Teaser Chapter #2
But there’s a certain thrill you get when you get to feel the actual thing in your hands, like when you’re shopping for your next Chanel.
It’s just not the same as if you’re right at the store.
You’re served a drink of your choice, and they bring you the bag—the feeling of the leather, the way it shines under the fluorescent light.
Shopaholic or not, I love spending money, and I know a lot of other people do too. But they don’t admit it. Instead, they judge others because they’re miserable.
When the car stops in front of the townhouse, I only grab four bags: the Sephora ones.
Last time I let these savages who work for my brother handle my makeup, they managed to break three blushes, a bronzer, a highlighter, and a foundation bottle.
It not only got all over the other products, but it leaked and ruined some of the new clothes I had bought as well.
Making my way up the stairs, I hear the low murmurs of a couple of guards.
“Doesn’t feel right…but the boss hasn’t said anything.”
I pause, unsure what they’re talking about. Was there another attack? Could it be what Matteo wants to tell me tonight?
Brushing it off, I continue on my way, closing my door behind me. I slump against it, knees drawn close to my chest.
The paranoia that someone is watching me has been at the back of my mind since that night. It’s burned into my soul, buried into my bones, and seared into my mind.
Today was just one of those days where I can’t walk around without thinking someone is following me. It usually ends with me in bed by two in the afternoon, panicking and hyperventilating under the covers.
But I can’t do that right now because I need to head over to Valentina and Emiliano’s place in an hour. Instead of showering and throwing on better-fitted clothes, I stay rooted in my spot, paralyzed by the fear that if I move, everything will fall apart.
It takes me longer than I’d like to admit. My palms hurt, the skin red, moon-shaped crescents indented into my palm. I shoot a message to Valentina, letting her know that I’m going to be late.
Me:
Hey Val, I’m going to be half an hour late.
Took a long shower lol.
I shouldn’t lie, but being honest feels like it’s a worse option than lying.
Her reply comes back quick.
Val:
It’s cool, no worries.
Take your time. Hope it was a good hot shower.
Me:
Thanks. Hot shower all the way.
She hearts my last message, and with that, I set my bags in my walk-in closet. My dress pools at my feet, and my fingers brush over the raised lines on my thighs—some faded, some fresh. The newer ones are still tender.
Some days, the memories choke me, curling around my throat like invisible hands. And on those days, when I hate myself just a little more than usual, I find relief in the only way I know how.
The hot water pounds against my skin, and I stand there, staring off. The steam thickens around me, curling into shadows. A voice slithers through the fog.
“You think anyone is coming for you?”
My breath catches.
“Hmm, you’re nothing.”
I flinch as her words bounce around in my head, getting louder by the second.
“You’re pathetic, helpless, needing someone to save you. You’ve never had to work for anything in your life, let alone lift a damn finger.” She grips my wrist, shaking me.
I slide against the tiles and hug my knees to my chest.
“Stop,” I whisper.
Her hand runs over my cheek. “You think this is bad? Wait until I hand you over to the highest bidder. Someone who’ll pay a fortune just to ruin you completely.”
“Stop!” I choke out, sliding against the tile, hugging my knees. “Stop.”
The water runs down my body, pooling at my feet. The bathroom light flickers—or maybe it’s just my vision going hazy.
I don’t know how long I stay there.
I don’t remember getting out of the shower. Or wrapping a towel around myself.
But I’m here, sitting at my vanity, a brush in my hand, swiping bronzer over my cheekbones. My reflection watches me, distant. I don’t recognize myself.
The girl in the mirror has my face, my features…but something is off. Her eyes are too hollow. Too haunted. She looks like a stranger.
My hand trembles, the brush slipping from my fingers. It clatters against the vanity, rolling onto the floor. I press my palms onto the glass, leaning un, my breath fogging up the mirror.
Come back. Come back.
A knock at the door makes me jolt.
“Mara?” Ma’s voice is soft. She has no idea I just drowned in my past.
I swallow, reaching for a pink lipstick, mask back on.
“Yeah,” I call out, voice steadier than I feel. “I’ll be down in a sec.”
I press my lips together, making sure the lipstick blends well, before I stand, running my hands through my hair.
Ma is downstairs by the door, waiting for me, a basket of food on her hip. She smiles at me, soft and bright.
“Ready?” she asks.
I nod, looping my arm through hers. “Yes, let’s go. I’m already late enough.”
She opens her mouth as if to say something before she closes it and shakes her head. We take the limo to Val and Eli’s place. The ride doesn’t take long, but I can see our driver, Sam, looking in the rearview mirror a couple of times as if nervous.
And for a second, that same exact feeling I had back at the mall is back. I can feel the goosebumps on my arms, and I look at the back window to see if there’s anything there, but I can’t make out anything because New York is filled with cars.
I brush it off. It’s probably nothing anyway. And by the time we reach the underground garage, I’ve completely forgotten about the entire thing.
My thumb brushes the call button on the private elevator for the penthouse.
Valentina’s voice crackles through the tiny speaker. “I’ll let you up, Mara.” Ma and I step inside the elevator; our guards stay downstairs, manning the doors.
The doors slide open into Eli and Val’s living room, and in front the ceiling-to-floor window, showing me a view of New York City at sunset. Ma steps out of the elevator first, hugging Valentina. I follow behind her, my fingers toying with the hem of my dress.
“Hey. Thanks for watching Bianca for us. You know you didn’t have to,” Val says, giving me a kiss on the cheek, her hands wrapped delicately around my shoulders.
“You know I wanted to. Besides, who can say no to little Bee?”
Emiliano chooses that moment to come into the living room, holding Bianca in his arms.
He must’ve heard me, because he grumbles, “Lucio apparently can.”
“Stop complaining. Your brother doesn’t have to watch Bianca,” Valentina tells him.
He gives her a grin, kissing the top of her head.
I didn’t think there would be a day where my brother actually found love. He loved us, but he always said marriage was a chore, a duty, something to benefit the Camorra.
“Hey, Ma.” Eli moves toward Ma and also gives her a kiss on the head. “How have you been? Ronaldo said you were going in for more scans.”
Ma brushes his question off as she takes Bianca off his hands. “It’s nothing, no need to worry. How’s my granddaughter?”
Bianca beams at her nonna, giving her a smile.
“Oh my God, when did she get her second tooth?” I ask, moving closer to Bee.
“She’d been teething for a while now, and crying for weeks.” Eli says, and when I look at him, I spot a volatile and vulnerable look in his eyes, his gaze locked onto his daughter.
I pity the fucker who’s going to fall in love with her.
“You guys need to head out. We’ll be fine here, and Matteo is on his way.”
Emiliano grabs his and Val’s coats, his brows knitted together. “Why’s Matteo coming?”
I shrug. “He said he wanted to talk about something, but I just think he wants to hang out with me, but he didn’t know how to say it.”
Val lets out a small laugh as she lifts her hair out of her coat. “He really needs to learn to be a better communicator.”
“It’s just the way he is. Even as kids, he had trouble expressing his feelings,” I tell her.
Ma nods, agreeing with me.
Eli rushes Valentina into the elevator, as if he can’t wait to get out of here and have his wife all to himself. Ma shakes her head, amused, before she settles on the L-shaped couch with Bee in her lap.
I drop my handbag on the chair opposite the couch and grab the TV remote, flicking through for a couple of seconds before dropping onto the chair. Nothing seems appealing right now.
“Are you okay, Mara?” Ma asks.
I look up to look at her, but her gaze is on Bianca.
“Yes, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask.
I don’t know if she heard me in the shower or what, but I’m really sick of everyone asking me the same damn questions. It not only pisses me the fuck off, but it makes me paranoid, scared that they know. Know what I do to myself. The cutting, the insomnia, the night terrors.
But they don’t know. And they don’t have a right to know. This is my problem to deal with, and I’m happy with the way I’ve chosen to deal with it. I don’t want them prying.
“That’s not what I asked, tessoro. But you look tired, and it isn’t just today.” This time she looks at me, and I see that look in her eyes.
I hate that look. The look of pity. The look that says I know you’re struggling.
I stand abruptly, feeling as if my skin is crawling with the anticipation of being found out.
“I’m making myself a drink. Do you want one?” I lick my lips, as if I’m parched.
Ma shakes her head and goes back to looking at Bianca.
The kitchen is clean, counters organized, and bottles of milk are in the fridge, ready for Bianca.
I wonder how Val adjusted to being a mother after everything she went through, the trauma of being taken and tortured.
She never talks about it—she acts as if the whole thing never happened—but I see the way her smile slips every once in a while, how she gets a faraway look in her eyes whenever she looks at Bianca.