3. Chapter 3
Rory
“Papà!” EVERYTHING IS RUINED NOW!” Fernanda’s nasally screech echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls and grating in my ears like nails on a chalkboard. I put my flat iron on the bathroom counter and walked through my bedroom, sneakily opening my door just a crack to hear their conversation.
“Principessa, we will find a dancer, don’t worry. Your engagement party will be exactly how you want it.” My stepfather’s voice was sugary and placating, the way a parent talks to a spoiled toddler to put an end to a tantrum. It sent a shiver of foreboding down my spine.
“Daddy!” she shrieked again, drawing out the word, and I heard her stiletto stomp against the marble tiles. I crept down the hall to the top of the stairs, peeking around the wall but staying out of sight. “Anastasia has the stomach flu and she’s the best! She was supposed to be there and now she won’t be! It’s going to be ruined!” Her voice shook with false tears that always resulted in her getting exactly what she wanted as she waved her hands through the air dramatically. The grossly ostentatious ring on her finger sent light reflecting all across the sitting area, casting rainbows across the white marble floors and painted walls. It was a huge, oval monstrosity, ringed by many smaller diamonds. It was beautiful, because it was a diamond, but it was ugly because it was just so flashy.
“We can have Aurora dance for you, darling. She’s good enough.” Fern gasped in offended outrage and Elio sighed dramatically. “Mia figlia, think of how it will upset her.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I promised her she did not have to attend tonight. I promised she could go out with that fica she spends so much time with. Imagine how miserable she will be when I tell her she will not only attend, but will be your entertainment for the evening.” The vicious glee in his voice made me feel sick. My stomach dropped and adrenaline coursed through my veins, but disappointment settled into my bones - right next to acceptance, when I heard Fern’s cruel laughter.
“Aurora!” Elio’s voice boomed down the hall and I scurried back towards my bedroom, making a show of loudly opening my door and walking down the hall.
“Yes, Elio?” I feigned innocence, my tone dripping with false niceties.
“Anastasia has fallen ill. You will dance for the engagement party tonight.” When I opened my mouth to protest, he held up a hand. “You will dance, and you will do it quietly. You will make Fernanda’s engagement party perfect for her or you will suffer the consequences.”
The consequences could be anything from a lashing to homelessness to death. He’d threatened them all, dangling the threats over my head to keep me complacent and willing to do whatever they asked of me. From house cleaning, to errands, to personal shopping for Fern - I was their servant in everything but name. They had actual servants for those tasks, but they preferred to torture me.
I looked between my stepfather and step sister and sighed. “What would happen if I should decline?”
Elio’s eye twitched and he moved toward me, only a few inches taller than me, even though I stood a stair above him. He looked at me mutely before he lashed out so quickly, I didn’t have a moment to prepare myself. His palm connected sharply with the side of my face before he said, “If you should decline, you will find yourself unable to decline a request ever again. Because, putanna,” he sneered, “I will take your tongue for disrespecting me and then you will dance anyway.”
Chills spread across my skin and I swallowed heavily. I ground my teeth together until they ached, but nodded stiffly. “I’ll start to prepare a musical arrangement. Will there be musicians, or will there be a DJ tonight?”
Fern, the spoiled little bitch, proudly told me they had a full quintet playing. I nodded sagely and turned back down the hallway.
When I got to my room, I texted Charlotte that I wouldn’t be coming out tonight and then set about picking music for the evening.
My hair was styled into a tight, perfect bun. My makeup was caked on, doing its best to hide the darkening bruise from Elio’s slap with glitter sprinkled across my eyelids and cheekbones. I wore a cream colored leotard and my best tutu, the pale pink one with the shiny rhinestones and sequins sprinkled through the tule. That was Fern’s demand.
My silver pointe shoes were laced perfectly, my music selection was beautiful and I was on a small platform off to the side of the room.
Partygoers walked by, admiring the beautiful ballerina with the graceful moves.
None of them knew the dark, ugly thoughts that spun through my head like a carnival ride, unleashing chaos and making me want to throw up. The fear of messing up even one of my routines lay heavily in my chest, a sturdy weight that prevented a full breath from expanding my lungs.
I smiled graciously as the current on-lookers moved on to admire other parts of the stupidly extravagant party.
Fern was to be married to the new Boss of the Irish Mob. I didn’t know what he looked like, but Fern hadn’t shut up about Callahan and his good looks since the engagement had been arranged.
The party was an excuse for Elio to flash his wealth around and remind everyone in attendance of who he was - but I knew the truth. I was largely ignored by my stepfather and stepsister, when I wasn’t being ordered about. Nobody paid much attention to me, the tiny, shunned stepdaughter of the Marino house. And so, I was able to slip about, eavesdropping on things I shouldn’t and witnessing things I sometimes wished I hadn’t.
One of the most interesting conversations I had overheard was when Elio told Fern that the marriage had to take place soon, because the Marinos were going broke - and fast. He was losing traction as a trusted leader. They needed Callahan’s money and influence to reassert Elio’s power, wealth and leadership of the New York Cosa Nostra.
I hoped with every bone in my body that Callahan was an evil man, one who would marry Fern for the clout and then make her fucking miserable. And I hoped to Hell and back he never gave the Marinos a fucking cent.