Chapter 1 #2
The paranoia that someone is watching me has been at the back of my mind since that night.
It’s burned into my soul, buried in my bones, and seared into my mind.
Today was just one of those days where I can’t walk around without thinking someone is following me.
It usually ends with me in bed by two in the afternoon, panicking and hyperventilating under the covers.
But I can’t do that right now, because I need to head over to Valentina and Emiliano’s place in an hour. Instead of showering and throwing on better-fitting clothes, I stay rooted in my spot, paralyzed by the fear that if I move, everything will fall apart.
It takes me longer than I’d like to admit. My palms hurt; the skin is red and moon-shaped crescents are indented into my palm. I shoot a message to Valentina.
Me:
Hey Val, I’m going to be half an hour late.
Took a long shower lol.
I shouldn’t lie, but being honest feels like it’s a worse option.
Her reply comes back quick.
Val:
It’s cool. No worries.
Take your time. Hope it was a good hot shower.
Me:
Thanks. Hot showers all the way.
She hearts my last message, and with that, I set my bags in my walk-in closet. My dress pools at my feet and my fingers brush over the raised lines on my thighs—some faded, some fresh. The newer ones are still tender.
Some days, the memories choke me, curling around my throat like invisible hands. And on those days, when I hate myself just a little more than usual, I find relief in the only way I know how.
I don’t remember getting out of the shower. Or wrapping a towel around myself.
But I’m here, sitting at my vanity, a brush in my hand, swiping bronzer over my cheekbones. My reflection watches me, distant. I don’t recognize myself.
The girl in the mirror has my face, my features, but something is off.
Her eyes are too hollow. Too haunted. She looks like a stranger.
My hand trembles, the brush slipping from my fingers.
It clatters against the vanity, rolling onto the floor.
I press my palms onto the glass and lean in, my breath fogging up the mirror.
Come back. Come back.
A knock at the door makes me jolt.
“Mara?” Ma’s voice is soft. She has no idea I just drowned in my past.
I swallow, reaching for a pink lipstick. Mask back on.
“Yeah,” I call out, voice steadier than I feel. “I’ll be down in a sec.”
I press my lips together, making sure the lipstick blends well, before I stand and run my hands through my hair.
Ma is downstairs by the door waiting for me, a basket of food on her hip. She smiles at me, soft and bright.
“Ready?” she asks.
I nod, looping my arm through hers. “Yes, let’s go. I’m already late enough.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something before she closes it and shakes her head.
We take the limo to Val and Eli’s place. The ride doesn’t take long, but I can see our driver, Sam, looking in the rearview mirror a couple of times as if he’s nervous.
And for a second, that same exact feeling I had when I was at the mall is back. Goosebumps on my arms, the hairs on the back of my neck rising. I look out the back window to see if there’s something there, but I can’t make out anything because New York is filled with cars.
I brush it off. I know I’m just being paranoid, but I can’t help but surrender to the terror that rips out from the memories of being under Helen’s control.
By the time we reach the underground garage of Eli’s complex, I’ve completely forgotten about the entire thing. My thumb brushes the call button on the private elevator for the penthouse.
Valentina’s voice crackles through the tiny speaker. “I’ll let you up, Mara.”
Ma and I step inside the elevator, our guards stay downstairs, manning the doors.
The doors slide open into Eli and Val’s open living room, complete with the ceiling-to-floor window, showing me a view of New York City at sunset. Ma steps out of the elevator first, hugging Valentina. I follow her, my fingers toying with the hem of my dress.
“Hey. Thanks for watching Bianca for us. You know you didn’t have to,” Val says, giving me a kiss on the cheek, her hands wrapped delicately around my shoulders.
“You know I wanted to. Besides, who can say no to little Bee?”
Emiliano chooses that moment to come into the living room, holding Bianca in his arms. He must’ve heard me, because he grumbles, “Lucio apparently can.”
“Stop complaining. Your brother doesn’t have to watch Bianca,” she tells him.
He gives her a grin, kissing the top of her head. I didn’t think there would be a day when my brother actually found love. He loved us, but he always said that marriage was a chore. A duty. Something to benefit the Camorra.
“Hey, Ma.” Eli moves toward Ma and also gives her a kiss on the head. “How have you been? Ronaldo said you were going in for more scans.”
Ma brushes his question off as she takes Bianca off his hands. “It’s nothing. No need to worry. How’s my granddaughter?”
Bianca beams at her nonna, giving her a smile.
“Oh, my God. When did she get her second tooth?” I ask, moving closer to Bee.
“She’s been teething for a while now, and crying for weeks,” Eli says.
When I look at him, I spot a volatile and vulnerable look in his eyes, his gaze locked on his daughter. I pity the fucker who’s going to fall in love with her.
“You guys need to head out. We’ll be fine here, and Matteo is on his way.”
Emiliano grabs his and Val’s coats, his brows knitted together. “Why’s Matteo coming?”
I shrug. “He said he wanted to talk about something, but I just think he wants to hang out with me and didn’t know how to say it.”
Val lets out a small laugh as she lifts her hair out of her coat. “He really needs to learn to be a better communicator.”
“It’s just the way he is. Even when we were kids, he had trouble expressing his feelings,” I tell her.
Ma nods, agreeing with me.
Eli rushes Valentina into the elevator, as if he can’t wait to get out of here and have his wife all to himself. Ma shakes her head in amusement before she settles on the L-shaped couch with Bee in her lap.
I drop my handbag on the chair opposite the couch and grab the TV remote, flicking through for a couple of seconds before dropping onto the chair. Nothing seems appealing right now.
“Are you okay, Mara?” Ma asks.
I look up at her, but her gaze is on Bianca.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
I don’t know if she heard me in the shower or what, but I’m really sick of everyone asking me the same damn questions. It not only pisses me the fuck off, but it makes me paranoid. Scared that they know what I do to myself: the cutting, the insomnia, the night terrors.
But they don’t know. And they don’t have a right to know. This is my problem, and I’m happy with the way I’ve chosen to deal with it. I don’t want them prying.
“That’s not what I asked, tesoro. But you look tired, and it isn’t just today.”
This time, she looks at me, and I see that look in her eyes. I hate that look—the one of pity. The look that says I know you’re struggling.
I stand abruptly, feeling as if my skin is crawling with the anticipation of being found out.
“I’m making myself a drink. Do you want one?” I lick my lips as if I’m parched.
Ma shakes her head and goes back to looking at Bianca.
The kitchen is clean, counters organized, and bottles of milk are in the fridge, ready for Bianca. I wonder how Val adjusted to being a mother after everything she went through, the trauma of being taken and tortured.
She never talks about it. She acts as if the whole thing never happened. But I see the way her smile slips every once in a while, how she gets a faraway look in her eyes whenever she looks at Bianca.
A deep voice from the living room breaks me out of my trance. Matteo must be here.
I quickly pour myself some lemonade and head back into the living room. When I step close enough, I see that Bianca has Matteo’s hair in her fist, giggling. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Matteo let anyone get away with something like that, especially since he’s particular about his personal space.
“Hey, Matteo. What’s up?”
He looks up at me, his gaze as cold as winter. “Ma, get this demon spawn away from me. I need to talk to Mara.”
Ma laughs and shakes her head before unfurling Bianca’s fist so Matteo can get up. He walks past, grabbing me by the elbow and moving me in to the kitchen.
“Ow, ow. Let go,” I tell him.
His grip is too tight, and I have a low pain tolerance.
“Never mind that. Lucio has been acting suspicious for the past two months, and I can’t figure out why.”
I frown. “What do you mean by suspicious?”
“He’s been sneaking off somewhere. He doesn’t pick up his phone. And the fact that he hasn’t been out or getting into trouble is enough to raise alarm bells.”
Matteo can be just as paranoid as I am because when he can’t make sense of something, he tends to view it with suspicion.
I shake my head. “He’s probably busy with something else. And don’t ask me what, because I don’t know. And as a matter of fact, I really don’t care to know.” I set my lemonade on the counter, leaning against the kitchen island. “Was this the only thing you wanted to talk about?”
He shakes his head. “No. I needed to warn you to be extra careful. There was a security breach the other day. We managed to catch it, but we don’t know the extent of the damage that was done.”
I pause, unsure how to take the news.
“Did something happen?” he asks me.
“I don’t…I don’t think so. No, nothing happened.”
“Mara, think.” Matteo’s voice sharpens. “Anything weird happen today?”
I open my mouth. Pause. My chest tightens. A flicker of a memory: the mall, the feeling of being watched. But when I try to recall the reason…it’s blank.
“No.” I shake my head. “Nothing happened. Apart from spending half a million.”
Matteo exhales sharply, unconvinced. “Half a million? Did Eli rip into you? Because he will.”
“No. I’m guessing he still doesn’t know,” I say as we head back into the living room.
Ma isn’t in there, and neither is Bianca. She’s probably putting her down to sleep. We settle on the couch, turning the TV on in the background.
“Have you met you’re fiancée yet?”
Matteo had to marry one of the Hoffman daughters because Lucio might have had a hand in the deaths of two other women from their family.
And the man who runs the Hoffman family doesn’t care about anything other than profits and power.
He decided they’re better off marrying into our family than “exposing us.”
Matteo leans back, his face a mask of cool indifference. “No. I’ll be meeting her in a week or so.”
“Are you excited?” I ask him, hoping to get some sort of reaction out of him.
But he only side-eyes me, as if to say don’t be stupid.
“I’ll take that as a no, then.”
“You’d do well doing that,” he mutters, then stands, flicking off an invisible piece of lint off his jacket. “I’m heading out.”
I pout. “I thought you said you were coming to see me.”
“This wasn’t a social call, Mara. I’ll see you Friday night.” And with that, he moves to the elevator, stepping inside before I can even blink.
I swear, all my brothers have sour moods, Emiliano included. The only reason he’s tolerable is because he’s with Valentina.
Ma returns with the baby on her hip. Bianca has the same sapphire blue eyes as her dad, and from the looks of it, she got both her dad’s and mom’s hair color.
“I thought you went to put her down for a nap.”
Ma shakes her head and sits Bianca on her blanket. “No. Our little Bee just had a little accident. Where did Matteo go?”
“Oh, he left. He said he has something to deal with.”
“Why was he here, anyway?”
I shrug. “He called me earlier today and said that he’d be coming over to Eli’s place to discuss something with me.”
Ma frowns as she makes her way to the kitchen. “What did he want to talk to you about?”
“Something about Lucio acting off,” I tell her as I bend down to Bianca’s level, grabbing one of her toys and shaking it in front of her.
“What do you mean by off?”
“I don’t know, but I’m guessing he’s not pulling the same old shit he always does, and that’s messing with Matteo’s system.”
Somewhere in the distance, a spoon scrapes against porcelain. Soft. Too soft. My fingers twitch at my sides.
I tell myself it’s nothing, but the nagging feeling won’t leave. It curls around my ribs, sinking into my bones. And when I close my eyes, I swear I can still feel someone watching me.