Chapter 10
LELANI
Moments later, Rory and I leave the kitchen and blend with the crowd.
As soon as people talk to me, the room begins to spin with me.
After all these months of quietude, predictable life, and swimming in an ocean of solitude, this new environment is overstimulating, a bit too much.
I shouldn’t have agreed to this party for many reasons, not just this one.
Hands connect, and fake smiles stretch across my guests’ lips.
I don’t know half of these people. My family does, though. They’re using them as props while orchestrating my next departure.
Months from now, I could be living in a stranger’s house, under his rules, with not a smidgen of freedom.
The thought makes me queasy, and I grab Rory’s elbow and lean into her.
“Are you all right?” she asks.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” I say, hyperventilating.
A drop of sweat trickles down the back of my neck.
“I need some air,” I murmur. “Can you step outside with me?”
“Yes, of course. Do you want me to grab a drink for you? Water, maybe?”
“No. Nothing for me. Thank you.”
She picks up a lemonade from a server’s tray before we head outside.
The wind does wonders, sweeping my hair away from my face and giving me the much-needed relief I’m longing for.
“I wish this could be over soon,” I murmur, unable to ignore the unease crawling up my chest.
It’s like something bad is about to happen. Something that I don’t already know about.
I blame it on the swirl of panic nibbling at my brain, lacing my blood with adrenaline. I despise these moments when it feels like the end is here, and there’s no way out.
It’s been happening often lately.
Rory thinks it might be hormone-related. I argued that she should experience it as well if that were the case.
We both need men in our lives to take that edge off. It’s just that I need a certain man, while she apparently is doing just fine without one.
I press a warm hand against the pit of my stomach, and my own touch revives the memory of myself earlier this evening, when I climaxed at the thought of him.
It might be men-related, after all.
I can only imagine that having that potent cocktail of good chemicals in my blood after having sex and removing some of this tension would make me see things in a less frightening light.
Maybe I’m just delusional.
One thing is sure.
I wouldn’t touch a random man now, unless I wanted to give him a death sentence.
My mother put too many men into the ground with her fickle nature and wandering eye.
I don’t want to walk the same path as her.
As we squeeze by a group of people, I drag my gaze over the crowd.
The house looks beautiful, dimly lit in the background, with flowers and balloons floating on the water.
A sweet smell travels from the thicket of blooming shrubs lining one side of the pool.
I so wish I could be away from here.
All my fretting over seeing Callum tonight was just a silly girl's dream.
Little did I know that my life would take a dramatic turn and I’d be facing such a brutal reality.
Still, I’m very much infatuated with him. It’s the only way I know to keep myself sane while walking this path of perdition.
I notice Sylvia’s shining hair and gown across the pool, next to the steps leading to the house.
Giorgio stands next to her, conversing with a group of men I’ve never seen in my life.
My heart races as I move my eyes over their faces.
Some are old. A few are young. They can’t be here for me. Please, no.
I’ve never met the Sandoval brothers, let alone Andrea Mancuso. I know things about them because of the gossip that had made the rounds, but I’ve never had the opportunity to run into them.
No surprise there.
My exile hasn’t only kept me away from New York, my best friend, and the world I knew. And why not Callum.
My exile, I come to understand, has been a very effective way to keep me away from the kind of men who could ruin my family’s plans.
It has also been an efficient way to keep me away from anyone who could mess with my head.
Smart bunch of tricksters, my family is.
I suck in a long breath and run tense fingers through my hair.
There’s no need to spiral down in panic until I know exactly who they have in mind to pair me up with.
I notice a couple of handsome men in that group, and I also spot Nona not far from us.
As if she can get a sense of my turmoil, she slides her eyes to me, and I suggestively tilt my head toward that group of men.
“That’s them,” she says quietly, and I read her lips more than I hear her voice.
The Sandoval brothers. Marco and Antonio. But it's not only them. To me, this doesn’t look like a gathering to discuss marriage arrangements.
It looks more like a business meeting.
Giorgio is up to something––so much for thinking that I was his favorite person.
I’m only a pawn in a much bigger plan.
A footnote in my family history.
Nothing of relevance, perhaps a nice bonus.
A way to seal a deal, show a gesture of goodwill.
Ugh.
The older men are old to me.
They’re in their sixties, judging by their salt and pepper hair and ridiculous demeanor. They look like art collectors about to bid on a rare find.
I feel like I’m about to faint.
More sweat trickles down my back as I look around for anything that could help me.
I grab a cold glass of champagne, press the condensation-covered glass against my forehead, and take a sip under my best friend's worried eyes.
I put on such a brave face when I had talked to her earlier, and now I’m losing it.
I drink half of my champagne and quickly feel the warmth of the alcohol sweeping through my veins.
It’s probably not the best idea.
And I might also need something stronger.
I signal to one of the servers and ask for hard liquor.
The man barely nods in acknowledgment when a voice rings behind me.
“Bring her a glass of water,” Sylvia says, gesturing at him. “And hurry.”
She grabs my arm and pulls me away from Rory, who witnesses everything helplessly.
“What are you doing?” she asks under her breath, the irritation in her voice hitting me like a ton of bricks.
I knew tonight was important. I didn’t think it was that important for her to stage a solo intervention.
“I need you to keep it together for once, Leilani,” she says quietly but just as firmly as she shakes me. “You can’t make an ass of yourself.”
Annoyed, I yank my arm out of her lock and turn to face her.
My eyes have no filter when they shoot fury in her direction.
“Can you just, for once, let me do what I want? It’s my birthday party, and I want to have a drink. I don’t need your permission for that.”
Her lips slide into a firm line as she stifles a retort.
I see how hard it is for her to keep her temper under control. I notice how difficult it is to compel herself to perform a little longer so that I fall into the trap they set for me without a fight.
“It wasn’t my idea to bring these people to my party. And for sure, it isn’t my idea to look for a husband. I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”
Her dark expression thickens for a second before something happens, and she slowly relaxes, a soft smile curling her lips.
“Sweetheart, you do need a man. Have you seen what’s out there? Giorgio and I will be gone at some point. The money won’t be powerful enough to protect you. A man, and not any man, will give you what you need and keep you alive,” she says, gauging my reaction.
I can’t believe her.
Does she think I’m that stupid?
“Why don’t you let me worry about that then?” I throw at her before gesturing at Rory to follow me inside.
My friend doesn’t even have the chance to take a step in that direction when Sylvia’s mask falls off.
She grabs me by the elbow, spins me to her, and almost spits on my mouth when she speaks.
“Listen to me. It’s not up to you what you do with your life. You were born into this family, whether you like it or not, and you need to follow our rules. There’s no way around it unless you want to end up dead like your mother.”
A few moments of silence float in the air, the sharp blade of an accidentally revealed truth moving slowly over my awareness.
“She couldn’t give a damn about your rules,” I retort.
“Exactly. And where is she today?”
A spiteful grin arches her lips.
“She’s not here to see her daughter celebrating her twenty-first birthday, is she? I thought you were smarter than her.”
“I am. That’s why I want to make my own decisions.”
She stops, sucks in some air, and pushes out a strained exhale.
“You can’t, Leilani. I thought these two years had taught you a lesson.”
Disdain tickles my lips, making them move into a sneering grin.
“They only taught me that I couldn’t rely on you.
And you just proved it to me now. It’s one thing to ask me to meet new men, and it’s quite the other to dictate to me what to drink or eat.
You want me to show up and shake hands with those men?
Then fuck off and wait for me. I’ll be there whenever I finish my drink. ”
Her eyebrows slide up in disbelief.
She’s never had anyone in her life talk to her like that. No one dared to disregard her wishes.
She ponders the best course of action before gracing me with a clipped dismissive gesture.
“Fine, have your damn drink. We’re waiting for you in the dining room inside. The one in the back,” she adds, and without looking at me, walks away holding her skirt up to avoid her heels getting caught in the hem.
Rory and I look at each other. Her eyes glimmer with indignation and admiration.
“Wow. That was something,” she murmurs. “Is she always that nasty and demanding?”
I shake my head in response.
“No. They’ve ignored me my entire life,” I say, running a hand over my abdomen to smooth my dress and calm down. “This must be really important,” I murmur, mostly to myself.
“You handled yourself well,” she says, gently stroking my forearm to soothe my nerves.
Her touch helps me deal with my panic, but even in my cool-headedness, I realize that things are dire.
Yeah… My grandmother’s energy was dark and vile.
I’ve never seen her more determined to force me into something I don’t want.
Whatever they had planned for me can’t be good, or she wouldn’t be so unhinged and so against me.
“If you say so,” I say quietly, looking for the waiter.
The man brings me a glass of water.
I take it and down the water, my hand held high in warning, making him wait for my next order.
I hand him the empty glass and ask him to fill it with grappa.
He softly nods and makes a beeline for the bar.
“It was a small battle,” I say, turning to Rory, with a lump of angst in my throat.
I’ll miss seeing her sweet face if anything happens to me, and I have no doubt that it will.
I’m almost choking on tears when I take her hand and squeeze it gently.
“I want you to promise me something,” I say quietly. “Whatever happens to me, I want you to stay in touch with me. I’ll find a way to talk to you. And never trust what my family says about me. They’re all liars. All right, Rory?”
My tears threaten to break through my eyelashes and roll down my cheek, so I stop to recollect myself.
She nods a few times, just as scared and emotional as I am, but I can’t have that. I can’t see my reflection in her eyes, or I’ll cry for days.
Winding my arms around her frame, I try to comfort her, and holding her flush against my chest, I’m hugging her as if she is the only thing that matters in my life.
A few seconds pass before I break away with a faint smile on my lips and grab the drink the waiter’s brought me.
“This will help,” I say before taking a swig.
The alcohol travels down, instantly warming me. It’s like an army of ants rushes down my skin.
I swiftly straighten and take another sip.
“Mmm… This makes me feel so much better,” I murmur, finally feeling at ease.
And then, just as I bring my glass to my lips again and stare at the crowd with an 'I don’t give a fuck' attitude, my heart stumbles.
Tall and magnificent, reaching the top of the stairs followed by a group of men most likely armed to the teeth, with a beautiful brunette on his arm, the man who owns my heart and now steps on it, breaking it to pieces, scans the gathering with a cold smirk on his lips.
I’m sure he’s not searching for me as much as I’m sure this evening will go down as one of the worst in my life.
I can’t breathe as I watch him inch closer to my grandparents’ group. Are they okay with him bringing another woman here?
Isn’t he supposed to respect my mother's memory?
Well, apparently, they are and treat him like a king. Because he is. Just not in my house.
Rory touches my hand softly.
She never met him, so she doesn’t know about him.
All she knows is that I have a crush on a mysterious man. I’ve never told her about Callum O’Hara and the role he’s played in my life.
I couldn’t tell her. I didn’t want to scare her away.
I need her in my life as much as I need him.
“Lani?”
“I’m fine,” I say, running my fingers over my lips and moving my eyes from him to the woman and then back to him.
I’m dying inside, the fabric of my soul unraveling little by little.
Why now?
Why tonight?
Why bother coming?
The timing couldn’t be worse.
It’s like a guillotine is slowly severing my head.
Taking its time, it unhurriedly squeezes every drop of blood from my body.
Tonight it’s my birthday, and it already feels like I’ve aged a decade over these past two hours.
Why?
Why did it have to happen now?
What is life trying to tell me?
It’s not only that I’m slowly crumbling inside.
The ground is moving under me as if it’s trying to open up and swallow me whole.
I wish it could.
It would show me more mercy and more love than anyone in my life has ever shown.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I bring my glass to my mouth and empty it.
This thing is way bigger than I thought, and it might kill me in the end, but I’m ready to meet my fate.