Chapter 2 #3
“I’ll follow,” I say, my tone dead and without inflection. I’m saving my effort for when it matters. “Go ahead.”
“You’re such a spoiled fucking princess,” he sneers. “I heard you were taught a lesson, yet here you stand, looking down your nose at me.”
“Dumb as a box of rocks,” I reply, not meaning myself. “Move, or I’ll tell Papa you’re the reason I’m late. Since I can’t remember your name, I doubt you’re very important.”
“You’re such a bitch, Rosalia. I’m your cousin.”
Hmm. Maybe I am, but family members seem to be a dime a dozen in this house. I’m fucking tired of all of them, even if I can’t remember their names.
“Still doesn’t help,” I shrug, watching as he rolls his eyes and gets his ass moving.
I follow him down the hall, making sure I roll my hips just right so I don’t appear to be limping. The more I move, the stiffer I feel. It’s not fucking fair.
Walking down the stairs is more painful than I’d like to admit, and I greet my father where he’s waiting for me.
“About damn time,” he grumbles. “No daughter of mine is greeting her future husband without a weapon, are you wearing a gun, Rosa?”
“The way everyone is manhandling me, no,” I say. “I figured someone would take it.”
Pulling a weapon from his back, he shakes his head in annoyance.
“Someone go get her thigh holster. If you were wearing a gun, your lesson wouldn’t have needed to happen, Rosa.”
I remain silent, unable to process his words. He just said I deserved to be raped… What father treats their child like this?
I go through the motions of putting on my holster once it’s brought to me from my room. It’s one that velcros to my thigh, so I can adjust how tight it is. Fitting the gun inside, I fix my dress and stand tall, waiting for the next thing my father wants done.
The pain in my body is a constant throb, and I have to really focus on what’s happening around me to keep myself from disassociating. It will get me killed if I miss something important.
“Nico is waiting for you in the garden,” Papa sighs. “I’ll walk you out there now, since you took forever to get ready. Remember I’ll be watching.”
I’m reminded of all the extra surveillance he’s put around the house, effectively destroying my previous safe haven, and I respond respectfully. Papa probably has the entire garden wired for sound as well. The only thing he’s allowed me to keep is the rose bush I love.
It’s too bad I’ll be leaving even that behind soon.
My heels click across the marble floor as I follow him with a few of the family surrounding us. This is meant to appear to be a show of power, but my future husband would be an idiot to believe he could ever double cross the Accetta family.
I commit his name to memory, reminding myself of all the small details my father told me about him. My throat feels dry yet again, and I hope he’s a talker. The less I have to speak, the better.
“Nico,” Papa says warmly, making me shudder. He’s rarely this nice, and it brings home the fact that my father needs me to get married. “I am so sorry about the wait. My daughter required more time than I expected.”
Nico stands, his brown curls sitting artfully over his forehead. He doesn’t toss his head to get it out of his eyes, he simply leaves it to partially obscure his green eyes.
“I don’t have any problems waiting for a beautiful woman,” he says, shrugging. “Hello, Rosalia. It’s wonderful to meet you.”
Begging my vocal cords to work, I force a smile and lie. “The pleasure is all mine. Welcome to our home. The gardens are one of my favorite places on the property.”
Well, the last part isn’t a lie. Fuck. I don’t want to give him any part of myself, or I won’t be able to remember who I am as time goes on. Storytelling is a slippery slope, and I want to be in control of the information I give Nico.
“Good, good. You’re both already getting along very well. I’ll allow you both to get to know each other.”
Papa pushes me forward as my eyes widen, and I realize I’m expected to speak more than merely nodding and smiling.
“Papa, I’m afraid I have a tickle in my throat. Can someone bring me some water, please?” I ask, turning to meet his gaze.
He stares at me for a long moment before his lips split into a smile. He did this to me, he can make sure I get some goddamned water.
“I’ll have a bottle brought out to you, mia figlia.”
“Thank you, Papa,” I say, my voice betraying the raspiness in my voice. Fuck.
Deciding to sit in the garden that has been a balm to my soul for much of my life, I turn toward Nico and take a few steps to sit. My ass tells me what a mistake that was, but there’s nothing for it now.
Standing up like it's on fire will cause more attention than I want.
“Tell me about yourself, Nico,” I suggest, remaining still as he sits across from me.
My father’s men leave the garden, but I can’t relax.
The enemy is still here, and all I can do is hope I can hold on until I can escape to my room again to heal.
Hopefully he doesn’t look too hard beyond the surface of my dress, makeup, and hopeful smile, because hope isn’t something that lives in my heart.
Not anymore.