12. Carina
CHAPTER 12
Carina
O nce upon a time I had believed I knew the world, naively so. And with it, I had believed I had known the people who inhabit it.
Before my rebirth everything had been crystal clear. The world, my world, as I had seen it, was done so in black and white. A clear division on good and evil, right and wrong.
And I had still believed the world was so clearly divided after my re-birth. I then became the part of the world my mamma had warned me about. I became evil. I had done wrong.
All the goodness I had, all the rights I had done, died that fateful night.
There was no going back. No resurrection to bring back the girl who believed the world would be good. Humanity had been lost and in turn so had mine.
I died.
I died and became a dark empty void.
And yet here I stand with Constantine’s arm wrapped around my waist, his hand resting on the flare of my hip, igniting sparks that burn my skin, and the world I thought I had known, the world I believe to see, has never existed at all.
Constantine Donati has forced me to see the world in an incredibly harsh and confusing new color. A color that is equally confounding and morality questioning as it evokes the feelings of righteousness and startling clarity.
He’s a man who criminals whisper of in fear, afraid if his name is spoken too loudly he’ll take their souls. A man who is infamously known as The Devil of the East Coast. A King to the underworld. Powerful. Corrupt. Morally skewed and not politically correct. He’s a man known for his ruthlessness as much as he’s known for his violence.
The man who has me in his arms, holding me with a possessive yet protective grip is considered by all means an evil man.
And yet this evil man at his every turn has defended me and stood gallantly in my honor.
It poses too many questions.
For one, why?
And two, if a man is considered truly evil, and eagerly participates in evil acts, how is he also capable of pure goodness?
And three, why is he doing these good names in my name?
“Carina,” my brother addresses me stiffly after the clear of his throat. Only another tell of when he’s truly and well miffed. “A word.”
Constantine’s fingers bury themselves deeper in the skin of my hip. And I find myself biting on my tongue as a rush of pleasure tingles its way up and down my spine from his touch.
How I remain my unaffected composure I have not a clue.
“You’ve had plenty of words, Luca. For now on if you wish to speak to my fiancé you will do so with me or one of my trusted men present. Capisce?” Constantine’s words are cutting and his smirk even more so. This is the man who instills fear. This is the man who leads his famiglia.
And this man, this downright sinister and evil man, has my flesh burning with a need to be explored.
I immediately expel the thought before it can become real, but it’s as if my body has a mind of its own. And its mind is brainwashed by him.
Constantine then leads us out of my room, skirting around Luca as if he’s nothing but a discarded piece of clothing on the floor. I hear Luca scoff in irritation but it pays no mind to Constantine’s ears.
He keeps me by his side, his arm protectively around my waist as we walk down the grand staircase. The sound of my heels against the freshly polished wood floors is the only sound one can hear. Never mind the beating drum of my heart that has only accelerated in tempo.
As we reach the bottom of the steps I am met with a familiar face. He wears a playfully mischievous smile and his eyes are light hearted.
He bows, and at first I think it’s a sign of respect towards his Don. I’m proven wrong when he then takes my hand in his and presses it briefly to his forehead before placing an even briefer kiss to my hand.
“Pietro Morelli, at your command, my fair lady,” he introduces himself cheekily.
I blink at him with my eyes blank and wide. As he lets go of my hand Constantine then takes it, brushes it with his thumb, and then places a kiss on the exact spot. The feel of his lips lights up every cell in my body and demands for more.
My lips part as my eyes flutter. It’s the smallest reaction but a reaction all the same.
And I equally hate myself for it as I’m chasing to have that feeling again. The feeling of being alive.
The feeling of being alive with him.
“Next time you address yourself,” Constantine says to Pietro in a tone that is chilling, “your lips will not be near her skin. Capisce?”
Pietro holds both of his hands up in a sign of surrender but his eyes are not waving the white flag, they’re waving in red. “I only meant to show my respects. She is, after all, our future Queen, is she not?” His tone is playful and I’m finding the dynamic of the two of them hard to comprehend.
Can a Don and a soldier have a relationship with banter and tricks and yet still have respect and trust?
It appears so.
And I’m only left with more questions.
I’m always left with more questions when it comes to the man who will soon be my husband.
Why must I find him so damn intriguing?
“Pietro.”
“I understand, Constantine,” Pietro responds resolutely. He then flashes me a smile showing his brilliant white teeth that aren’t perfect yet somehow he makes that more appealing. “It really is a pleasure to meet you, Carina. I do hope one day we become better acquainted.”
For some strange reason I don’t feel like lying to him, so I only offer the nod of my head. His smile widens.
Pietro is either easily pleased or eagerly optimistic. Either which I can’t fathom why he has those qualities. We live in a world where death follows us everyday and violence is our first response.
How can one express joy while living in darkness?
It’s almost unnerving to see a man as jovial and radiant as he is.
“I have words with Savio before we leave. Assist Carina to the car and wait for me,” he instructs him and he nods his head in reply.
I, however, will not comply with his demands. “No.”
There’s a hint of amusement in Constantine’s eyes but there is also surprise. “No?”
Standing firm and projecting my voice I say unwaveringly, “You keep telling me, insistently, that I am a Queen and not a pawn. If I am not a pawn, as you claim me not to be, then I will not be treated as such. Even to you.”
Pride swallows his eyes whole. And if I had thought for one flickering moment that his eyes were intoxicating before they are nothing compared to how they look at me in this very moment.
I can see myself becoming drunk off of that look alone.
Wanting to see if I can make them shine more with pride I carry on. “You have words with my father, then in turn so do I.”
“Carina,” he says my name on a purr. It sends shivers down my spine and tingles in places that I don’t want to ever admit, least of all to him. And when the back of his knuckles brush along my cheekbone I can feel myself melting. “You’re even more beautiful when you know your worth.”
The unkillable flutters return in my stomach as my cheeks heat.
Taking my hand he loops it through his arm. “Time for us to have words with your papa.”
I nod my head, afraid if I speak my voice might have a girlish squeak. He nods his head to Pietro and the silent command is heard. Pietro turns on his heel with the luxurious key twirling around his finger, humming to himself as he goes.
The walk down the long corridor to my papa’s office should feel familiar, but with Constantine it feels entirely new.
For once I’m walking down the corridor not light on my feet. My gait is strong and not a sliver of fear races down my spine.
This is what power must feel like. Electricity humming through your veins. The rush to the head of the knowledge that you’re untouchable.
Power this potent can be lethal.
“You defied me in front of one of my men,” Constantine says to me with a smirk upon his face.
“You don’t seem opposed to it.” I make the observation.
He shakes his head. “All I want is for you to recognize your worth. Defying me, giving me your smart mouth, sassing me at every turn,” he winks at me and I feel my skin flush, “it’s only proving what I’ve known all along.”
I raise a brow. “And what is that?”
“That despite what you may believe you aren’t dead, Carina. You’re so very much alive.”
I don’t comment. Rather, I turn my eyes ahead, afraid he’ll see the truth on my own. If I’m not careful Constantine will have me unraveled.
As if he can sense my internal dilemma he says with a smirk that he was born with, “You overthink, Carina. There’s a whole world that awaits you.”
“A dark one,” I correct him with twisted lips.
He stops and in turn so do I. It’s then I fully realize the sheer size of him. A god of a man who stands before me, who can easily crush me with such little effort. And yet to my own surprise I don’t cower in fear, I rise. My chin held high, my shoulders squared and defiance ignited like flames in my eyes.
His tongue pokes out to lick his bottom lip. Tranced by the devil himself I watch in fascination. A dark grin forms on his sensual lips, and it’s hypnotizing.
Raising his hand, my instinct to flinch doesn’t even occur. His knuckle grazes the apple of my cheek. A whisper of a touch with a promise of so much more. “Would it be so terrible, Carina?”
I swallow thickly. The air is charged between the two of us. One might catch a spark.
I part my lips to respond but before I even get the chance his finger is placed over my lips to silence me. My body burns from his touch in a way that craves. The traitorous organ inside my chest beats loudly, wanting to break free and jump right into his palm. As if that’s where it truly belongs
Whisky color eyes burn into mine. “Don’t lie.”
I respond coolly, trying to impose as unaffected. “It would be worse than death itself.” As I say the words they feel like acid on my tongue. There’s a churning in my stomach that makes me feel awful. It feels too close to regret. When has it been the last time I felt such an emotion?
There’s a flash of disappointment in his eyes followed by a flash of pain. It intensifies the awful twisting in my stomach. His jaw ticks once before he regains composure himself, offering me a curt nod of his head. It feels formal, distant.
Why does it bother me?
Leaving me bereft, without warning he opens the French doors to my papa’s office.
I would earn five lashes if I ever did such a blatant act of disrespect. My back burns just thinking about it.
However disappointed Constantine may be in me, he still outstretches his hand for me to take.
An enigma he is.
A maddening infuriating enthralling fascinating enigma.
One I can’t help but be drawn to.
Icarus to the sun is nothing compared to the way I am with Constantine.
I lay my hand in his and he wraps his fingers around my hand gently. I’ve never known a touch so gentle. Even more so with a man who is clearly upset.
Papa would've struck my face. Luca would've pushed me to the ground.
And yet The Devil of the East Coast caresses my skin as if I’m sacred. As if I am to be worshipped and not punished.
For the life of me I can not figure out the conundrum that is him.
He’s unlike any Made Man I’ve ever known.
He gathers me to his side protectively, and the churning feeling I had in my stomach slowly dissipates.
Despite everything I say and what I try so desperately to convince myself, the feeling I felt after the distance I created between the two of us. . . I don’t wish to experience that again. Which can only lead to sin and damnation for my soul.
I’m starting to wonder if I should care anymore.
Especially when the king of darkness himself has bestowed nothing but light and kindness to me.
I’m pulled from my thoughts by the thunderous sound of my papa’s voice. One I’ve been conditioned to fear. Instinct has me wanting to curl my shoulders inwards and hang my head low. “What gives you the right to come in my office uninvited?”
The hand on my hip soothes me with its gentle touch. I peer up at Constantine through my lashes to find him staring down my papa with dark humor. “What gives you the right to think I can’t?”
My papa becomes flustered. An act I have never seen of him. His face as red as the fresh tomatoes in our garden. Unable to meet eyes with Constantine, his accusatory and cutting eyes are given to me instead.
Constantine tsks, as if he’s scolding a young child. “Don Savio Fiore cowering. You won’t look at my fiancé in such a way again.”
An order. Not a request.
I can see the fumes coming from papa’s head. I expect his wrath and I fear his punishment.
“She’s my daughter,” papa insists through clenched teeth.
“I don’t give a fuck if she was the daughter of the King of England. She’s mine. It will be my last name she’ll carry. You have no hold over her, do you understand? Carina is mine. Capisce?”
If my papa was fuming before he’s absolutely seething now. No one tells him what is his and what isn’t his. He’s a Don. He’s to be treated with respect. He holds all of the power.
And here Constantine is, not only disrespecting him, but also doing so in my name. A woman’s name.
It’s unheard of.
Papa’s eyes return to mine with more malice and fire. If it weren’t for Constantine besides me I know what would lie ahead of me. Fifteen lashes from brother dearest. My body stiffens.
“I’m assuming you barged into my office because you wanted a word,” my papa says stiffly. There’s so much anger inside him. I feel close to elation, and most relieved, that I will no longer be here to face his wrath.
How is it the devil is saving me?
“Si,” Constantine agrees coolly. “If you wish to see your daughter, if you wish to speak to her, the arrangements will have to be done through me.” Papa’s left eye twitches with fury. “You will never be alone with her under any circumstances.”
Papa’s lips thin as the vein on his forehead pulsates. “She’s my daughter. You have no right.”
Constantine places me in front of him, placing both of his hands firmly, yet protectively, on my hips. My back is flush to his front. And despite the layers of clothing between us and the wounds on my back, I feel the heat of him burning into my skin. His warmth seeps deep inside my bones unthawing the cold and soothing all the rigidness.
I feel his breath against my neck. I’m unable to control my body’s reaction. A shiver that races down my spine along with goosebumps spread across my flesh.
“I have every right. You heard me, Savio,” he says, his name laced with venom. I don’t think I can recall a time where anyone has addressed my papa by his first name. “Now,” Constantine buries his fingers in my hips as he presses me flush against his front. There’s no slither of space between us, not even for a pass of air.
I feel the hard plane of his muscles against me. And I feel the hard length of him against my ass. The blood rushing in my veins is like molten lava. Those damn unkillable flutters return with a vengeance. My body is pleading with me to press up against him. To feel what he has to offer. To divulge in the deadly sin, lust.
“I want you to thank your daughter for the great service she has done for your Famiglia,” he finishes and I can feel the smirk.
Papa’s eyes spark with violence and his eerily calm voice promises murder. “She is doing her duty.”
Truth be told I can not remember a time where papa’s eyes held love or at least tenderness towards me. Perhaps before, when I viewed the world in the lens he controlled, before my re-birth, I was too blind to see my papa’s true feelings.
But this, this is the man he has always been. Mamma was fooled, so naively so in Florence. This is papa’s true face. The City of Death has nothing to do with it.
Sometimes, even though it pains me, I’m glad she’s dead. She can’t see more of a monster her love has become. I just wish she wouldn’t have felt as helpless and alone.
My black heart bleeds for her.
The woman who fell in love with the wrong man.
I vow to never make the same mistake.
“Thank her, Savio,” there’s an edge in Constantine’s voice, one promising of a threat, “or I may go back on my word.”
Back on his word?
My body stiffens. His hand flexes against my hip before his thumb runs a soothing circular motion. I loathe how my body immediately starts to relax in his hold. My body may be brainwashed by him but my mind is surely not. Then ever so lowly I hear him say just for me, “Trust me.”
Trust.
If I could scoff I would.
As if trust can be given so easily.
Doesn’t he know the world we live in?
Trust is never given freely.
Trust is earned with blood. Trust is earned by committing sins. Trust is a crime disguised as good nature.
Trust is something women in this world don’t have the luxury of having.
All we are our marionettes.
Even myself, papa my very own puppeteer.
And Constantine promises me with pretty words of being his Queen but words are lies until proven to be true by action.
I’m only someone else’s marionette, except my strings are to be controlled and manipulated by a different master.
From one gilded cage to another.
Will I ever experience life with no strings?
“We made a deal, Donati,” papa reminds him harshly.
I feel Constantine shrug his shoulder. “A deal with no contract and no signature. Tell me, Savio, do you handle all your business with this amount of incompetence? Are you really this dense?”
He forces my papa’s word down his throat and forces him to eat it.
If he were anyone else there would already be a bullet placed between his eyes.
Papa breathes through his nose. “I thought you were a man of your word. A man of honor like your papa.”
Papa wouldn’t be able to notice it, and I wouldn’t have either if I wasn’t plastered against him. But Constantine stiffens against me, if only for less than a second.
“How do you think I’ve earned my name? Because I’m a man of my word?”
Papa shakes his head in frustration and his eyes show disgust. “You truly are the devil.”
“Si, I am,” he says proudly. “Now agree to my demands, Savio, or this arrangement is over before it even begins.”
I see the defeat in papa’s eyes. As much power he has as a Don he will never be as powerful as Constantine. And to wound his own pride he needs the allegiance with The Donati Famiglia . Otherwise everything he’s built will come crashing down around him.
“I agree,” papa mutters.
“Louder, Savio. I’m afraid I can't hear you.” There’s a cruel pleasure in his voice.
Papa pinches his nose between his fingers before sitting up straight in his chair. “I agree,” he repeats louder this time.
“You forgot something.”
“What?” Papa asks in exasperation.
“To thank my fiancé. Thank her, Savio. Thank her for saving your Famiglia .”
I’ve never wondered before if papa had ever truly hated me, but at this moment, I feel that he does.
Being forced to thank his daughter, a woman, for saving his empire.
He’s punishing me in his mind, I just know it.
“Thank you, Carina.” Except there isn’t an ounce of gratitude in his words at all. I expect it, of course. How could I not? This is a man, after all, who not only abuses me, but gives his son permission to do so as well.
As Constantine positions me back to his side to then lead us out of my papa’s office, for what may be the last time, a heavy feeling resides inside my chest.
With each step we take down the long corridor it only intensifies.
The heavy feeling spreads like a virus. Infecting all that I am until slowly I recognize what it is I’m feeling.
Pietro greets me with a charming grin as he opens my door. I’m so lost in what I’m feeling that I don’t even acknowledge him. I can’t. I ignore everything and everyone around me.
Constantine is making me feel, yet again, except this time the feeling he evokes makes me loathe him the most.
The air around us is tense. And even sitting the furthest from him does nothing to lessen the tension.
I sit in silence, eyes out the window but not really seeing anything.
Because what I’m feeling makes me want to stop breathing.
Constantine told me, promised me, that I would be his Queen. And yet in those last moments in papa’s office I wasn’t treated as one. I was merely another piece on a chessboard. His pawn for papa to agree to his demands.
He used me.
He promises me the Queen on the chess board and uses me as the pawn.
And that heavy feeling that resides in my chest, the tightening of my lungs, and the sickly churning in my stomach?
It hurts.
I’m hurt.
Constantine Donati hurt me.
And the worst part of it all?
Part of me believed him to be different.
But he’s a Made Man.
They’re all the same.
Constantine shouldn’t have any affect on me yet he does. And I loathe him for it. I loathe him because this shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
But it does.
It does and I don’t know what that means for me.