Ten
DARIO
I can’t sleep. The expression on Liana’s face when I told her she didn’t belong plays on repeat like a horror show I can’t escape. It haunts my mind. I caused the pain in her pretty brown eyes and I’m a dick because of it.
Voicing your feelings and emotions is an impossible thing, because if the wrong person overhears you, they can twist your words into a weapon of their own design. It also gives your enemies the knowledge of your weaknesses, encouraging them to destroy everything—your empire, lifestyle and family—you’ve built, just so you can have them back in one piece. And the truth is, you don’t always get that decency.
In my line of work, nobody is a stranger to burning down the establishments you’ve spent your whole life building and destroying the mentality and physical condition of those you love; you’re more likely to get your loved ones back as a completely different version, never to be the same again. You can only do so much to help restore them, but they’ll never be the same. No matter if your downfall is a person or thing, it always ends the same; either death or the inability to change the outcome that awaits. It’s something I wouldn’t wish on anyone except my worst enemies.
Besides, how could I ever voice my feelings to someone who despises me more than I do them?
Swinging my legs over the side of my bed, I push my palms deep into the mattress to lift myself and watch as a shadow passes by my door.
I dart upright and slip my hand under the pillow to retract my gun, tucking it in the front of my waistband before heading out of my room and turning left. It’s a little ritual I do. I never leave my room without it. It follows me everywhere.
I tiptoe to the end of the hallway and down the staircase, searching my surroundings as I go. Whoever this is could be a friendly. However, with my entire family living under my roof and in surrounding houses throughout the estate, I can’t take the risk. If somehow someone found their way into my compound with the intention of hurting us, I’ll get the first crack before unleashing Silas to finish the job.
Inching closer to the kitchen door, I push it open a crack for me to see through, while my other hand finds its way to my gun, only then do I watch as a petite shadow wanders around the kitchen.
Releasing my weapon, I drag the door stop from beside the door and slide it beneath it, exhaling as I retreat backwards and my back becomes flush against the wall behind me. It feels cold against my skin, but soon the warmth of my body transfers to it, making it a bearable temperature.
I feel like a creep watching as she opens the kitchen cabinets. In the few days that she’s been here, she’s become accustomed to the way things work—if you want to be alone, it’s easier at night. It’s almost like during the day, everyone’s running off the energy of the sun and they become the most annoying they’ll ever be, but in the quiet of the evening, they’re all worn out and ready to be alone.
I continue to admire her small frame as she stands on her tiptoes trying to reach a mug. The motion raises her nightgown slightly, showing the edge of her underwear and she huffs exasperatedly as she gives up before climbing onto the counter. She pushes her hair behind her ears as she reaches up again and retracts a mug. She then places the glass beside her and pushes herself down, her nightgown getting caught beneath her, giving me a clear view of her ass.
She walks over to the refrigerator and pours herself a mug of milk before turning to the microwave. After thirty seconds, she stirs the liquid with a spoon and takes a sip. With a smile on her face, she rinses the spoon and places it on the draining board before she walks towards the door. Attempting to stay out of sight of her swift movements, I lean back into the darkness to blend into the shadows; she’s so oblivious to my presence that it’s concerning. As my wife, she should have eyes in the back of her head. No one should be able to get the upper hand on her from the shadows.
I listen to her bare feet pat against the floor as she ascends the stairs and close my eyes as if that will help me hear her bedroom door close. Once I’m certain she’s locked away again, I stealthily make my way back to my room.
It’s weird knowing that we’ll both share this room soon. If she’s anything like me, she’ll want her own space and I won’t deprive her of that, but creating life while sleeping in separate rooms presents a new challenge. I also don’t want to pressure her into having sex when she doesn’t want to, but for her to fulfil her end of the deal and provide me with an heir, it is required. None of this makes me out to be a good guy.
Sitting at the edge of my bed, I lay back, the cold chill of my bed bringing me comfort and clarity. I need to set things straight and fast. She’s not as spoiled or as bratty as I pictured her to be. She may be a businessman’s daughter, but she’s also a struggling businessman’s daughter.
Picking myself up again, I tread my way through the hall, stopping outside of her bedroom door. I did not think this through clearly. What the hell am I going to say to her? “Hey Liana, just so you know, personal space is the best. We can have sex in my room and then you can go back to yours.” That sounds like I’m calling her cheap, like a hooker or something. God, I’m royally fucked here.
Without warning, her door swings open and my eyes dart down as I watch hers slide up to meet mine. “Uhm, hello?” she says, confusion lacing her words. I cough, knowing I’ve been caught in the act. “Are-are you okay? Did you need something?”
“I’m sorry, I-I didn’t think this through,” I admit.
“Come sit,” she says, surprising me. She steps aside, granting me entry. “I don’t bite, Dario.”
“I beg to differ,” I respond mentally.
I hesitate, but walk in as she retreats back to her bed, propping herself up at the headboard and grabbing a pillow, hugging it to herself.
“You can close the door. I don’t mind.” Her words surprise me and her attitude is much different than usual. It’s unnerving, to say the least.
I half-shut the door and walk towards her, stopping at the foot of her bed. “I-I wanted to apologise, you know, for all this,” I say, swaying my hand out to signify our situation. “If I had any say at all, you wouldn’t be here and this wouldn’t be happening.”
“Sit,” she says, her voice calm, displaying a hand out at the end of the bed. “I think we both have things to say to each other and you standing makes me a bit uncomfortable. So, please,” she continues, her hand still mid-air.
I nod once, perching myself on the very edge of her mattress, my ass barely touching it. “Did you want to start? I haven’t quite figured out what I came here to say,” I admit, staring at a specific spot on her wall illuminated by the moonlight shining in from a gap in the curtains.
“Sure, I can start,” she says, wriggling herself into an even more upright position. “I want to apologise for my forwardness before—”
“And kicking Red in the balls,” I interrupt with a light laugh. “He’s still uptight about that, you know.”
“Oh no, not that. I meant that in every sense of the aggression I showed.” Her face turns cold and she stares at me as if she does in fact mean it. “I want to assure you that, as your wife, I won’t show that kind of aggression towards you. I’m not an easily angered person; there’s just something about him that annoys me.”
“His face?” I chime in. “If so, I would agree with you there.”
She shakes her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “That’s not important right now.” She inhales deeply. “I spoke to my father, Dario, and the tone of his voice tells me he’s changed. Where he once held empathy and care for me… it’s all gone. He’s become a person I wouldn’t recognise if I came face to face with him again. All of this… us”—she moves her hand between us—“it’s because of him. Not you. It wasn’t anything you could control or refuse. Only he could. If he tried hard enough, he could’ve made another deal to spare me the heartache of becoming someone’s wife— your wife. The only person to blame here is him. I know that now.”
A scattered breath escapes me, my eyes finally finding her. “Your father was once a good man, Liana, and I want you to know that. He was once a man who cared more about his family than money and stature in this world. He loved you with every sense of his being. But somewhere along the way, things changed and he became a shell of himself. He pushed aside everything that mattered and replaced it with more money. He thought it would make his troubles disappear, until it blew up in his face.”
“I don’t need you to make things better, Dario, especially not with lies. I never knew him; I know that now. He was never the doting husband or father he portrayed himself to be. He was always a liar, masking his feelings with a facade that was impossible to detect.”
“Liana—”
“No,” she yells, cutting off my quiet words. “Nothing you do or say will ever make me see my father in a different light. He’s a liar and a pathetic excuse for a man. He doesn’t deserve me as a daughter or a wife like Chiara. We both loved him with everything we had until he threw it back in our faces.”
She sniffles softly, wiping away angry tears. “Do you know what he said to me earlier?” I shake my head, letting her continue. “He said that I was a means to an end, whatever the fuck that means. You know, the public adores my father now. The papers are covered with my face, saying I made my father proud by falling into your arms, when he knows damn well he shoved me into them. He’s making statements with a fake smile and crocodile tears running down his face for ‘losing me’, knowing he could’ve saved me. Instead, he didn’t realise that by making me do this, he really did lose me. He lost the one consistent thing in his life.”
“Liana,” I say, lowering my voice, and inching closer until I’m directly in front of her. “You will always be his daughter. Your DNA proves that. But you don’t have to be family. Take me, for example; my father isn’t in my life and I’m doing fine without him.”
“But Vincent is here,” she says, taking a sip of her milk. “He’s here and very much in your life.”
I shake my head, a soft laugh escaping me. “Vincent is my father, yes, but he… He’s my stepfather. My biological one, you know, my sperm donor, he was a bastard and hasn’t been in my life since I was like, five. I don’t remember anything about him because even when he was around , he was an absent parent, a pathetic excuse of a man, and a raging alcoholic.”
“But as you said, DNA proves nothing. Vincent stepped up and became that father figure you lacked. You have two parents who love you more than anything. What do I have, hmm? I have a deadbeat mother who left when I was an infant and a father who traded me in for no interest on his debt. I was a burden to one and collateral damage to the other… Sounds like a nice family, doesn’t it?”
I place my hand on her knee, and my thumb strokes her skin with a light touch. “Liana, whoever your family is doesn’t always dictate who you are as a person. So far, I can see the differences between you and your father—you’re strong.”
Pulling away from her, I turn slightly to face her. “I know when to admit when I’m wrong, Liana, and if this ever leaves this room, I’ll deny it until I’m blue in the face, but you can most definitely hold your own. Now, if you don’t want to train to be better at it, you don’t have to, but I strongly encourage you to. I want to know that I’ve done everything in my power to ensure you’re safe and protected because you're innocent in all this. Like you said, you’re collateral damage, but you’re my responsibility now.”
She flashes me a soft smile. “It’s a good idea.” Her words are quiet.
“Good, I’m glad you agree.”
“Your mother and Kat talked me into it. They shared their war stories and they’re still here because they trained to protect themselves. I know how to defend, but not how to protect myself. It’s the difference between life and death, Dario. I know that now.”