4. Theá
Chapter four
Theá
I stomp up the stairs and rip open my bedroom door.
No. There’s no fucking way this is happening.
I start pacing in front of my bed, my thoughts running a mile a minute. Everything was fine this morning. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I should’ve known better.
“Fuck,” I grunt out, grabbing my hair. I should’ve seen the signs—nothing happens without my father’s okay. I should’ve been more suspicious about Pierre wanting to take us out.
Why this? Why me?
A burning sensation claws up my throat as tears prickle at my eyes. It all sounds too familiar, too similar to my mother—too many things in common.
I can’t. Won’t. Do this—
“Theá.” Kylian’s voice slices through the air.
My head snaps up to his briefly, before I look down at my boots again as I continue to pace. Then something occurs to me.
“You knew?” I ask, my pacing halts.
“Theá, I need you to calm down.”
“Calm down?” I chuckle. “ Calm down ? You want me to calm down?” I raise my voice, eyes wide as I stare at him. “Kylian, how the fuck do you expect me to calm down when I’ve just been told I’m being sold off to settle some debt?!”
He looks at me with an apathetic expression, not even remotely surprised by my reaction.
“God, I can’t believe you knew. How long did you know?”
He sighs, eyes dropping to his hands.
“How long, Kylian?”
“A while.”
“And you didn’t tell me?”
“I knew you’d run. We all did. You already want nothing to do with this, it would’ve been your final straw before leaving,” he says, trying to justify his fucked up logic.
“It is my final straw. I’m not doing it. You and Dad can have me killed before I marry that man.” I throw my hands up as I walk over to my bed and sit down. “I’m not doing it, Kylian. This is what they did to Mom. I’m not doing it.”
Within seconds, he’s crossing the room. His hand grabs onto either side of my face and pulls it to look up at him.
His hazel eyes bore into mine. It was once my favourite feature of his because it reminded me of my mom’s. He’s the only one who inherited her eyes, but now all I can see is darkness behind them. The man in front of me is the shell of my younger brother, filled with the poison of my father. He looks so empty. There are times when I see glimpses of his old self, but I’ve learnt very quickly his loyalties lie with my father and not with us.
He’s just about a year older than Noelle, but he looks older than Pierre just by how the stress is starting to take its toll on him.
“You have to do this, Theá. It’s your duty.”
I slap his hand away from my face. “Fuck duty. I never wanted to be a part of this, and neither did Mom. I won’t do it.”
“You’re not her, Theá. This man will be the downfall of our family.”
“The only downfall of our family was when you and Dad started choosing the cartel over family.” I glare at him. “You may be okay with sacrificing your siblings to be underboss, but I’d rather die making my own decisions than live under his control.”
“You’ll never be free from this, Theá. You were born into it, there’s no way out.” He shrugs. “It’s easier if you don’t fight it—you’re going to marry him whether you like it or not.”
Footsteps grow louder, and soon Pierre enters my room.
“Think about it,” Kylian says, and with one final look between Pierre and I, he leaves.
We let the room fill with silence until we know he’s gone. Pierre closes the door before turning to me. “What was that?”
“He came to tell me how it’s my duty to the family to marry this guy.” I sink further into my bed.
Pierre stays quiet. Too quiet.
“Did you know?”
Silence again. When I meet his eyes, I can see it immediately. The guilt. It’s as clear as blood in snow.
I shake my head in disbelief. “This is what h-happened t-to he-her,” I choke as my tears flood out.
Pierre rushes over to me and wraps me in his arms.
“Shhh, it’s not the same.”
“Yes. Yes, it is. She had to marry him, and th-then when sh-she refused they…” I can’t even bring myself to say the word.
“Theá…it’s okay. You’re not her,” Pierre tries to reassure me. But his words hold no weight against my raging thoughts.
If I’m not her, then why do I see her whenever I look in the mirror? Why do I hear her whenever I speak? Why is she everywhere? It feels as if I’m doomed to the same stupid fate as her, as if all my father’s decisions have just brought us full circle to the same story thirteen years later.
“Theá, I need you to listen to me.” Pierre pulls my body away from his, attempting to wipe away the tears that are still falling. My body shakes as I try to comprehend all of this. “This is your chance. This is our chance.” I try to blink back my tears to clear the haze of colours in front of me. “I have a plan, but I need you to play along with this. Can you do that for us?”
“What plan?” I reach up to wipe my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I don’t have time to explain right now, Theá. It’s a plan to get us out. I need to know if you can fake this until I’m able to tell you more.”
His words stop my tears at the source. Drying up the sadness, replacing it with determination and the smallest shred of hope.
“All of us? Noelle, too?”
“Yes. Can you do this?” he begs, shaking my shoulders slightly.
“Yes.”
This is the absolute last thing I want to do right now, but if there’s even the slightest chance that this could mean a way out for all of us, they might as well get my Oscar ready—because I’m about to put on the best performance of my life.
“You can’t tell anyone about this, Theá. Absolutely no one. Not even—”
His sentence is cut off by the door flying open.
“Eleanor,” he finishes his sentence, looking over at the devil herself.
“Why does it smell like depression in here?” she asks, looking around.
When her eyes land on what I assume to be my tear-stained face, her expression contorts in confusion. “What the fuck is going on?”
“I’ll let you explain.” Pierre kisses my forehead before standing to leave.
“Pierre,” Eleanor says.
“Eleanor, good to see you again,” he says, closing the door behind him as he exits.
“Why are your eyes sweating so much? Do I need to beat someone up?” Eleanor asks, holding her fists up.
I sniff and wipe my eyes again. “I’m okay, just some family shit.” I shrug it off and get up to walk over to my ensuite to rinse my face.
“Yeah, and I’m 6’6. I’ve known you for half my life. You are a horrible liar.”
I let out the most obnoxious snort. Eleanor is 5’2 at best, and even Noelle is nearly a head taller than her. What Eleanor lacks in height, she makes up for in beauty—she’s the book definition of an Instagram model. Curves in all the right places, skinny in all the others, and a face that most supermodels envy. Long, black hair cascades down her back until nearly her ass, the dark colour contrasting her pale, beige skin. And don’t get me started on her perfect eyelashes.
“It really is family stuff, though, Eleanor. I’m not even sure if I can talk about it.”
“But you tell me everything, Theá. Besides, you know I’ll find out eventually.”
She’ll actually find out soon since my father told me all of this had to happen by next weekend. So whether I like it or not, the entire world will eventually find out that I’m marrying Antonio Vitale.
Vitale. Even the surname sounds weird.
Theresa Vitale.
Theá Vitale.
I’ve heard worse, I suppose, but it just sounds so unnatural compared to Theá Auclair.
“I’m getting married next weekend,” I blurt out, not even thinking as I continue to ponder about my soon-to-be surname.
“Is he cute?”
There are many emotions I expect Eleanor to react with, but the one I wasn’t prepared for was nothing. Absolutely nothing.
“I just told you I’m getting married next week, and your only question is if he’s cute ?”
“My next reaction will depend on what your response is.”
I look at her in the mirror. She’s leaning against the door frame, looking borderline ethereal and overall unbothered, while I look like a wet rat that was dragged from Paris to Marseille.
You know who doesn’t look like a wet rat? Antonio. And I hate it. It would make it a million times easier to hate him and fake all of this if he was ugly or at least average, but no. Of course, God sent me a 6’5, green-eyed, curly-haired, glasses-wearing pinnacle of a man to marry.
And under normal circumstances, that would be exactly what I dreamt of, but not right now. Not when I need to stay focused.
“By your silence, pink ears, and slight smile, I’m going to take that as a yes.” Eleanor’s voice rips me from my hormone-induced daydream.
“He’s okay.” I grab a towel and dry off my face.
Lies.
“That’s all you should be focusing on then.”
“All I’ll be focusing on is the fact that this is strictly business.”
I’m sure he’ll leave the first chance he gets, anyway. But until then, I’ll be using him and his pretty green eyes to get the fuck out of this hell hole. Even if I have to drag him down with me.