10. Carina
CHAPTER 10
Carina
S ilence can prove to be so loud that it’s deafening. Over the past few months I’ve become quite content with silence. I even happen to prefer it. The white noise has become a dear friend of mine. And in the silence, where I can hear my heart beat, it reminds me that despite my icy exterior, I am still alive.
As I hear my heart beat in the vicinity of my room, devoid of all noise, I don’t hear the slowed dull thud of my heart that I have come accustomed to. Nor does the silence provide me a sense of comfort that settles deep in my bones.
My heart beat has become a crescendo.
It is as loud as a steel drum and as fast as a thoroughbred horse. Each beat an act of treachery.
And the thoughts of the formidable yet enthralling man who has ensnared my mind and awakened my soul screams in the silence demanding to be heard.
And as much as I want to rue the day he was born, take the sharpest knife and plunge it deep in his sinful black heart, and send him back to Hell where he belongs, I can’t help the way my body responds to him.
I also can’t help how deeply intrigued I am by him.
He is right, my intrigue is something I cannot deny, even as much as I want to.
My mind can’t seem to comprehend how a man like him can exist. A man who has an abundance of power, who rules with an iron fist, is feared amongst all, to have an intense desire for someone else, and for a woman nonetheless, to have the same power as him.
And it’s not just any woman.
It’s me.
Why me?
And why does a part of me, the darkest part that I have always denied and been ashamed of, want to take his hand and drift further into the abyss?
Something is wrong with me.
There has to be.
Why does the man who caused my death make me feel more alive than I ever have been in my entire life?
These maddening, impossible questions that he evokes prove to be the most insufferable torture.
That’s what Constantine Donati is to me, the sweetest torture.
A sudden knock at my door pulls me from my thoughts and I try to blink away the life he has resurrected in my eyes, along with the fire he has ignited in my blood.
Clearing my throat and dropping my tone of voice to its dead and flat tone I say, “Come in.”
The gentle opening of the door already tells me who it is, revealing the man to me before the door fully opens.
Giuseppe enters my bedroom with a soft yet pained smile on his caring face. His hair tonight is slightly disheveled. His fingers must have been running through them with apprehension due to the circumstances of tonight.
I imagine Giuseppe is worried about my well-being even though he has no reason to be.
I can’t possibly explain to him how despite Constantine’s nature and reputation I inexplicably don’t fear him.
I feel safe with him.
See, something must be wrong with me.
He’s The Devil of the East Coast. The embodiment of darkness and sin. A feared man amongst monsters and yet I feel safe with him.
The wiring in my brain must be a chaotic tangled garbled mess that has short circuits and breakage.
Though, it is also not lost on me that I am simply being transported from one cage to another.
I’ve been in captivity for so long I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what to do with freedom if I ever had the chance to grasp my bloody fingers around it.
What is it like to live for yourself?
Where each decision is your own and the world is at your feet, bending at your will?
I had no thoughts of this since my rebirth.
Not until meeting him.
“La mia forte bellezza,” Giuseppe croons sadly. “What can I do?”
I offer him a smile, one that doesn’t reach my eyes yet strains my lips. I hope it comes off as genuine. Giuseppe, for all that he’s done for me, deserves a genuine emotion. Sometimes, like now, I wish I could provide him one.
“You can keep me in your thoughts. And if you would like your prayers,” I offer him the only thing I can and his face falls. “We both know what will happen if you try to interfere.” The grim fate of his death on the horizon.
He crosses the room with hurried steps, his body a ball of stress and nerves. Crouching down in front of me he clasps my hand in his own and gazes in my eyes with desperation. “You can run away. I can help you.”
“Giuseppe,” I say his name softly. “You’ll only be guaranteeing your death.”
“And it will be a death of honor.”
I tighten my fingers around his hand, hoping to reach to him through my touch. His eyes flick down to my fingers and there’s sorrow there. A deep sorrow that has seemed to be in his eyes for many years.
“I’m not worth your death.” And as I say the words I know it’s true. Even a dark soul can recognize one of light and beauty. And for Giuseppe to sacrifice his soul for mine. . .
It would be the most horrendous sin.
One you can’t be redeemed from.
One, even I could never do.
“I was too late with your mamma,” he whispers somberly, and the flare in my heart aches as he mentions her. “Viola was so close to escaping with you. If I had been-”
“There was nothing you could have done to help her, Giuseppe,” I tell him in hopes to ease him of his guilt. “She took her own life. Her mind was already set.”
He shakes his head sadly and when his eyes find mine again they hold a swirl of emotions I can’t comprehend. Not because I don’t understand them, but because I can’t understand why they’re there. It’s as if he has knowledge of a great tragedy I do not.
His mouth twists with agony as his fingers tighten on mine to the point where I fear they might break. “Carina.” He says my name gravelly, and with that I know what he is about to say will destroy me far worse than anything papa or Luca has already done. “Your mamma-”
Before he can continue a thunderous knock followed by the swift opening of my door interrupts him.
“Am I interrupting something?” Luca drawls as his eyes regard Giuseppe’s hand clasped in mine with disgust.
Giuseppe snatches his hand away as if it’s been burned, and raises himself up on the ball of his feet, backing away from me and standing primly as he should.
“No,” I answer for him and Giuseppe sends me a look of gratitude. “He was only saying goodbye.”
Luca scoffs, the sentiment of goodbyes long lost to him. A foreign language he can’t understand. He smooths down his tie with his lean fingers. Fingers that have been stained far more in life than they have ever been clean.
“It’s rude to keep a man waiting, Carina.” My name is spoken with disdain. I can’t recall a time where Luca ever said it fondly.
“Forgive me,” I say all too coolly, still cautious of my tone after all the months of his and papa’s conditioning. “I’m sure my captor can wait a moment or two as I gather my belongings.”
I get the reaction I want as Luca’s nostrils flare and his cheeks blossom red. Through terse lips he replies stiffly, “He isn’t your captor, Carina.”
I arch a cool brow at him. “Then what would you call it, Luca? I’m rather curious to know.”
He takes a menacing step forward and Giuseppe takes a direct step in front of me, blocking me from Luca’s path.
Luca comes to a halt, his eyes throwing daggers at Giuseppe. And yet with perspiration beading at the nape of his neck Giuseppe stands tall and firm.
The only man who has ever tried to be my white knight in a castle filled with wolves.
You see, this is why I can’t sacrifice his soul. A pure heart as his and a soul filled with light deserves to stay shining. For he will cast a light even in the darkest of corners and renew hope to a lost soul.
I rise from the bed, deviating my brother’s course on Giuseppe back to me.
“He will be your husband, Carina. This union will bring us power. And you will do your part. You will obey him. And you will warm his cock however he fucking pleases.” Giuseppe flinches from his profanity and vulgarity.
His words, as lashing as they are, are nothing compared to his real lashings.
“I’m not a whore, Luca. Nor am I a sex doll.”
Luca’s smile is twisted and sadistic. Much more different than Constantine’s dark and wicked.
And it begs the question, if Constantine is supposed to be The Devil of the East Coast, why do I fear the man before me more than the one I am forced to marry?
He sidesteps easily around Giuseppe, chucking his shoulder as he passes by, and leans down until his face is seething in front of mine.
His hands then whip out at the speed of light and encase my throat. His thumbs apply pressure to my carotid arteries, slowly cutting the blood supply to my brain. As his pressure increases I can feel the blood draining from my face and my head growing light.
Yet, still, I stand with my eyes unwavering and cold on his.
My insides might be trembling with fear only he can evoke but I do my damned best not to let it show.
“Mr. Fiore-” Giuseppe tries to intervene but Luca’s eyes slice over to his and whatever he sees in them has him paralyzed in fear.
Fear and pain, it’s what Luca does best.
“Leave, Giuseppe. Or so help me God I will fucking kill you,” he threatens malevolently.
My lungs begin to burn as they try to inhale air through my nostrils. Black spots dance before my eyes as everything becomes a blur.
Giuseppe swallows, taking a step closer to me. Luca retaliates by applying more pressure. And as my eyes bulge, water building at the rim, I manage to slightly nod my head, and only then does he retreat.
I hear the door softly shut and when it does Luca then releases the pressure on my throat, allowing me a moment of reprieve.
I make the rookie mistake of drawing in a large breath of air. Immediately my lungs burn, as if I swallowed smoke, and it causes me to choke.
I almost keel over, not being able to catch my breath, but somehow I remain standing.
The rock amongst the strong tides.
“Who do you think you are to deny orders, Carina?” Luca is seething. His cheeks are flushed and his fingers, the same fingers that were wrapped around my throat, are slightly twitching against his outer thigh.
“I would like to think I’m a human being and not a pet,” I spit at him, not caring of the consequences from my blatant act of disrespect.
There’s a flicker of surprise in the red mist of Luca’s eyes.
And I, too, would be surprised if it wasn’t for the little seed Constantine had planted inside my head.
That seed has already taken root, and since we departed it had time to be nourished.
A doormat.
As soon as the word left his lips it’s as if my veins were filled with gasoline and that word, that fucking word, threw the match to light the fury inside me.
I am no doormat and I never will be.
Yes, I’ve endured. I’ve endured more than what the average person can handle, but damn him, he’s right. It’s not about what I’ve endured.
It’s about knowing when you’ve had enough and standing against the monster you’ve feared all of your life.
And I’ve had enough of Luca.
“You will be whatever Constantine wants you to be, Carina,” Luca tells me in a cool tone that he’s copied from papa. As much as Luca tries to rein in his emotions he’ll never be in control of them. It’s the one thing among many that sets him and I apart.
With my hand wrapped around my sore and reddened throat my voice sounds hoarse and lower in tone. “I will be me, Luca. Me. ”
Luca’s eyes betray him once again. Flaring with anger that has his pupils dominating his irises. If eyes could kill I would be a dead woman.
He stalks towards me and as I try to stand tall my shoulders curve inwards as my body shrinks in on itself.
A defense mechanism I haven’t been able to sever since I’ve been born. The fear overriding the bravery and boldness I just held so courageously.
Very much like the predator he is, he senses my cowardice. He senses my fear and feeds from it.
With an ease that is both equally embarrassing and pathetic he removes my hand that was protecting my throat and replaces it with his own. He sneers, “You aren’t anything worth being, Carina.” Fire ignites in my heart and lights the path in my veins. “Who you are doesn’t matter. What matters is what you’ll be to secure the unity of The Fiore Famiglia and The Donati Famiglia. And if that means you become his whore, then you become his whore. Capisce?”
My throat burns with the rebuttal of words but as I open my mouth they die on my tongue.
His fingers increase their pressure around my throat and the air thins. “Do I need to repeat myself?”
“No,” I croak.
He smiles then, a dark sadistic smile that has visited me in my nightmares and haunts me in the daylight.
As he releases my throat I don’t make the same mistake twice. I keep my breaths even and steady until the burn in my lungs dissipates.
Adjusting his cufflinks and then his tie his eyes regard me with odium. “Your disobedience and disrespect earns you another lashing.”
I can’t help but let out a dark chortle. “And what would my precious future husband do to you if you did?”
Luca’s movements pause. He then cocks his head to the side, his eyes narrowing down at me. “Are you threatening me?”
“I’m merely stating a fact, mio fratello,” I spit the last two words with as much disgust as I can muster. “I heard his warning loud and clear. What will be your excuse when he sees the imprint of your hand around my throat?”
The complexion of his face pales and I revel in his silent yet ever so loud fear of the man who is soon to be my husband.
But one day Luca will fear more than just Constantine Donati.
He will fear me.
His hand runs through his slicked back overused gelled hair. He then points his finger at me like a gun. “You will say nothing upon the matter, Carina.”
“I don’t have to say anything. He’ll see it.”
“Then you’ll lie,” he says thinly.
I raise a cool brow at him. “Do you honestly believe he’ll fall for it? He’s not a dense man, Luca. He’s not like the soldiers you rule.”
“You’ll make him believe it,” he responds stiffly. “Don’t act like the Queen on the chess board, Carina. You’re a pawn. A pawn moved by Papa and me. Don’t forget who you are and don’t forget your place.”
But I’m not a pawn.
I hear his voice, the deep velvet dark voice of a man who I loathe, yet speaks the truth.
And I hate how it’s his voice in my head that gives me strength.
Yet I can’t deny how powerful it makes me feel.
The man I loathe is slowly becoming my dark guide.
“If you believe you aren’t a piece on someone’s chess board then you are more foolish than I thought you were.”
He laughs, a bleak sound that rattles my bones. His eyes glitter with maliciousness. “Carina,” he says mockingly, “one can’t be on the chess board if they are the master.”
I want to scoff. I want to let out a laugh that rumbles my stomach and jumbles my bones.
Luca may very well believe he’s the master but the true master of the chess board who controls all the pieces is papa.
My hand flexes against my sore throat but it does nothing to alleviate the pain.
A sudden hard knock at the door has both of us at pause. Luca cocks his head to the side curiously but gives me a stern narrow look of his eyes to remain silent.
Giving his tie one final tighten he waltz over to the door as if he didn’t just have his hands on me. As if nothing has transpired between us.
He opens the door and my blood immediately begins to hum as my heart starts to sing at the sight behind it.
Whiskey colored eyes meet mine and it sends an electrical impulse to my heart.
As I stare in the dark depths of his eyes I know the darkness that lies ahead of me and yet I’m not afraid.
His eyes soften. I have noted that his eyes only ever soften when they are gazing upon me. The fact causes the flutters to return in my stomach in a chaotic and maddening swarm.
I mentally curse myself for not being able to kill them.
Those damn unkillable flutters.
“Carina.” My name rolls off of his tongue in a velvet caress that touches me in ways no other soul can.
The whiskey color of his eyes have me intoxicated. Therefore I can’t possibly take accountability for the way I find myself wanting to be nearer.
There’s this magnetic pull he’s emitting and I can feel it latched around my entire being.
Yet that magnetic pull, the charge in the air that sparks around us becomes frayed and strained as Luca takes place in front of me.
Over Luca’s shoulder I see Constantine’s head tilt ever so slightly with a cocked brow.
“It isn’t polite to see a woman in her bedroom,” Luca admonishes him. If I didn’t know my brother at all I would think that he wanted to be a dead man.
Constantine, however, allows himself further in the room. He brushes past Luca with the hint of his shoulder and his gaze on me.
The fury rolling off of my brother is palpable but to Constantine it is no bother. He isn’t the least bit intimidated nor threatened. If anything his confidence grows with each step. His path to me is short given the long powerful strides of his legs.
Even the way he walks is captivating.
Damn him.
He comes to a stop just a hairbreadth from me. My body cries out for him to be nearer as my mind screams at me to create a great distance.
But I should know by now that the distance between Constantine and I does not matter.
Heaven and Hell could be between us and I would still be able to feel the magnetic charge that pulls me to him.
As if he can read my mind, as if he knows the inevitability of us, his eyes gleam as his lips pull upwards.
What a beautiful sight to behold.
It has always been said that the Devil has the handsomest face to tempt even the purest souls.
And I can’t hold accountable Eve for being tempted by the serpent to eat the forbidden fruit.
Because as I stare at Constantine Donati I find myself salivating for a taste.
Hating myself, disgusted for how my body is betraying me, I take a healthy step away from him. Naively, I hope the much needed distance will lessen my confusing desire and yearning.
How I couldn’t be more wrong.
He tilts his head to the side, the smile on his lips dying at my departure. They then do a sweep of my body but they don’t move past the angry crimson ribbon collared around my throat.
The air becomes thick and not with the usual tension filled with desire that lies heavily charged in the air between us.
No, this tension is thick like smoke. Engulfing you and filling your lungs until you feel as if you are suffocating.
Eyes that were once soft and intoxicating turn as dark as coal. He becomes impossibly still, unnervingly still. It reminds me of how a predator is before they pounce on their prey.
“Who did this to you?” His question demands to be answered. Despite his cool tone I hear the anger that resides underneath.
Always be frightened of the man who does not lose his composure.
I swallow. His eyes track the movement and narrow as they take notice of how the simple action proved to be difficult.
In hindsight I shouldn’t have made such a callous mistake.
Yet there is a part of me, the dark one, the sinister one, that hopes to see Constantine unleash his anger upon Luca.
I can feel Luca’s eyes burning into my skull. My tongue trips inside my mouth on what to say, or if to say anything at all.
“Carina.” Constantine’s voice is firm.
Do I lie and save Luca’s skin or do I give into my dark urges and have him killed by the Devil himself?
Is there any right choice?
My eyes glance over to Luca whose blue eyes are lethally on mine. I see the malicious intent in them. And it transports me back to earlier this week when those eyes unleashed his sadistic nature and gave me lashes across the entirety of my back.
Lost in the memory my back burns as if I had just experienced the first lashing.
And suddenly I’m that terrified girl who lost her resolve and her strength and gave into her weakness by shedding tears and crying out on the cold cement floor of the cellar.
“Speak now,” Constantine demands, the sound of his voice pulling me from the past, anchoring me to the present, “or this will be an unspoken truth.”
He takes a step to close the distance between us once again. And I would be lying if I said I wasn’t pleased. Secretly, I enjoy our game of cat and mouse a bit too much. It’s unlike anything I have ever expended before.
But how can one play with the Devil and win?
Boldly, his finger begins to trace the outline of my lips. My heart lurches to my throat as an intense heat simmers in my lower abdomen. As his finger descends, tracing my bottom lip, my mouth slightly parts. I have the sudden urge to flick my tongue and taste his skin.
Would he be bitter or sweet?
Something tells me it’s more of the latter. Sweet enough to cause a toothache and leave you begging for more.
His pupils dilate as he inhales a sharp breath.
“Will these lips tell me the truth?” He asks in a voice that has dropped an octave. He then raises a brow. “Or,” his finger trails away from my lips and I immediately ache from the loss. I suppress the whimper of protest wanting to be heard. His finger creates its own path along my jaw and down the column of my throat before his hand wraps around my throat.
He’s cautious of the marks but there is no denying the power behind his touch.
Unlike when Luca had his hand wrapped around my throat with the intent to punish, Constantine has his hand collared around mine with the intent to claim.
And my god, does my body desperately want to be claimed by him.
“Or will the truth remain here,” he gives a gentle squeeze around my throat, his fingers pressing against my pulse point, “unwilling to be set free?”
The blood rushing in my veins sings for him. My heart pounds against the cavity of my ribs with a need. Under his gaze, his lust filled and dominant gaze, my body responds to him in the most carnal way.
Between us the air is heady and thick with desire.
And I’m lost in it.
I’m lost in him.
An agitated clearing of a throat breaks the spell between us. “This isn’t appropriate,” Luca disapproves stiffly.
Constantine’s eyes harden but he remains where he stands.
No one orders a King.
His voice is dark and low, only loud enough for my ears to hear, “Shall I kill him now and lay him before your feet, or shall I wait for my Queen to rise and kill him herself?”