13
Mia
The rugged man opens the car door, expecting me to step in. My clumsy attempt has me stumbling in my dress, but he glances at me without offering any assistance. Once I manage to settle in, he joins me on the other side, taking a seat right beside me. The drive to my next opulent prison begins in complete silence, allowing my thoughts to race. Despite the intense blast of air conditioning in the car, I find myself sweating. The dress seems to grow heavier with each passing moment, and even the makeup applied feels like a burdensome layer on my skin. Heat creeps up my neck, causing my hair to stick uncomfortably to my skin. I take deliberate breaths in an attempt to regain control of my emotions.
I can do this. I can do this.
The drive is filled with awkward and uncomfortable silence, but fortunately for me, it doesn”t last too long. We eventually arrive at a massive gated estate. Another burly man emerges from the guard station, takes one look at the driver, and promptly opens the gate to let us pass through.
We come to a stop in front of the house, although calling it a house feels like an understatement; it”s beyond massive. The double doors swing open, revealing an older woman who steps out, accompanied by two more armed individuals. The woman wears a warm smile as she approaches, enveloping me in a tight hug.
“Hello, Mia Cara. My name is Marie. I”m the housekeeper for the Morelli home,” she says, maintaining her smile. With both hands on my shoulders, she examines my appearance before embracing me once more.
Taking my hand, Marie leads me inside, with the armed individuals trailing behind us. ”Give the girl some space; she isn”t going anywhere,” Marie shouts to the men, whom she introduces as Daren, my bodyguard, and Yusuf, my driver.
“Are they supposed to follow me everywhere?” I ask hesitantly.
“Not everywhere, but the boss told us to make sure you adjust well until he returns,” Marie replies. “Let’s get you changed and then perhaps something to eat.”
Marie leads me up the staircase and down the hall to my new cell––I mean bedroom.
“Don Sebastiano thought you’d appreciate your own space,” Marie explains, her voice soft as she gestures toward the door, leading me into a large bedroom.
My jaw practically drops as I step inside, stunned by the sheer size of the room. It”s like comparing a cramped closet to a spacious loft apartment. Marie stands beside me, her smile reflecting the warmth of the room.
”It”s beautiful, isn”t it?” she says, her voice carrying genuine kindness. I can only nod, overwhelmed by the unexpected luxury.
The walls are painted in calming shades of soft gray and pale blue, creating a tranquil atmosphere that instantly puts me at ease. And those floor-to-ceiling mirrors on one side? They make the room feel even bigger, doubling the space with the reflection of the sunlight pouring in through the windows. I can”t resist stepping closer to take in the view—it”s breathtaking. The city sprawls out below, a sparkling sea of lights that stretches as far as the eye can see. It”s like a whole other world out there, a welcome distraction from the chaos of the day.
And those curtains? They”re a rich, deep burgundy color, adding a cozy warmth to the room that makes it feel like a comforting embrace. Positioned in the center of it all is a large bed decked out in crisp white bedding that practically begs me to sink into it. The pillows are plump and inviting, and the comforter looks so soft I can almost feel it under my fingertips.
This room is like a sanctuary, a peaceful retreat from the outside world, a place where I can finally relax and unwind as I sink into the plush bedding.
”He isn’t the don, Marie,” comes a hardened voice at the bedroom door. I turn around to see the man behind the voice walking towards me. ”I’m Nico, Seb’s cousin,” he offers as he extends his hand.
“Sebastiano will be the new Morelli Don soon enough,” Marie whispers, more directed at me than explicitly saying it to Nico.
“Nice to meet you,” I respond, shaking his hand. Aside from the expensive fitted suit and burly demeanor, I discern an unmistakable resemblance between the two.
“What can my stupid cousin be doing that is more important than spending his wedding night with his new bride?” Nico questions sarcastically.
As soon as the words leave his mouth, tears that I”d been trying my best to hold back all day come flooding out. I”m not sure if his words were meant to hurt me or be a dig at my new husband. Fat tears trail down my face, carrying the layers of mascara with them, and the black-tinged tears drop on the stupid dress, tainting it like my day has been.
Between my sobs, I hear Marie tell Nico to get out of the room. Without looking back at him, I hear the door click shut. It is wrong to assume Marie left with him when I listen to her humming in the ensuite, running bathwater.
Her tone softens as she turns back to me. “Come, child, I”ll help you out of this dress and into a nice warm bath. It will help soothe you,” she says gently.
Allowing Marie to unhook the corset back and help me out of the dress, she guides me to the large bathroom.
Walking past the mirror, I finally catch a glimpse of the state I”m in. Black mascara streaks run down my face, and the foundation looks like it”s melting off my skin from the stream of tears that continue to fall down my face. I’m a mess.
The whole bathroom is steaming, the tub is filled with hot milky water, and the inviting scent of tangerine wafts through the air. I can”t wait to get into the water and wash the day away.
“I’ll get you a towel and a change of clothes, Mia Cara,” she says as she leaves me to soak my sorrows away in my thoughts.
Normally, I”d be embarrassed to be naked in front of anyone, but Marie feels like the grandmother that everyone wants to have—loving and gentle, yet still strong enough to kick Nico’s 6-foot butt out of the room. The calming water helps me regain my composure and get my emotions in check.
I can do this. I can do this.This becomes my mantra, repeated over and over.
Slipping my face under the water, I work to remove all of this over-caked makeup. A fresh face and being out of that dress already makes me feel better. I can”t help but wonder why I care that my husband showed up to our wedding drunk and then just passed me off to one of his soldiers. He didn”t even bother to spend his wedding night with his new bride. I know I”m being stupid. This is a marriage of convenience, not a fairy tale. Certainly not what any girl hopes for when dreaming up their wedding as a little girl.
Soaking in the tub for a while, finally, clarity starts to come back to me. If we do share a room, he would have certain expectations––expectations I don’t want to fulfill. At least not tonight. Now, I”m glad he thought this through because clearly, I didn’t. I really didn’t think past the actual wedding.
Grabbing one of the towels Marie brought in, I dry off with one and wrap my hair in another. Slowly walking into the bedroom, unsure who could be there, I see Marie sitting at the vanity. ”Have a seat, Mia Cara, and I will dry your hair for you.”
“You don”t have to. I can manage,” I reply softly.
“Nonsense. I am here to help you adjust to this life and help you with everything,” Marie says as she pulls the towel off my hair and starts to brush my tangled locks.
“Think of me as a second mother or a Fairy Mafia-Mother,” she adds with a warm smile.
A lump starts to form in my throat, her words striking a nerve. I was ready for Sebastiano to be an asshole, but I wasn’t prepared for such kindness. God, I’m an emotional wreck today.
Sitting in the vanity chair as she starts working on my hair, I meet her gaze through the mirror and notice bright blue-gray eyes reflecting back at me. We share a brief smile before she resumes.
After Marie finishes my hair, she hands me a pair of joggers and a tank top to change into. “We will need to get you everyday clothes to wear, but this will do for today. After all, you should be comfortable on your first day home. Now, let”s get you something to eat. You must be famished, Mia Cara.”
Once I’m dressed, I follow Marie down the stairs and find Nico and another brute deep in conversation. Ignoring him, I stick close to Marie as we walk through the main living room. The cold elegance of my new surroundings immediately strikes me. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive cologne mingling with the hint of cigar smoke.
Exquisite works of art adorn the walls––paintings and sculptures that showcase wealth. Crystal chandeliers bathe the marble floors in a warm, golden glow. Everywhere I look, there are signs of luxury – from the plush velvet draperies to the intricately carved furniture filling the room.
But beyond the lavish decor lies a sense of history, leaving me breathless. This mansion must have witnessed the generations of Morellis, each leaving their mark on the place.
This is my first day in Sebastiano”s mansion, and I feel a bit overwhelmed and alone. I wander the halls, hoping to distract myself from the solitude pressing in on me. However, as I find myself drawn towards the kitchen, a wave of apprehension washes over me. Memories of my father”s strict rules flood my mind, reminding me of the consequences I faced for even setting foot in his domain without permission.
Lost in my thoughts, I”m startled by Marie”s appearance in the doorway. Her warm smile is a welcome relief. ”Hey, Mia, everything okay?” she asks, her concern evident in her voice.
I swallow nervously, suddenly feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. ”Um, I was just... looking for something to snack on,” I mumble, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. ”But I... I”m not sure if I”m allowed to be in here.” Marie”s eyes widen in shock at my words, her expression one of genuine surprise. And then, to my astonishment, Marie looks over to another man standing in the kitchen with her. She introduces him as Roman, Sebastiano’s personal chef. Roman gives me a warm smile and continues to cook, not saying anything to me
”Mia, of course you”re allowed in the kitchen,” Marie says gently, her voice filled with reassurance. ”This is your home now, and you”re welcome to be here whenever you like.”
But as Marie speaks, doubts and fears creep into my mind, reminding me of the horrors I”ve endured at the hands of my father. Marie doesn”t know what he”s capable of – what he would do to me if he found out I”d snuck into the kitchen. And it wasn”t just when I was a child; it happened as recently as yesterday. Marie”s eyes soften with sympathy, and she reaches out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. ”Your father isn”t here, Mia,” she says softly. ”And you”re not a child anymore. You”re a grown woman, and you have every right to be here.”
Her words sink in, but I”m still haunted by the memories of my father”s anger and abuse. Tears well up in my eyes as I shudder at the thought. Yet, despite my fears, I find comfort in Marie”s reassurance.
To my surprise, Roman steps forward, his eyes gleaming with determination. ”Let me cook for you, Mia,” he says earnestly, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. ”I”ll make you a feast fit for a queen.”
I nod in gratitude, unable to find the words to express my thanks, as I watch him bustling about the kitchen.
While Roman is busy in the kitchen, Marie tells me that he’s a dedicated chef who will prepare all our meals; I just need to let them know my preferences, and they”ll take care of the rest. It”s something I”ll have to get used to. Back home, I had strict dietary restrictions imposed on me, often limited to certain foods or even instructed not to eat at all. Now, having a professional chef at my disposal feels like a whole new world of freedom.
When Roman emerges from the kitchen, he greets me with another warm smile. His thick Italian accent adds charm to his words, albeit making it a bit challenging for me to understand him. Yet, his eyes convey genuine compassion, putting me at ease. While I know enough Italian to get by, I realize I”ll need to brush up on it to communicate with him fully.
Marie gets up from her seat and helps Roman set the dining table with an array of dishes—paninis, pastries, bruschetta, Caprese salad, and Italian wedding soup—I can”t help but wonder if we”re expecting more guests. The spread seems too lavish for just a few people.
”Are we expecting more guests?” I ask, my curiosity piqued by the abundance of dishes.
“This is how every meal is served. I apologize that I only made sandwiches; I did not think anyone would be eating here today, with the wedding and all,” Roman apologizes.
”No need for apologies,” I assure him. ”This is perfect. Your warm welcome means a lot to me.”
Realizing nobody was sitting down, I felt a little uneasy. “Would you please join me?” I ask, hoping I don”t have to sit alone. Instead of a response, they look dumbfoundedly at me, like I just asked them to kill someone. Mustering up the firmest voice I can, “Sit! Everyone, sit! Please.”
Marie and Roman exchange a glance before complying. “A perfect match for Don Sebastiano,” I hear Roman murmur to Marie as they share a knowing smile.
”Mind if I join?” Nico asks tentatively.
”Sure,” I reply, feeling a bit surprised by his hesitance. After all, it”s his cousin”s house, and he shouldn”t feel the need to ask me for permission.
“Mia, I... I’m sorry if I upset you upstairs. It wasn’t my intention. I just came by to make sure you settled in, and I”m stunned that my bonehead cousin didn’t accompany you home. So, I thought you could use a friend,” he explains.
Nico”s apology catches me off guard, and I can”t help but soften. ”No worries, I won”t hold it against you,” I assure him, offering a small smile. He seems genuine, and I”m in no position to turn down a friend when I don”t have anyone here. It”s not like I had many friends at home. Cameron’s my only friend, anyways.
Dinner was surprisingly easygoing, especially after Nico”s apology. It felt unnecessary, but maybe I”m just extra sensitive from today. I offered to help tidy up after eating, but Marie and Roman insisted they”ve got it under control. I couldn”t help but notice there might be something more between them. I”ll have to keep an eye on their dynamic or casually ask Marie if either of them is seeing someone.
Now, I”m back in my room, unpacking the few boxes that arrived earlier. Besides clothes and shoes, I didn”t bring much else. I can”t say I want any reminders of my old life anyway.
I”m not even sure if these boxes were here earlier when I had that mini meltdown. I couldn”t see much through the blur of tears and mascara.
Mental note: ”Apologize to Marie for the tantrum and thank her for her kindness,” I remind myself, embarrassed about not keeping it together in front of her.
Exhaustion hits me like a ton of bricks now. Today”s events are finally catching up with me. I slip into a silk maroon camisole and matching shorts, then head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. Returning to the bedroom, I pull back the plush covers of the massive bed and get ready to climb in. Just as I reach for the covers, the bedroom door swings open, and my heart leaps into my throat at the sight of a very displeased Sebastiano standing there.
What”s got him all riled up now?