Maybe out of sheer curiosity, I decide to walk inside, wanting a little bit of time, at least somewhat obscured from the countless security guards patrolling the grounds.
The deeper I get, the less I can shake the feeling of unease gnawing at the pit of my stomach. I find myself all alone with my thoughts, several bombarding my synapses at once, a barrage of information that overwhelms my brain. My father may be a respected member of the mafia, years of atrocities behind his belt, but it seems insignificant compared to that of Aleksei. Considering all the possibilities of how this might play out almost sends me into a spiral, all outcomes looking like a lose-lose situation. I can’t see a way out.
Ruminating on the dead-end situation I’m currently facing will not help though—a fact that pushes me to keep walking until I exit the disorienting maze of greenery, turning back to the path that leads to the mansion. Shaking my boots off, I decide to stop by the kitchen to have something small to eat before heading off to my room, deciding to end the day reading a book from the library I discovered in the house a few days ago. Once I have an apple in my hand, I take the opportunity to explore the mansion more.
My plan is halted almost immediately as a tall, brooding figure emerges from the corridor I was heading to. It’s Dmitri, serious as always, stopping as he steps besides me. We are shoulder to shoulder now, each facing opposite directions.
“Heard you went out for a walk today, was it nice?” He questions, turning slightly to me. I glance up, trying to offer him a smile. This is a more common occurrence now—him seeking me out a few times a day. I can’t shake the feeling that it is to keep tabs on me, though it also means I have some precious social interaction since I decided to distance myself from Aleksei.
“It was beautiful. I should’ve explored the grounds sooner.” He nods in agreement, before grabbing swiftly at the apple in my hand and bringing it up to his mouth, biting into it. He walks off and smirks when he looks back at my shocked expression. It’s the first time I’ve seen him even remotely close to playful, walking off like a five-year-old that just played a prank.
“Hey!” I catch myself, slow to respond after being stunned. “That was my apple! I’m going to starve now.”
“Alright,” he humors me, throwing the bitten apple back at me. I catch it, rolling my eyes at his childish antics. It’s nice to know there’s more to the robotic exterior I’ve become so accustomed to. He’s gone as soon as he’s thrown the fruit, disappearing to do what I assume is Aleksei’s bidding, wherever that is. He’s just Aleksei’s lapdog. The men’s chatter from the day I was taken echoes in my mind. I file a mental note to find out what exactly that meant.
I spend the rest of the day reading, finding myself on the last page well into the evening. I still don’t feel tired though—deciding I’ll go and swap the book I just read for a new one. Since my arrival here I’ve not yet been given access to a phone, most likely Aleksei’s way of prolonging my father’s anger by restricting the contact between me and my family. So, reading became my new hobby—one that I happily immerse myself in to help pass the time as much as possible.
The path to the library is through the kitchen on the ground floor, one that I visualize in my head to concoct a plan. I tiptoe out of my room, not wanting to make too much noise as it’s now well into the night, the only source of light being the moonlight streaming in through the windows.
I pass through the kitchen swiftly, not bothering to turn on the light, instead utilizing the moonlight to illuminate my path. The door to the library is cracked open, a soft yellow light streaming in through the opening. I speed up, wanting to slip in and out fast in case someone is in the room—that someone being Aleksei, who I am still very much attempting to avoid.
It's too late to sneak back out by the time I’m several footsteps deep into the room—the scene in front of me making me freeze. Akim’s crazed gaze catches mine, and I feel the tips of my ears growing red from embarrassment. He’s bent over a woman that is pressed into a table; skirt bunched up at her waist, while Akim holds a hand over her mouth. Ah , that was probably the reason I didn’t hear them on the way here. His own pants are bunched up at his ankles. The woman looks to be in her mid-twenties, her white shirt and black skirt betraying that she’s probably a member of the cleaning staff.
I finally manage to come to when I hear the soft thud of the book I was holding hitting the carpeted floor. It’s a soft, muted sound, but still loud enough to propel me into action. I run out of the room, feeling somewhat like a prude—it’s not that I’m embarrassed by sex, but seeing my husband’s brother almost entirely naked with another woman is still enough to make me blush.
Once in my room, I quickly strip down to my underwear and bury myself in the soft, thick duvet. Sleep finds me soon after.
***
The next morning is grim, the sun that usually wakes me in the morning, hiding behind a thick grey curtain of misery. I saunter down the stairs in a pair of loose sweats and shirt, yawning as I enter the kitchen. Akim, of all people, is sitting behind the counter, scarfing down his breakfast.
I try to act normal, deciding that to be the best approach after our encounter yesterday. If we both pretend like nothing happened, we can just move on without talking about the awkwardness of the situation.
“So, did you enjoy the show?” Oh. Pretending nothing happened is a no go then.
When I turn to him, his head is bent down to make quick work of the last pieces of his omelet, though his eyes are trained solely on me. I can tell he’s looking to analyze my reaction by the way his eyes focus on catching my every blink and expression. Act indifferent, Bianca.
“It was great .” I pause to collect myself. “Anyway, I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Ask away, princess.” He sits up and leans back, and I thank God that my response doesn’t trigger any more talk about the library.
“Why am I here?”
The question is so simple, but it is one that has plagued me since I was taken in that dark alley. I know it was to aggravate my father—maybe even have something to blackmail him with—but I don’t understand why . Lorenzo Rossi may be the head of the Italian mafia in this part of town, but there are other, bigger fish to fry. So why him?
“We had a sister. She died ten years ago.” He starts with a sigh, rubbing at the back of his neck. I can feel him becoming somewhat uncomfortable. “She was your age when she died. Twenty-nine.”
I start to feel sick to my stomach, not knowing how this conversation will end, but feeling in my gut that the outcome will probably hurt. He continues.
“She was found by Aleksei, but she lost too much blood by the time he got to her. She died in his arms. We were too relaxed, and Lina died because of it. After that, Aleksei went berserk, him and Dmitri did everything they could to find the one who did it to her. All the evidence we have points to your father, Lorenzo Rossi.”
I feel at a loss for words, not being able to imagine the pain these men had to go through after losing their sister. Tears well up in my eyes when I imagine something happening to Giorgia, a painful knot forming in my chest.
“I’m so sorry, I—“ I whisper, but Akim interjects.
“Don’t be, none if it is your fault. If anything, it’s that old bastard Rossi. For all it’s worth, I’m sorry you are involved, but this is the quickest way for us to repay that loss.”
None of this is fair. I wish I could turn back time and take that loss away from them—one that I wouldn’t wish even on my worst enemy. It makes sense now—why Aleksei would go to such lengths to punish my father specifically.
Akim slaps the counter awkwardly and gets up, walking off while I stand there.
I understand more now—I do—but I still feel angry. It is an odd mixture of emotions; gratitude that it is me here and not Giorgia, who might’ve faced more severe treatment from the Barkov brothers, but also anger that I— the unwanted bastard, for God’s sake —am the one paying for my father’s actions.