Elena
Where’s the sound of bells? Where are the “Happily Ever After” banners? I huff under my breath, staring out the car window with my chin propped on my palm. They could’ve gone further with the image of an actual marriage. Why stop now?
The scenery passing outside is nothing short of breathtaking: the dark width of the ocean barely hidden behind green hills, and mansions big enough to hold a small parade. Even though the sun is barely seen above the horizon, bright windows and street lamps keep the street alive. You wouldn’t see something like this in Wisconsin-but god, I’d give anything to turn around and never witness it again.
I hated the hot sun and blazing luxury back when I escaped these lands-and now, I realize that nothing has changed. Chicago still makes me sick, and I let out an irritated exhale and look away from it.
The driver probably hears the noise but misunderstands it for impatience because a moment later, he clears his throat. “Almost there, miss.”
Well, I’m missus now, aren’t I?
The thought is bitter, so I say nothing in response and lean back into the seat with almost childish petulance, even crossing my arms for good measure. I don’t know what else to do, to be honest. Fight? Run away? I purse my lips and glance at Riccardo’s man in the front seat. Like I have any chance of escaping.
The dress is tight and uncomfortable, and I find myself writhing and trying to find a better position for myself when I catch a glance of the Italian guy in the mirror. I wonder why Riccardo sent him in the first place. Was he worried I’d jump out of the car rather than spend a night with him?
“What?” I glare at the guy, trying to fidget to a place where the ties of my corset wouldn’t be digging into my back. “I’m not doing anything.”
He says nothing and only murmurs something that sounds like an
Italian curse under his breath. Or not a curse, I don’t know. Everything in Italian sounds like they’re swearing at each other. What a dumb language!
I gather the folds of my dress into fists and look outside, feeling the ambers of anger glow in my chest. Every little thing just keeps irritating me, but hey, I’ve just sold my life to a goddamn Mafia don, so I have every right to be displeased.
Mom didn’t let me take Max with me, and that only adds up to my nervousness. I had to send him with Irina-she’s the only one I still trust in this family. Even though she still hasn’t forgiven me for not warning her about my escape eight years ago-but I don’t think even Irina would have understood me back then. No one would.
My thoughts lose focus, remembering back to the time I was frantically packing my things and sneaking out of reach of my personal security. I feel like maybe that was one of the things that made my family so mad-I did manage to escape from under their noses. But it had taken me a long time to prepare for it.
Almost three weeks had passed between the day I found out about my pregnancy and the day I stole my car from the family garage. It was a scary, detailed, and once-in-a-lifetime plan, but I needed it. I wanted my child to survive.
My heart grows with fondness when I think about Max, and I feel the tension in my body slightly let go. I don’t regret a single thing I did for him-and the way my family reacts to him only proves that I made the right choice. They wouldn’t have let me keep the son of an enemy.
“Signora Elena,” the Italian calls me, and only after that do I realize that the car is slowing down. “We have arrived.”
Oh. Already? I automatically turn to the window-and yes, it would be hard not to recognize it as a residence of the Don of the Messina Clan.
It’s really impossible to call it a house; the building before me looks more like a castle. Its three floors rise high above the ground, overlooking the parking lot that circles a big fountain in front of the main entrance. Soft lights illuminate it, dancing on the sprinkled droplets and emphasizing the gentle murmur of flowing water.
I can’t see too much of the land around the mansion even when I get out of the car, but I notice trees surrounding it from every direction. I guess Riccardo doesn’t like to be at the center of attention. I have just enough time to notice the blue lights of a pool behind the mansion and a few other cars in the parking lot before Riccardo’s guy turns to me and gestures at the entrance.
“This way.”
He rushes to the stairs, and I can’t help but quirk an eyebrow as I watch him. Of course, it’s easy for a man to run wherever he wants, but what about my stilettos? Does he expect me to run up there like a damn mountain goat? I don’t even budge and only place my hands on my hips, raising my chin just enough to remind him of my status when the Italian finally realizes that something’s wrong and turns around.
“Signora?” He sounds genuinely confused, and I can’t help a cold chuckle before I gesture at my dress.
“I’m not Cinderella, Signor. I’m not going to run up there on my own.”
Yes, maybe I sound a bit more arrogant than I actually am, but I can’t let them forget who I am. Uncle has never disowned me. I am still Pushkova, and I’m not gonna let them treat me like anyone else.
“Are you sure you’re not Cinderella? Because I’ve heard you have a habit of running away.”
I purse my lips and turn around as a wave of annoyance washes over me, prickling under my skin. Of course Riccardo has to show up exactly now. He walks away from his car with that indifferent look on his face that makes him look like he’s better than everyone else. Oh, I know that expression so well. It used to haunt me in my dreams-but if Riccardo thinks he can affect me now, I have a surprise for him.
“I do.” I stand up straighter as he lingers next to me and looks me over with cold curiosity. “Because I’ve never met a prince who would make me want to stay.”
Riccardo watches me for a second before a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, and he looks away. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice now.
Marco, be a gentleman and give the Signora a hand. I have more important things to do.”
With that, Riccardo walks up the stairs and disappears behind the doors without a single look my way. God, what an arrogant douchebag. I glare after him, ignoring the heat in my stomach, and only after Marco obediently comes down to offer me his hand do I come back to my senses. Damn it. How am I supposed to spend another day with him?
Or should I say, another night?
The thought disturbs something in my head, and while I push back the memories from the past, I can’t help the premonition of the future. Does Riccardo actually want to spend the night with me? I don’t know if the thought is frightening or aggravating, but I know for sure that I don’t want it to happen. Last time we had sex, it sent my whole life to hell.
As I finally reach the entrance-hand in hand with the guy who seems to be so unused to holding a woman that he almost stumbles a few times-I see the entrance hall in all its glory. It is huge, bright, and made of marble that almost glows in the light of artificial chandeliers. There are more stairs leading to the second floor, and while I’m looking around with a mixture of awe and caution, a young servant hurries down and toward us.
“Signora Elena.” She gives me a low nod that looks almost like a bow, but even when she straightens up, I notice that she keeps her gaze on the floor. “My name is Alice, I will be serving you to the best of my abilities. Your room is ready. Would you like to follow me?”
As Riccardo said, I don’t really have a choice. Besides, I can’t wait to finally take off this dress and be alone with my thoughts. I need a second to breathe and think about what to do next, and “my room” sounds like a good place for it. I mean, I’m not gonna share it with Riccardo, right?
“Yes, thanks.”
Alice nods as soon as I accept her offer and gestures for me to follow her. She turns back to the stairs, and my gaze automatically follows them to the second floor. Damn. Isn’t Riccardo rich enough to have an elevator or something? I look at Marco, who stands still in my grip, and reach for his elbow. Riccardo told him to help me, right? He didn’t say it was only to the entrance.
A few seconds later, Marco does yield to my grip, and I pull him after Alice who is patiently waiting for us at the base of the stairs. She looks so young, petite, and almost innocent. How on earth did she end up here? Although I should know better than anyone that looks can be deceiving. I used to be the same in college, and-Ah, why do I keep thinking about it?
I shake my head to get rid of the thought with a wave of frustration. Ever since I saw Riccardo at the altar, the memories of our past keep coming back to me, and I don’t want them, okay? I don’t want to remember the night that left me with nothing but misery and a son without a father.
I don’t let myself think about it further and, instead, distract myself with the wide windows to my left and the huge painting on my right. Everything here looks more expensive than my apartment in Wisconsin, and I feel a streak of resentment in my heart. My family home is no less blaring and luxurious, and the similarities make me hate both of these places even more.
“Here, Signora.” Alice finally guides me to a white door at the end of a passage and opens it before I reach for the door knob. “Your bedroom.” Of course, it’s as fancy as the rest of the mansion if not more.
While Marco promptly rushes back to where we came from, I step into my bedroom to see the palette of colors clearer. The whole room consists of white lines, dark furniture, and intricate patterns of blue and gray. Is it an allusion to the colors of my family? Probably, but I have to admit that I like the vision. Not enough to feel like I belong here, though.
“Signor has sent a present for you,” Alice murmurs, pulling my attention, and only then do I notice a thin package on the bed. A present from Riccardo? I frown and glance at Alice, but she doesn’t meet my gaze and only stares at her own hands. “Is there anything I may help you with?”
“No.”
“If you need me, just press the button.” Alice gestures at some kind of control panel on a bedside table and finally looks me in the eyes. “I will come back later to assist you, Signora. Feel yourself at home.”
At home? I chuckle and turn away from her. “Good joke.”
At last, Alice leaves the room, and I feel like I can breathe again without the daunting presence of the Italians and their pawns. I didn’t feel comfortable even with my family nearby, but here, it’s even worse. I take off my stilettos and drop myself onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. God, I miss Max. I miss our tiny apartment with the view of a local dog park. I miss my old life where I could be whoever I wanted to be.