Two
LIANA
A week later
Being an only child is hard, but being the only daughter of a well-known businessman is a difficult task in itself. With my mother completely out of the picture, my father raised me to the best of his ability. I assume that wasn’t easy for him, but I’ve never heard a complaint.
I can still remember the day I realised our lives had changed. It was my tenth birthday party and he went all out. He had rented a rather large bouncy castle in my favourite shade of purple, accompanied by matching metallic balloons and wrapping paper on what felt like hundreds of presents. He even let my friends stay the night.
Everything started off slowly with his dream business. Then, there was enough money to completely change our lives. He became a better father, was happier with his profession and his face was on the covers of newspapers and magazines for years. It also led to some drastic changes, including our home. To name just one thing, the main hall I currently stand in as I wait for my father’s arrival is bigger than the entirety of the ground floor of our old house.
The black and white tiles usually glisten in the sunlight that peers through the skylights above, but right now, the sun is slowly setting, allowing the darkness to become one with my surroundings. On either side of me sits identical white tables with an assortment of pink blossoms, peonies and small, white rose buds, and two small decorative ornaments on either side of the vase that I’ve never been able to make out. In front of me is the door, an array of black hooks lining the left side and a beautiful faux sheath that intertwines effortlessly, a deep red ribbon in the centre to bring it all together.
My father is the kind of man that relies only on himself to right wrongs in the workplace, which has granted us the luxuries of this beautiful home. But god forbid he ever lets me contribute. In his eyes, I’m nothing more than his baby girl, and with that, comes the bubble he’s placed me in for protection.
The minute my father walks through the front door, his whole aura is off. I can sense there’s more to him than meets the eye tonight—the unease in his demeanour is strong and I can feel the tension hovering just below the surface of his outer shell, but I know he won’t talk about it. Not to me, anyway. Sometimes, I feel as if I know my father better than myself, so it’s hard to watch him be completely different from his usual upbeat self.
I’ve recently found him to be preoccupied, like something has robbed him of his spark, but he refuses to talk about it.
“How was your day, Principessa?” he asks, feigning a soft smile as he inches closer before meeting me in the middle of the main hall. His eyes are slightly bloodshot, his tie extremely loosened and his shirt missing the top three buttons.
No matter how stressful or exhausting his day is, he always makes sure mine never differs, but I can sense the effort is draining him.
“It was fine, Papa,” I lie. It makes no difference how bad my day was, I simply don’t have the heart to mention it.
“We have a few guests coming tonight…” He pauses for a moment. “It gives you an excuse to dress up.”
“You know me so well,” I say with an excited smile. “Is there a particular reason, though?” Having guests is one thing, but it’s never out of the blue like this. He can be a suck up sometimes, so to make a good impression is important to him. Where possible, he usually goes out of his way to ensure his guests have whatever they desire.
I remember one time, he had a small dinner party with no more than a dozen guests. It was the first one I was permitted to attend and it was something I’ll never forget. My father had gone all out—the usual decorations in the dining room were replaced with fresh floral arrangements, a tablecloth to match and a large gold candelabra. The private chef my father hired went through extensive scrutiny to ensure everything was just right. He pre-ordered a large selection of wines, my father’s favourite scotch and meticulously chose each meal to cater to each individual guest. On some level, I should have known my father was trying to impress Chiara’s family. It will forever be the worst week of my life. My father was closed off and never had time for me. I felt like I was being punished.
“I was thinking you, Anabel and Chiara could make use of your mother’s dresses.” His body shifts slightly as that word leaves his lips.
Our entire conversation is entering the strange category. It’s not unusual for my father to have business associates around for dinner, but he’s always preferred it to stay within the family, so that none of the topics discussed would be exposed to the public and tarnish our name. While I know I can trust Anabel, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s not our family. Not by blood. And my mother’s closet? He prefers to keep those doors closed, saving himself the heartache of the painful memories of her leaving us.
“Annie’s coming to dinner?” I ask.
“I let her know before I left the office. I hope that’s okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” I reassure him. “I was just wondering, that’s all.” He gives me a subtle nod before walking over and kissing my forehead, then turning to walk towards his office.
∞∞∞
“Which one?” Annie asks, lifting two dresses to her slim figure in my floor-length mirror, but I stare at her blankly, my mind void of any thoughts except for the ones swimming around with curiosity and a slight hint of tension about tonight.
She alternates the dresses in front of her body, trying to make a decision, until suddenly, she’s seating herself next to me. “What’s going on up here, Lia?” She presses the tip of her finger to the side of my head and I exhale in defeat.
“I-I don’t know anymore, Annie. My father… he doesn’t seem like himself anymore,” I whisper softly. “He’s not the same man he used to be. He’s grown more… closed off, secluding himself within some sort of barrier that prevents him from sharing anything with me.”
She positions herself in front of me in a squatting position. “He’s fine, Lia; he’s a busy man. Work is stressful for a man of his stature.”
I know she’s right, but even so, it seems like he’s distancing himself, and for twenty-three years he’s been nothing but straightforward with me. Even as a child, he ensured I knew how wicked and distorted the world was to prepare me for life through the camera lens.
I nod to assure her I understand, but I don’t. Not fully. Is he struggling with work? Is his marriage crumbling? What happened to the father I had growing up?
Distracting me from my thoughts, Chiara walks in already dressed to the nines with a light face of makeup, a deep red dress to match my father’s tie, a pair of black three-inch stiletto heels and adorned with her favourite jewellery for special occasions.
“Come on, girls, we’ve got like twenty minutes before they arrive. Get a move on.”
“Are you and Dad alright?” I ask, lifting my head to her without missing a beat. “I mean, does he seem off to you?”
“Thank God, you’ve noticed it too,” she sighs with relief, rushing towards me. “Do you think he still loves me? I mean, I know I’m significantly younger than him, but—”
“He loves you with everything he has, Chiara, and so do I. Your age doesn’t make a difference here. He knew how old you were before your marriage; why would that change now?”
She puffs her cheeks out as she exhales again. “Maybe it’s just work,” she suggests in an optimistic tone. “As of late, he’s been overworking himself. I know he’s the boss, but he takes his job too seriously. He lets one wrong thing ruin his entire day.”
“Let’s hope this business dinner makes things better.” God, I don’t even believe my own words.
She smiles, placing a gentle hand over mine. “I’m sure it will. Now come on, get dressed.”
Lifting myself off the bed, I make my way over to the dresses Anabel hung on the back of my door, the same ones she couldn’t choose from a few moments ago. “I like this one; it compliments you.” I hold up the olive-green dress that sets off her dark brown eyes. “Your black chunky heels would be a perfect match. You know, the ones with the ties that wrap up your legs?” She nods, understanding my exact choice and rushes out of the room.
I laugh, walking over to the bed and placing the dress on top of it before turning back to the array of others hanging on my closet door.
“I’m going to check on your father,” Chiara says, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Will you be ready soon?”
I nod. “Yeah, I think I know what I want to wear.”
She smiles before disappearing, the clack of her heels descending the hallway.
I’ve always wondered what my mother would think if she caught me perusing through her dresses. It’s like someone hung her whole life up on a rail and folded it into drawers, as if she were never a person, but a belonging to keep.
While my father has moved on to a great woman, he still doesn’t have the heart to rid the room of her things. I think somewhere deep down, he still has hope she’ll return and explain everything. He’d forgive her in a heartbeat, I just know it, but where would that leave me? Where would that leave Chiara? His biggest weakness will always be the love he has for my mother. She left a wonderful man and her daughter to do God knows what, and I will never be able to forgive her for the pain she’s caused.
∞∞∞
“Liana! Anabel!” My father beckons, his booming voice vibrating through the house.
“We’ll be down in a minute!” Anabel answers, annoyance sounding in her voice.
She has been by my side since college, making herself a permanent part of our family with her long stays here. My father treats her like a daughter, and he’s like a father to her.
Her own father has been absent her whole life. He stuck around a measly eighteen months, long enough to completely bankrupt the business my father helped him build. He was a pathetic excuse of a man, one who changed my father and how he viewed the world, and anyone who has had the displeasure of working with him would agree. Her stepfather, on the other hand, treats her as if she’s his own flesh and blood.
Glancing at myself once more in the mirror, I rake my eyes over the black silk dress I chose. The backless, breast-accentuating, skin-tight dress fits me like a glove, but it’s not my usual style. The colour, however, is what caught my attention in the first place. Black is my favourite, besides purple, of course. It reminds me that the world is and always will be black and white with a splash of colour here and there.
My eyes dart over to the door as light from the hallway seeps in, finding Anabel standing in the doorway, gripping the handle, impatiently tapping her heel as she waits for us to leave.
I chose the right dress for her. Her strawberry-blonde hair cascades down her back with a few strands framing her face. The floral tattoo on her shoulder peeks from under her hair, all the vibrant colours inked into her skin on modest display.
Walking towards her, I follow her lead through the halls to the wide staircase. Arm in arm, we take each step in unison until we reach the bottom and turn to follow the chatter that bounces off each wall.
Each step I take brings me closer to whatever awaits me behind the doors in front of me. I know this dinner is important, it’s the only reason my father would announce it so late, but the reason is still unknown to me. And I’m not sure I want to find out.
The last time my father announced a last-minute meeting with his associates, I was in my last year of boarding school and I returned home four months early because my father ‘needed’ me. I was unable to return due to the strict rules the dean had in place, so I never even graduated. It was a business meeting that lasted no longer than an hour and I wasn’t even included. I still never found out the meaning for it all.
”There you are,” my father says, his voice quieting the already hushed voices, bringing everyone’s attention to Annie and me. “Wow, you look beautiful, Principessa. You clean up well, Anabel.”
When my father mentioned a few guests, I figured two or three, maybe four at a push. But, as I take a step back in awe of the eight vaguely familiar pairs of eyes that stare into my soul, my skin pricks.
We make our way to our seats. As usual, my father sits at the head with Chiara to his left, me to his right, and the rest of the guests spread out across the table.
My father mumbles something incoherent under his breath before turning to introduce me to the table. “Ladies, gentlemen, I’m sure you remember my daughter, Liana.”
“You’ve grown up fast,” the man two seats down says with a smile. “I could swear I saw you not long ago, but that’s clearly not the case, is it?”
I offer a tight-lipped smile, not knowing how to respond before turning to face the man opposite me. His eyes are already dancing on my skin, adding fuel to a fire I never knew ignited, but it’s as if he pays no attention to me noticing him. His eyes scan down my chest to my stomach until there’s nowhere else for them to go, forcing him to retrace his steps and, for a moment, our eyes meet.
For the seconds that he and I hold eye contact, the entire room stops and spins. His deep green eyes bore into my honey-brown ones, sending shivers down my spine. My icy-blonde hair has nothing on his midnight-black strands that drape down his face, swaying back and forth with each breath. The guests’ fragrances mingle together in the air, but the scent of cigarettes and mint weigh heavier, and I can only imagine it belongs to him.
Before I can breathe anymore of him in, he licks his lips with a half smirk, bringing me back to the present.
“Liana, sweetie, you remember the Vitale family, don’t you?” my father questions, placing his palm on my forearm.
“No,” I tell him in a whisper, my cheeks heating.
Light laughter sounds down the entire table. “That’s okay, dear. It’s been over a decade since we last saw each other in person.” A woman seated across the table and a few seats down speaks, and all heads snap her direction.
“I’m sorry,” I say before turning to my father, “is it necessary for me to be here for this part of dinner? I usually come in after the formalities and before any deals are made.” Heads swing my direction, all of them holding narrowed expressions.
“ Pensavo che glielo avresti detto? ” The older man sitting towards the end of the table says. I thought you were going to tell her.
I can only assume he wanted to have a private conversation, but everyone except Anabel seems to understand. Chiara whips her head at my father, her eyes searching him as if seeking an answer.
“ Non potevo farlo. ” I couldn’t do it.
“You couldn’t tell me what?” I fold my arms across my body and my back stiffens.
Since I was old enough to understand, my father had me taking Italian classes to ensure I would keep in touch with my roots. They’re talking about me as if I can’t understand.
My father gulps, forcing a swallow before opening his mouth, only to clamp it shut again after stuttering a few times.
“Your father—”
“Dario,” the older man says, his words laced with a silent warning. “Let Gabriel explain this to his daughter. We’ll be outside when you’re ready.” Everyone lifts themselves from their seats and exits the door that leads to the entertainment room.
“Anabel—”
“She stays,” I hiss, cutting him off.
“Very well,” he says with a nod, slightly readjusting himself to face me properly. “Do you remember the day I didn’t come home until 2am?” I nod.
How could I ever forget? It’s the day he completely changed, becoming only a fragment of himself.
“Someone hacked into the company’s assets, almost wiping us out completely.” The look on his face speaks volumes. “It was the worst thing we’d ever endured and it wasn’t just the job that put me over the edge, it was the money the company had lost. He takes a shaky breath before releasing it, sending a feeling of nausea through me. “I had no other choice than to turn to Vincent for a loan. It was either that or let all the years of hard work I put into the company just disappear.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I breathe. “You let me believe everything was fine—”
“I know, Principessa, and I’m sorry, but I couldn’t bring my daughter into it.” His voice is low and full of shame. “I wanted to believe that I could do it alone and when I couldn’t, I had no choice but to involve the Vitales. It wasn’t planned, Liana, it was spur of the moment and a last resort.”
“What about your wife?” Chiara asks in disbelief. “We’re supposed to be partners. You’re not supposed to struggle alone.”
“I thought if I got the company back on its feet again, then everything would be fine and revert back to normal.”
“But it hasn’t, has it?” I ask, the sinking feeling in my gut plummeting further.
“In the past year, I’ve only been able to pay back less than half of what I owe. It left me with no choice but to strike another deal with the Vitales until they’ve been paid in full.”
“Just tell me, Papa! I can’t be sitting on the edge of my seat for however long this takes.” My voice emanates annoyance that earns a heavy sigh from him.
“Until the debt is satisfied, you’ll be staying with the Vitales. In a few weeks, if it’s still not paid off, you’ll,” he pauses as if to choose his next words carefully, “you’ll marry him. Dario, I mean. Once they’ve been reimbursed, you’ll be free of the contract.”
Everything he says next is a blur to me—my vision, his words, even Anabel as she tries to console me and Chiara as she yells at my father.
I fight back the silent tears that threaten to escape my eyes as I attempt to mask my emotions behind a brave face. “I’m collateral to you?” My voice comes out as nothing more than a whisper, and for a split second, his eyes widen at my question. “You’ve had a year to put the money together, to put the money you needed aside, and you failed, yet you think you can pay over half of your debt in a mere few weeks? Are you mentally deranged? Have all those sleepless nights finally gotten to you?”
I take several shallow breaths. “I’ve spent a whole year thinking you continued to strive alone, but it was all a lie. You’ve been counting down the days until I would leave home and be thrust into this man’s arms, weren’t you? Are you relieved that all your fatherly duties are over now? Are you happy that I’m not your problem anymore?”
He continues to stare at me, dumbfounded. “You should’ve known that this wouldn’t end how you thought it would. You should’ve known that borrowed money, no matter the amount, would take time to pay back. You can’t worm your way out of this shit now.”
Finally opening his mouth to speak, I cut him off, staring daggers at him, and thrust my finger into his chest. “You don’t get to try and explain yourself now. You had the chance, and you decided not to or maybe you couldn’t find the words. I don’t know. But either way, you made the mistake of making this deal so fucking own it.”
“I never meant—”
“You never meant what?” I bite back.
He’s taking my angry words with as much pain as I give them. We both know I wouldn’t usually raise my voice to my father this way, but clearly, times are changing.
“You never meant to hurt me? To sign me away as nothing more than an object to hold? What possible explanation could you have that would right these wrongs? You don’t think I’ve heard stories of the ruthless, cold-hearted, egotistical, stubborn–to name a few–Don, who not only kills people for a living but enjoys it, too?”
The stories, rumours and lies I’ve heard are nothing more than what a younger me would consider fucked-up fairytales. Stories parents would tell their children to get them to behave, like the Bogeyman or Krampus. Instead, this twisted tale is my reality. I’ll be sitting dead centre, getting a front-row seat to this man and the antics he and his family get up to behind closed doors. I’ll get to see the activities they take part in that even police can’t pin on them, because there’s no evidence.
“I honestly– I-I don’t– h-how could—” I stutter pitifully, no longer able to remember my last thought. I see nothing but deep red seeping from the walls as a clear indicator of what my future holds.
Given what this family is capable of, and what the man I’m to marry can do with that smirk on his face, I can only assume what would happen to me if I dared to speak my mind like I did with my father.
I waste no time in leaving the large hall, only to see the entire group of guests standing inches away from the door I slammed behind me. They all stare at me with pity in their eyes as if I’m someone grieving, which in some ways, I guess I am. Grieving the girl I was before this was sprung on me. Mourning the loss of my beloved father, whom I no longer recognise.
Tilting my head up, I lock eyes once more with the man who now owns me, his face riddled with greed amongst his cold demeanour.
With no hesitation, I push past him and run towards my room, locking myself in with the hopes my flimsy lock blocks the horror my life has come to. The horrors that await me in Dario Vitale’s clutches.