Chapter 9
9
A mara
If he lays one finger on you…
The way Massimo said that, with such fire in his eyes, still haunts my memory.
Two days ago, he left his home, our home. I should be thankful we opted out of a traditional honeymoon. If he had swept me over to some paradise island and fucked me all day, I'm not sure I could keep up.
Even now, as I walk, there's an awareness between my legs, a humming. An ache.
I thought he was done that night, but he woke me up, kissing my shoulders, and before I could realize it, his hands were all over me, and my pussy was soaking wet.
He railed me, deep and hard.
Is every night going to be like this? My heart races.
I’ve wondered what to do with my new life for the past few days. It's been so long since I thought about what I could do—I know what I want to do. Still, my family laughed when I suggested the idea of helping women survivors of domestic violence.
Besides, I can't say I'm free. I'm free from my family, but I'm not free like I am in any real sense. I may never get that.
Escaping my family was a mistake. Escaping my husband could end my life. I could be the one with body parts stuffed into my mouth. I cringe. Would he do it?
Why wouldn't he?
I sigh.
My phone buzzes. It's my mother. I ignore her call.
Then, a couple of seconds later, she texts.
Amara, you need to come over. Quick.
Another text.
Just come.
Okay, now I'm intrigued.
It's unlikely that a nemesis has invaded my family home and is now holding my parents hostage. A normal person would call the police if given the opportunity, but my dad's dealings would deter them. He always stayed away from law enforcement when his mind was clearer. Even with his steady confusion, I doubt my mom would want him to talk to anyone who could arrest him. Who knows what he'd end up saying?
So that leaves me. The spare child.
With Alonzo being in a coma, even though I'm not as capable as they judge me to be, in a situation of next-kin emergency, I'm it.
I text the driver, and he quickly meets me at the front of the house. During the day, he hangs out in the employee's quarters on top of the garage when he's not in the kitchen talking to Colleen.
Anthony takes me quickly. I don't convey to him that this is urgent. I've been my mom's daughter for too long not to make a scene if it isn't necessary.
When we arrive, Anthony stays at the front of the house after my mom opens the door. She looks at me and lets out a loud fake laugh, which tells me she’s nervous. To others, that sound is grating and annoying. To me, it signals something bad has happened.
Vittoria Montefiore is rarely nervous.
"Come to my room, honey. I bought some new stuff I've been dying to show you," she says, snatching me away toward the primary suite.
I follow her through the large hallways into the living room, filled with heavy mirrors, bronze finishes, vaulted ceilings, and impeccable décor. She closes the door after entering her and my father's massive suite.
"What is it?" I ask, knowing she won't take me into her gigantic closet.
My mother looks concerned, her fingers hovering over her chest. She wears a pristine white dress cinched at the waist to showcase her body, trim and toned even for someone her age. "Amara, the nurse noticed something last night. It's about your brother."
I plop on the chaise longue near her bed. My heart nearly jumps from my chest. That's it. Alonzo is dying.
In many ways, he hasn't been part of our family. But the hope he'd wake up one day is like the faraway vision of a lighthouse when you're adrift at sea on a stormy night. The light flickering, about to go out, the view blurry, but still standing.
And now, just like that, she's about to say it. Something happened, and my brother is gone. The lighthouse is about to disappear from view.
Tears well up inside me. Unlike all the other times I fought them, unwilling to let my mom see the weakness, I can no longer hide them.
"Amara," my mom calls me, a pang of impatience in her voice.
I look at her, and she's in the middle of the suite. A touch of fear flits across her green eyes, and the textured gray walls close in on us. This room has never made me as claustrophobic as I am now. What’s going on?
"Last night, Alonzo moved his head a bit. We thought it could be a body spasm or something of the sort. Then, the nurse came to get me in my bed at four am."
I square my shoulders. "Tell me."
"He opened his eyes. And spoke. Well, not a word I could understand, but groaned and made noises."
"That's—that's amazing. What did the doctor say?"
"Dr. Clark came over this morning and thinks your brother may be waking up from his coma. It's hard to say at this point what kind of life he'll be able to have. We'll need more exams."
The idea of having my brother alive again, in any capacity, fills me with hope. We always shared a good relationship. "Mom, that's incredible news. Why are you so tense?"
Mom snarls, then shakes her head. "Logical conclusions weren't always your forte, were they? Can't you see it? If your husband's family finds out that he's alive, they may kill him."
I ignore her diss, waving it off. "That's going too far. The whole reason we married was to unite the families and wealth. Why would they start a war?"
"I'm not saying it'd be a declared war. They can make it seem like an accident. Don't you see it? If he's alive, your marriage will have been for nothing. We don't need your husband's help anymore. We have a capable person at the helm. Your brother's life is a threat to the carefully drawn plan."
I let her words sink in. A shiver rolls down my spine, and the hair on the back of my neck stands on end. Of all the outlandish scenarios my mom has ever mentioned, this isn't one of them. I swallow, my throat so dry that my tongue almost sticks to the roof of my mouth. "What's the plan?"
"We'll take him to run some tests at the hospital. I have a contact there and will pay good money to ensure privacy. But depending on what they say, we may have to send your brother away somewhere safe, so if he is to get better, he can do it without disruption."
"Where are you thinking?"
She looks around the room, her energy still tense. "I'm not sure yet. The fewer people who know it, the better."
"How can I help?"
"I need you not to say one word to your husband. I mean, it's not like he'll come over and barge into Alonzo's room out of the blue. But employees talk. Sometimes, even after they're bribed not to. I can't risk your brother's life."
I nod. I know exactly what she means. "I won't say a word."
"And if you hear anything suspicious from his side, I need you to tell me immediately. We can't be too careful."
I chew my lower lip. I didn't expect to have to show my loyalty to my family so early into my marriage. I knew I'd have to, even if I didn't want to. But this isn't about my parents anymore. It's about my brother. That realization brings a sour taste to my palate. I can walk out on my parents, but not on Alonzo. "I understand."
"Do you? Because if you keep anything from me, Alonzo may die."
If mafia parenting guilt had an award, my mom would receive it with honors. "No pressure there, Mom. I promise." The weight of my words sits on my shoulders.
I've already vowed to betray my husband two days into my marriage. He promised to cut someone's finger off and make them eat it. What would he do with me if he found out this secret? What would he do to Alonzo?
"We can't hide Alonzo forever, though. If he gets better, he'll want to return," I say. If my brother is well, I don't see him agreeing to be away from the family business. Or acquiescing to a man like Massimo. Alonzo was always stubborn and strong-willed—and, in his defense, good at what he did.
"Honey, Alonzo opened his eyes and made sounds. It may be that he recovers well or doesn't do much else for the rest of his life. All I want is for him to have a chance at recovery. If your brother returns to being like he was… we'll deal with it. Come up with a plan. But we need time."