Chapter 18
VAL
I’d been locked inside my room for two days after we left the masquerade. Saul’s maids took turns sneaking in buttered bread and water for me.
While praying day and night for Stefano to make it out alive, I waited for Marco—or even Santo—to come see me, to tell me what happened.
No one ever came.
It had been easy enough to let myself believe Santo and I reconnected that night, that he still cared about me, and so easy to think I could trust Marco. But now, left alone with no support and nothing but my thoughts, I realized I didn’t really know anything at all anymore.
I didn’t know whether my brothers really had my back or if they’d simply chosen not to flaunt their cruelty in the same way Aris did.
Aris’s brand of savagery was almost preferable at this point, because at least I knew where he stood. And he didn’t waste his time giving me any hope.
Hope was the cruelest thing my family could give me.
A small part of me had hoped, though, at least until the fashionably late but unfashionably dressed Russian emissary showed up at the Palmer House.
I’d hoped Stefano would buy me.
But when fuckface Ivan confirmed his boss had planned to make a new offer after all, my hope instantly died.
Saul would go with the Russians. I believed it in my heart. Even if Stefano beat their offer, and he would, Saul would still choose the Russians rather than risk appearing inept to the other families while standing beside an up-and-coming young rival like Stefano Vignali.
Quit whining and figure out how to get back to Enzo.
I nodded to myself.
It’s not over until it’s over. So I got off the bed and paced the perimeter of the room, shuffling my bare feet across the wooden floorboards, sorting through all the information in my head to come up with a plan.
A productive plan, not one that would endanger my son.
I paced and cursed because my brain wasn’t giving me what I needed. I hadn’t eaten anything except those small portions of bread since before the ball.
The grandfather clock in the hallway chimed ten times.
God, I swore that old thing looked just like the Cogsworth character in Beauty and the Beast.
Then, as if Saul had an appointment for ten o’clock sharp, he turned the lock on my door and entered.
Followed by Aris, of course.
“Father.” I said in greeting, ignoring my twin’s existence.
Saul stopped in the center of the room and squinted.
“You’ve had a couple days to think about what you’ve done and the name you’ve dishonored more than once. So, Princess, what do you have to say about your actions?”
A headache throbbed violently behind my eyes.
I pressed a palm against my temple, hoping the pressure would ease the pain enough for me to think for a minute.
“Which actions?” I asked.
Saul sneered. “Yes, you have a few options, don’t you? Start with the ridiculous tales you spread about where you’ve been.”
“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me to tell everyone the truth, that you’d sold me to a bloodthirsty Russian monster, forcing me to fake my death to stay alive, which led me to give a rival boss in New York his first son.”
The old man huffed out a low chuckle, then, within like a millisecond, he was in front of me, his hand flying, the back of it crashing into my face.
His favorite move, and still I never saw it coming.
Blood spilled out of my mouth.
I toppled to the floor.
My head spun, and my ears rang.
Mother of Christ, the pain in my head.
As my vision returned, I pulled myself up onto my knees, then onto my feet.
“That’s why you’re so angry? Because I made up some silly stories at a party to amuse myself?”
Aris snorted.
“That’s the least of it.” Saul said. “Let’s talk about the how you decided to fuck some random man in the ladies’ room, a man that no one can seem to place. You’re a stain on this family’s name. I don’t understand why you do it because it’s also your name.”
He flexed his fingers, and his face turned a darker shade of red with every passing second.
I shook my head. “I didn’t fuck just some random man in the restroom,” I said. “The only man I’ve ever been with is the father of my son. The man I was about to marry.”
Saul leaned in, looming over me like a dark storm cloud.
Did the man just growl?
“Are you telling me that son of a bitch Vignali came into my city, defiled my daughter once again, and then had the balls to ask me for your hand? That fucking arrogant New Yorker!”
He lifted his shoulders to stand even taller above me.
“And they say they’re more civilized than us. Well, let me tell you, daughter, that man’s blatant disrespect is as savage as anything we do here.”
Laughter bubbled up into my throat. I covered my mouth, but I couldn’t hold it back. It burst out against my hand.
They stared at me. Maybe they thought I was insane.
“He didn’t ask for my hand,” I said, “and neither did the Russians. Talk about civilized behavior all you want, but you are selling me, your only daughter, like I’m livestock.”
My cheeks burned. Anger had crept up on me.
“They came here to buy me,” I screamed.
Aris chuckled. “You are livestock, you stupid cunt. Women like you are made for breeding and keeping bloodlines strong. You have one job, sister, that’s it. Lie on your back, conceive babies, and raise them.”
“What the fuck would you know about it?” I spat. “Is there another woman in this house I haven’t met? Your wife? Mother of your children? No, that’s right… you still follow your daddy around like a pathetic little man-child.”
“Enough,” Saul said.
Aris and I shut our mouths and locked our gazes on him.
Coming from Aris, the behavior was a show of respect, but for me, it was just an old habit I couldn’t shake.
“Fact is,” Saul continued, “for whatever reason I can’t begin to fathom, the Russians still have an interest in you. You may be a disgrace to this family, but Klimov’s emissary enjoyed your beauty. Another man will come by and look this afternoon.
“The son of the pakhan you were supposed to wed. If he likes what he sees, then we will sign the contract. And from this moment, you’ll keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told.”
The ringing in my ears intensified, bringing with it a stronger wave of lightheadedness.
“Or what? What will happen to me?”
“Excuse me?” His eyes widened with hatred.
“What exactly will you do if I don’t keep my mouth shut?”
Despite being on the verge of passing out, either from hunger or a concussion, my voice sounded steady and calm.
“I mean, if I misbehave, won’t you just sell me to the next highest bidder? So why should it even matter to me?”
“The next highest bidder is Stefano Vignali,” he said. “Well, technically he’s the highest, but you will never see him again. I don’t care if he offers me the fucking moon. If this meeting with the Russians doesn’t go as planned, I have no problem selling you to sex traffickers to get rid of you…
“And sweetheart, you don’t want to know what they do with disobedient little bitches like you.”
Then Saul turned on his heel and left the room.
Aris did not.
As soon as the door closed, I backed away from my brother. I understood what came next.
Saul knew I’d been with Stefano at the ball.
Worse, others had brought it to his attention.
This meant Aris would get away with more than usual.
“Leave, Aris,” I ordered.
He let out a low, sinister chuckle.
“Oh, I can’t leave yet, sister. Not until I’ve punished you. You need to learn your lesson.”
“Lesson for what, exactly? Shaming our father at the ball or pointing out your lack of real manhood?”
He bared his teeth at me.
“What the fuck did you just say to me, you little slut?”
I wouldn’t get out of this without more cuts and bruises or worse. It was already a done deal. The best chance I had was to piss Aris off more. When emotional men got angry, they got sloppy. For Aris, that meant a few things.
Either he lost his temper and knocked me out faster than he intended, so my pain wouldn’t last long.
Or he might injure me where it did finally affect my looks.
The Russians wouldn’t care about a red welt left on my face by Saul’s hand, a temporary mark. But if Aris broke my nose or tortured me in a way that left permanent marks, that would be a different story.
A woman—even an unmarried one with a child like me—could only be physically damaged so much before becoming completely worthless.
Either way, I wouldn’t get out of this room without more pain, but I could try to lessen it or make it count for something.
I hoped he left a deep scar on my fucking face.
“You heard me,” I said. “You’re not a real man, just a little lapdog.
Your daddy shouts a command, and you go fetch like a good little boy.
Do you think if you’re obedient, he’ll finally love you?
Do you think that’ll make him forget you’re a sick, fucked-up asshole who likes to wear Mom’s old shoes? ”
“You shut the fuck up!”
He leapt at me and slammed an uppercut into my ribcage faster than I could take another breath.
I doubled over and wanted to drop to the floor. It hurt like a bitch and forced all the air out of my lungs.
It wasn’t enough. He needed more provocation.
I coughed, increasing the pain, then forced myself upright.
“I’ve been wondering. Do you”—I coughed—“go full drag now, or do you still lie in your room, tugging on your tiny dick while sniffing the used stilettos you buy online?”
Yes, my twin had a foot fetish and liked women’s clothing.
Truly, I couldn’t have cared less. My words weren’t about how it made me feel. It was about provoking him, using his perversions and the shame that turned it into his weakness.
“Fuck you!” Aris screamed.
He launched his fist into my face, and I flew onto the floor.
My teeth ached inside my spinning head, and I immediately recognized the taste of more blood in my mouth.
I spat it on the filthy area rug and pulled up onto my knees.
“No thanks. I only fuck real men.”
His boot cracked into my stomach, the force sending me flat on my back again.