3. Chapter 2 Ginevra
“Ginevra, darling,” my mother calls from her rocking chair in the family room. She’s in the same position as she was this morning when I left for work. A blanket swallows her frame whole as she looks out the window. She’s losing weight again as her depression gets worse. I try to remember if I put her medication out this morning, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t recall. These lows we often cycle through run me ragged. I can’t stand them.
I look at the table beside her and note that the breakfast sandwich I made her sits uneaten with a few flies roaming around it. My shoulders try to slump, but I push them back. There’s only so much I can control, and my mother is not one of those things.
“Yeah, Mom?”
“Come here where I can see you.”
I go to the window where I can see her face. She never recovered after we lost my father and shadows have haunted her sad blue eyes ever since. He was the love of her life and she stopped living the same day he did. I grew up instantly when he died, because I became the one cooking the meals, doing laundry, and cleaning the house. My mother couldn’t get out of bed to take care of us kids.
When girls my age were going out, I was checking on my mother. I was the one staying up late, worried because Jude wasn’t home yet. When he did return, I was bandaging him up from a fight, or trying to drag his passed-out body to the bathroom.
“You need to buy a new dress for Soren’s birthday party, and not one of those so-called vintage pieces you strut around in. Something new.” She stresses the word new and I force a smile, my molars grinding.
“No need, because I won’t be going,” I reply nonchalantly. My muscles strain with the force I require to keep a smile on.
My mother twists to stand, her arms shaking as she holds on to the chair’s arm before she straightens herself. When did she get so frail and old? She looks at least twenty years older than her actual age. I wish she would come back to us one day and see we’re here for her.
“Yes, you will be.” She points her finger at me and my smile slips straight off my face. “They’re the reason we have a roof over our heads. If we stop playing nice, all this disappears.”
I’m so tired of worrying about money, and having what they give us used against me all the time. It’s why I need to make a good impression at this new job. The new source of income means I can finally become dependent upon myself. I’m finally the one who has the power and gets to do what I want.
Every time the Morettis have a party, I’m forced to attend and pretend to be part of one big, happy family. “That should be us.” She’s referring to their huge extravagant parties they have that show off all their money. I see the envy in my mother’s and brother’s eyes every time we are near them. It’s the same story, every time. I’m over it. It’s time to write our own future.
“But it’s not, and I’m okay with it. I like my life.”
My mother gasps like I just took the Lord’s name in vain in front of her and then smacked the priest. The image has my lips tilting up and I quickly remove it when my mother notices.
I’ve never understood why they pay our mortgage. My father died when I was six years old, in a boating accident with Alesso, the Morettis’ father. There are rumors they pay for our home as hush money for killing him. I’ve also heard it’s guilt money for stealing his patent. I’ve never known which version to believe. All I know for certain is that Alesso has my father’s patent and my father is dead.
They have made billions off the patent and we’re supposed to sit back and be obedient servants because they insist on “taking care” of us. What’s worse, is his family insists on Jude and me attending every huge celebration they have, rubbing everything that should have been ours but isn’t in our face.
I want nothing from them, yet I’m still forced to live in their presence, no matter how much I hate it. We see each other at every celebration throughout the year. They have four kids, whose birthdays we’re required to make an appearance for, and there are a lot of holidays throughout the year. I consider myself lucky if I only cross paths with them six times a year.
“They arranged a marriage for Eva. The least they could do is the same for you. I’m not asking for much. I’m not telling them to marry you.” I fight my eye roll because Soren’s sister despises her arranged marriage. “We just need to make sure you’ll be taken care of properly.” She means financially, which is ironic since she won’t tell anyone she’s having health issues. The Morettis would cover her medical bills without question. I don’t push because I’d rather work more and pay for them myself.
“I make my own money, Mother. Now, I’m only home for a second before I’m off again.” My nervousness over this meeting tries to creep in but I push it away, trying to hold on to my excitement.
She studies me for a moment. “Where are you going?”
“I have a business meeting.”
Sitting back down, she shakes her head. “You shouldn’t have to work in the first place. Your father is turning over in his grave as he watches us.”
I often wonder how our lives would be different if my father was still alive. When people speak about him, guilt hugs my chest tight over not remembering him. I pretend to know the memories and tell stories I’ve heard before to appease my mother, but the sad fact is, there’s not one thing that stands out that I can remember.
I bend down, placing a kiss on my mother’s forehead. “I love you,” I say, ignoring her other comment.
She waves me off and goes back to staring out the window, looking at nothing with only her memories to keep her company. I will never be like her. No matter what happens in life, I’m determined to make it mine and be happy. I’m all about living in the present. The past is for ghosts that try to pull you down with them.
I take one last look at my mother before grabbing my purse. The sound of a horn catches my attention and I watch as Soren Moretti swerves onto our street. My heart suddenly speeds up as he approaches our house.
Soren and my brother, Jude, are best friends and work together. It’s not very often you see them apart. He must be coming to pick him up.
I walk out of our small home in time to see Soren’s Porsche rip into our driveway, blocking my rusted Chevy in the process. He’s the devil incarnate. He’s the worst influence on my brother, and because of him and his family, our family has suffered.
Soren steps out of his car like I don’t exist. “Radiated dolphin,” I insult him under my breath.
He stops, looking at my car, before lifting a brow. His dark, almost-black eyes flick to me, and my stomach knots at the intensity of his gaze. It has me sucking in a breath and I hold it in my lungs. His hard, sculpted, handsome face is wasted under the constant scowl he wears. Soren has the ability to make even the toughest man feel small and insignificant, but I keep my shoulders back, refusing to cower.
The silence between us is thick. My chest burns with the air being held tight in my lungs. His eyes narrow as he takes in my outfit and it feels like they”re burning my skin as they trail from my eyes to my toes and up again.
“Like the new car? I left it there for you to admire.” And just like that, I’m dismissed, his eyes no longer interested in me. He whistles as he heads toward our front door.
My breath explodes over my lips as my mouth gapes open and I hold my hands out in a “what the Hell” motion.
“Soren!” I call toward his retreating back.
I double check the time on my fitness watch. If I don’t leave right this instant, I’m going to be late. My hands make a choking-like grasp into the air. Not again. He blocked Eva and me in last month to prevent us from going out. I don’t understand how Jude can stand working with the guy.
He gives no indication he hears me and I would love nothing more than to kill him myself. I’m going to be late meeting my boss. Damn it. This is my first time having a drink with everyone, and it’s important to make a good impression.
I sling my purse over my shoulder, marching toward my car. The door hinge squeaks as I open it, and my entire car rattles when I slam the door closed. I sit there stewing over my annoyance, waiting for him to return. Twisting my wrist, I check the time again and mentally do the math for how long the drive will be. I don’t have time to wait. My fingers tap against my steering wheel as if it were ivory keys on a piano. I honk my horn and Soren still doesn’t come back. This job is everything to me. I’m going to be late. I’m going to be late. Fuck it! I can’t wait for the boys. I’m going to be late.
It takes three times turning the engine over before it fires, and I reverse, hitting his overrated car. My body flies into the backrest of my seat, and still, his car doesn’t budge. I shift into drive, moving forward the limited amount of space I have before reversing again. The satisfying sound of his headlight crunching at the impact has me smiling. Forward and back, I nudge myself closer to the side until I have enough space to sneak by. Metal on metal sings with that annoying sound as I pass his new car with mine.
Reversing onto the road, I step out of my car. You can’t even tell I hit anything. In fact, I have less rust on my car now than I did before.
I slip my phone out, texting my boss about the brutal traffic I’m stuck in. He doesn’t need to know the real reason I’m late. I’m a career lady now.
The excitement of having a career still runs hot through my veins. I almost have to pinch myself to make sure this is a reality. After years of saving, I was able to take the courses to become a paralegal. And now, I get to work with one of the best. In my opinion. Not Soren’s. I saw the way his lip curled and how he looked down his snobby nose at me, all while allowing an unimpressed laugh to cling between us when my brother forced me to tell them about my new job. What I omitted was that this was my fifth job, and I had finally landed the one I want.
This is the job that will pay for our house and take us out from under the Morettis’ thumbs, allowing us to stand on our own two feet.
“What the fuck, Gin!”
That’s my cue. I give Soren a pretty smile, slipping my phone into my purse while getting back behind the wheel. I spin my tires, just because it feels good, before heading toward the address on my map app on my phone.
I don’t even bother to watch Soren’s expression through my rearview mirror. Sooner or later, he’ll learn better than to mess with me. The man must have at least one brain cell floating around in that head of his.