Chapter 7
GIANNA
Dad was standing in the doorway of his and mom’s penthouse when the elevator door opened.
Bruno tried to stop me, tried to herd me into my apartment, saying my father will speak to me later, but I rushed at Dad anyway.
There would be no talking later after he killed Matteo, which I was certain would be happening.
I was not at all certain it wasn’t happening already.
He retreated to his study and I followed on wobbly legs, yelling at him all about how Matteo saved me, how I’d be dead if he wasn’t there… Chiara too. He didn’t say anything.
Except, “You should’ve thought about all this before you got yourself into trouble.”
Then he slammed his study door in my face and I didn’t dare open it.
He sounded angrier and more disappointed than I’d ever seen him. He looked like I’d mortally wounded him. And he sounded like there was no forgiveness to be had.
My mom told me to leave it, to go change into something more appropriate and get some sleep, and I simply obeyed her. Not the sleep part. That won’t come.
Every time I close my eyes, everything starts spinning and I see my dad’s face, dark bags under his eyes, hair out of place because he didn’t comb it properly, or because he’d been tugging on it all night, his tie askew, his shirt wrinkled, a brown stain on the front of it.
He looked like things are ending, that’s the only way I can describe it.
My father, the head of one of the most powerful families in New York, always in control, always looking picture perfect, looked totally disheveled.
Like he was on his knees. And I caused it.
Dawn is breaking in the distance, behind the low houses on the other side of the river.
Just a glow of white slowly turning yellow, slowly growing.
I reach under my bed and pull out the bottle of vodka I keep hidden there and take a swig, then another, and a third.
As I knew it would, the alcohol makes the room spin worse.
But I’d hoped it wouldn’t, I hoped it would take the edge off, make me stop thinking these heart-wrenching thoughts of endings and things crumbling to dust.
Just like Matteo’s life. He’s probably dead by now.
And all I see in my mind is his bright, beautiful face, so full of light and life, with a glow I’d never seen on a man’s face before.
It’s all glowing so much brighter now in my memories, because it most likely doesn’t glow at all anymore in real life.
Because he’s dead. Killed by my father for daring to save me and spend all of fifteen minutes with me without permission or supervision.
My curse has blossomed, extended beyond just men I’m engaged to, encompassing all men I connect with. Pretty soon it’ll be all men in my life. Maybe my brother fell victim to it too. Maybe my father is next. No one is safe.
If I could find the witch who laid this curse on me, I’d strangle her with my bare hands.
But that wouldn’t be enough to lift the curse.
It wouldn’t be enough to change the past.
Nothing can save me.
I drift off to sleep with those thoughts swirling like shadows all around me, spinning as the room spins, swallowing me in their cursed darkness. Where I belong.