Chapter 16
Rafaela
Paris.
The city was vibrant and alive, the location everything I’d hoped it would be. I’d enjoyed almost every minute of living and going to school, thrilled I’d also found an internship that actually paid me money for doing what I loved.
Design.
Being able to design the beautiful clothes I’d never been able to find was exciting. Apparently, I had talent, or at least that’s what my professors continued to tell me.
Due to working a couple of jobs, my design work had been done at night. Right now, I was bleary eyed, more exhausted than I could remember, but it would all be worth it.
Next semester, at least I could concentrate on design work and nothing else. Then when I graduated, my entire life would change.
Getting to this point hadn’t been easy. I’d lost so much time, but here I was, finally living the life that I’d always wanted.
The electric vibe in the auditorium was contagious, everyone backstage alive with fire in their eyes and the thought of celebrity in their bellies. Who didn’t want to be the next Vera Wang or Coco Chanel?
Not this girl.
I wanted to be the next Rafaela.
That meant going through hoops, tonight being one of them. But I was up to the challenge.
Competitions.
I loathed them.
Yet using the spring fashion show as a final exam had made the event highly coveted, not only by students and professors, but also by design professionals. Hence, turning the event into a competition.
You bet I had a winning spirit, but I wasn’t a fool. A junior had never won since the competition had been formalized. However, the experience would be fantastic for my resume. If I could manage to get an honorable mention, even better.
Laughing when I pricked my finger with the needle, I hissed just as a drop of blood appeared.
Pulling it to my mouth and sucking, I noticed the young woman selected to be my model for the evening’s festivities was swaying back and forth.
The evening topped off a regular spring fashion event in Paris and I had no doubt she, like just about everyone else in the city and in the university, had gone out to party.
Hard.
What had I been doing? Creating another five designs until three in the morning.
I’d also been fighting heavy anxiety about the upcoming event, enough so Golden Angel had spent the entire night at my feet or curled up next to me when I’d finally gotten a couple hours’ sleep.
Even worse, I’d had visions of him.
He without a name because even thinking his name brought additional despair.
As soon as I shifted, dropping to my knees so I could finish hemming the dress, tightness in my back and the way my dress sliced across my skin was a reminder that I needed to completely forget those couple of weeks in my life.
I don’t know why I’d been thinking about him more and more.
He was dead.
Murdered while trying to escape after killing several men.
Including Marco.
My father had gleefully told me only two days after my lavish party, savoring every moment of sharing the gruesome details before falling into a bitter rage.
I’d never seen him so angry, exacting revenge on everyone he’d thought had played a part in the man’s escape.
He’d turned over the estate, punishing soldiers and threatening others with life and limb.
Including me.
Why was I thinking about the punishment I’d received three years later? Maybe I was using the horrible memories, the terrible first year and the extreme heartache as a reminder that I was a survivor. Stronger than I’d ever been in my life.
This was my chance, my dream and I was so close. One more year and I’d graduate. One more year and I could finally live out my dream. If I played my cards right, the United States would become my home. A little home filled with love and laughter. I would make certain of that.
I couldn’t wait.
The thought of returning home for a short visit made me cringe, but my mother was ill, begging to see me.
If I knew my father, he was allowing one wish.
That’s how much he hated me, which was fine by me.
There was nothing the bastard could do that would make me feel any worse.
I hated him too, now wishing I’d begged Kazimir to kill him.
I was leaving in three days for Sicily and my stomach was already in knots. Up until now, I’d been unwanted, my father treating me as if I didn’t exist.
After he’d banished me with five hundred euros in my pocket and a single suitcase of clothes, I’d been forced to find both shelter and a job. Thankfully, I’d found both.
Including finding a way back to the very school I’d been forced to drop out of. Today, I felt vindicated for all my suffering and hard work.
Given I was sullied goods, my worth had dropped significantly. At least that had taken me off the radar. Also to my benefit.
If my father thought I cared, he was dead wrong. I was exactly where I wanted to be and it didn’t seem anyone cared whatsoever who my father had once been. From what my mother had told me, the last few years had taken a toll and he’d aged significantly, arthritis crippling his fingers.
Sadly, his mind was sharp, his level of brutality intact.
I was still on the fence about going home, even for a short visit. Why bother? Why had my mother suddenly acted as if she cared about me?
“Hurry. The clock is ticking!” The voice was loud enough to cut through the crackles of laughter and exclamations of worry.
From what I’d heard, the show had been sold out.
There were members of the Parisian press waiting in the audience as well as other international agencies eager to report on the up-and-coming talent coming from Paris.
My heart was skipping beats as I hurried along, avoiding using the finger still bearing a single drop of blood.
Blood. Crimson in color, once my favorite hue. Until the substance had marred his back, festering in the scars that would remain long after his wounds had healed. The unmistakable, repulsive stench would forever cling to my nostrils.
The same substance had splattered my face after being forced to watch the horrific execution of a worker who’d dared provide information to a prisoner of war.
That’s what my father had called it. He’d stated we were at war.
Jesus.
“Miss Marichetti. Are you alright?” Fleur had been assisting me for days, the older woman having been through countless shows and having dealt with hundreds of prima donnas over the years.
“I’m fine, just anxious.”
“Your design is beautiful, but you should be wearing it.”
A laugh bubbled to the surface. “I don’t think so. I’d fall on my face.”
She touched my arm. “Nonsense. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“I will.” I took a deep breath after she moved away, finally standing. “Turn around,” I told the girl. “Valerie. Right?”
Valerie was several shades of green but managed to nod. She was one of the crop of teenagers arriving from America, all hopeful of jumpstarting their modeling career. I could tell many had been lured into nights of drugs, alcohol, and debauchery.
Sighing, I made a few additional adjustments, taking just a few seconds to glance at those around me. In my mind, my design sucked.
Just then, my fur baby bumped her head against my leg, a needed reminder she was right there with me. My only source of comfort and the only creature I could count on. While taking a long, deep breath, I stroked the fur on the back of her neck. Within seconds, I was much calmer.
My sweet girl always knew what I needed.
Every student in the class had been allowed to select one piece of fall clothing for the spring fashion show highlighting the upcoming fall line. I was so excited I felt as if I was floating on cloud nine.
I’d even learned to become a seamstress, able to make any last-minute changes needed before the model walked down the runway. When I took a step back, I could instantly tell by the horrible look on Valerie’s face that her after-party condition was much worse than I’d anticipated. “What is it?”
“I… I don’t feel well.” When Valerie took off racing for the bathroom, I threw my head back and groaned.
“Is everyone ready?” the show coordinator asked, clapping her hands as she walked into the huge all-purpose room where every student was working with their model on last-minute alterations.
Oh, my God. I stared after Valerie until she disappeared, uncertain what to do.
“What’s wrong?” Fleur said when she appeared out of the corner of my eye.
“Valerie is currently ridding her body of toxins.”
It took the older woman a few seconds to realize what I was saying. “Merde. Go after her. The show is about to begin. At least you’re close to the last to take the stage.”
Small favors.
“Golden. Stay here. Mommy will be right back.”
Although I needed my furry baby, terrified I would be the one on the floor knocked out cold.
I rushed through the crowd, fighting my way through several groups until I was able to reach the bathroom. As soon as I walked in, the stench hit me like a ton of bricks. After covering my mouth and nose, I headed to the slightly open stall door.
From my limited viewpoint, I could tell a huge hunk of her long blonde hair was floating in the toilet alongside whatever substance was filling the bowl. There was nothing worse in my mind than the sound of someone upchucking the contents of their stomach.
Except for one thing.
A man begging for his life, wailing that he had a family.
I cinched my eyes shut, blocking out the horrible memory.
Yeah, Daddy. Another lesson learned. You are a monster.
When there was a momentary lapse in sound, I took a chance. “Valerie. Are you okay?”
Moaning, three or four seconds later, she lifted her head, twisting enough so I could see her face.
And the splatters of vomit covering the front of my dress.
Oh. My. God.
The dress and the moment were ruined.