Chapter 3 #2
I tried to run. Once, I even made it to the edge of the estate.
But they always found me. They always dragged me back to my prison, and after spending days locked up alone, I quickly learned that the punishments for trying—and failing—to escape weren’t worth it.
I was losing my mind thinking about how fast my life had fallen apart, and sometimes I even went days without food.
I finally gave up when Dante showed me pictures of my little cousins playing outside their school in Italy. I knew then that I couldn’t risk their lives. I hadn’t been close to my mother’s sister, but I loved playing with my cousins the few times they came around.
My aunt never liked my father. After my mother died, she stopped bringing the kids over.
She never forgave my father for making my mother end her engagement to a wealthy man she was supposed to marry.
Every time she visited and saw things out of place because we couldn’t afford better, she would grumble and curse, as if her life as a single mother was any better.
But over time, I understood that my mother’s marriage to my father had ruined her family’s chance to escape poverty.
It got even worse after my mom got sick.
Eventually, my aunt stopped visiting altogether.
That’s why I never really bothered my father initially when he spent so much time away from home working.
He was trying to make up for everything he could have avoided if he had gotten his job with the Romanos when my mom was still alive.
Despite everything, I missed them. They were the only family I had left, and I knew they didn’t deserve to suffer because of me.
So I stayed. I told myself it wouldn’t be that bad, especially since, after that night with Francesco, I learned that he and his brother, Marco, had left for some family business. Elio didn’t pay much attention to me, and Dante was hardly around.
I barely saw them, the orchestrators of my misery, so I stayed. I didn’t have a home to go back to anyway.
I wipe my face roughly with the sleeve of my dress, trying to hold back my tears before they get a chance to turn into full-blown sobbing. I trail my finger over the round edge of the ring, remembering the way I’d slipped it off Dad’s lifeless finger before Dante’s men took me away.
I miss him so much, and I wish our last moments weren’t an argument.
The bell rings, a shrill, sharp sound that means it’s time to prepare for lunch. I wipe my tears and slip my ring back into its safety before quickly getting to my feet. I shakily smooth down my skirt and school my face into a blank and emotionless expression.
I step out of the room, into the narrow hallway lined with the faded photographs of the first generation of Romanos that lived in this estate. It’s obvious to anyone who steps into the estate that they care about their family history and legacy.
Heck, the whole city is fascinated by it too. It’s a shame their history is stained with evil and bloodshed. At least from what I’ve heard.
My thoughts are so distracted that I don’t see the person ahead of me before it’s too late. I collide hard with a tall, towering body.
Strong hands grab my arms to steady me, and when I look up, my stomach twists. The devil family’s second brother.
Marco Romano.
He’s grinning down at me like he’s in on some joke I don’t understand. His short hair is messy in a way that looks effortless, his shirt open at the collar, his sleeves rolled up. He smells like mint and the faint bite of expensive cologne.
“Careful, Stellina,” he says, his voice low and amused. “You’re going to bruise that pretty face if you keep running into people.”
As if realizing he’s still holding me, I jerk away from him like he repulses me. He doesn’t seem offended. If anything, his grin widens.
“I’m fine,” I say quickly, adjusting my blouse to distract myself from his pinning gaze. “Thank you.”
Marco leans one shoulder lazily against the wall, blocking my path without actually touching me. He looks me up and down, his gaze sharp but not entirely unkind.
“You don’t look fine,” he says, voice almost teasing but with an undercurrent I can’t quite place. “You look like you’re about two seconds away from snapping someone’s neck.”
I resist the urge to say, “Well, I am. Your whole family’s. Especially your brother.”
I stiffen but stay silent, not wanting to prolong this conversation any further.
He watches me for a moment longer, his hazel eyes dark and thoughtful. Then he says, almost too casually, “I’ve seen the way my brother looks at you.”
I force myself to keep my expression neutral, but something must flash across my face because Marco’s smile turns sharper.
“It’s not because he’s worried about you or can’t stop thinking about you or any of that shit,” he continues, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “He’s just curious. He wants to see how long it takes before you break.”
I huff without thinking. “I know.”
He smiles at me, and I notice it makes him look a bit younger. So far, he’s the least terrible of the Romano sons. That doesn’t make him a good person, though. He’s still a Romano, still has their tainted blood running through his veins.
“I like you,” he chuckles to himself. “Though I don’t think you like me.”
I give him a blank stare, and he barks out a laugh. “Let me clarify that I don’t expect you to like me, given the… circumstances.”
I almost crack a smile, but when he takes another step closer, my breath hitches.
He reaches out like he’s going to touch my hair. I swallow as the back of his fingers touches the side of my face.
“I wonder,” he says softly, leaning in close enough that I can feel the heat of his breath against my skin, “if I can do anything to change the hate you feel toward me.”
For a moment, I can’t move or breathe.
Then he steps back, gives me a wink that feels more like a warning than a flirtation, before strolling away down the hall without another word.
I stand frozen, my heart hammering in my chest. Marco certainly isn’t as evil as Francesco, and for a brief moment, his closeness made me feel… something.
Yet the only person I can think about as I continue my journey to the kitchen is his older and more terrible brother, Francesco.