Damage: an Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

by Natasha Knight

  “What the fuck is going on, Gabriela?”

  She spins on her heel, stalks back toward me. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “It’s been a long fucking day.”

  She opens her mouth, but closes it again, and I feel like she’s full of words, full of seething, burning anger.

  “Talk to me,” I tell her.

  “Leave me alone. After everything that’s happened, I don’t feel much like talking to you. Just go.”

  I snort. “Are you dismissing me?”

  “Yeah. I guess I am. Get out. I mean it.”

  I go to her, walk her backward to the wall, press my chest to hers to keep her pinned.

  “I’m not going anywhere. Now tell me why you’re acting like a spoiled little bitch.”

  “Fuck you!”

  I slam my hands into the wall on either side of her head and she jumps.

  “Fuck off?” I ask.

  “Let me go. Get away from me.” She shoves at my chest.

  “Say it again,” I order.

  Her gaze burns.

  “I dare you. Say it again.”

  “No.”

  “No?” I ask, reaching to undo my belt, my jeans. I watch her as her eyes flit downward, as her breathing comes in short gasps. “But I want to fuck you. I want you to say it so I can give you what you want.”

  “That’s not—”

  I grip her hips, lift her off the ground. With my chest against hers, I keep her there as I reach to push the crotch of her panties over.

  “Let me go,” she says, her tone weaker than it was a moment ago.

  She digs her nails into my back, the shirt I’m wearing too thin to offer much protection.

  I brush my fingers over her wet pussy. “I don’t think you want me to let you go.”

  “I do.”

  I rub two fingers over her clit, and she closes her eyes, hands in my hair now, pulling at it.

  “Liar,” I tell her.

  “You’re the liar,” she accuses as I thrust into her.

  “Am I?” I ask, taking both legs and pushing them up toward the wall, opening her, pulling out to spear her again.

  “Let me go,” she gasps.

  “You’re mine. I’m not letting you go anywhere,” I say, shifting one hand to grip the hair at the back of her head, seeing her wince when I force her head backward. “Tell me something, how do you get a bump at the back of your head when you’re in a car chase? If you were turned around, you’d have hit the side of your face. Not the back of your head.”

  “Let me go.” She pushes against me.

  “I already told you. I’m not letting you go.” I thrust, draw out. “I’m never letting you go.”

  I bring my mouth to hers and kiss her and she bites my lip hard, drawing blood.

  I pull back, keeping her impaled while I wipe the blood with two fingers. I smear it across her lips then kiss her again, deep and hard, the way I’m fucking her.

  Taking her hands, I intertwine my fingers with hers and draw them up over her head, pulling back a little to look at her, feeling her wrap her legs around me, feeling them tighten.

  “You make me crazy you know that?” I say, tasting my blood on her when I kiss her again. “I should pull out of you. Not let you come. I should force you to your knees and come on your face and make you stay there like that, watch you on your knees with my come all over your face.”

  “I hate you,” she says through gritted teeth, moving with me, taking her pleasure.

  “You love me,” I say, and there’s a moment, a split second where we both stop. Where we’re suspended in time. And I look at her sea-foam colored eyes and I think it’s true.

  “I’ll never love you,” she says, her voice strange as she wraps her arms around me, closing those eyes, burying her face in my shoulder and grinding against me. “Never.”

  “Liar.”

  I thrust deep inside her, carry her to the bed and lay her on her back and I fuck her so hard that when she comes, she’s not whispering my name. She’s screaming it.

  25

  Gabriela

  Before we leave the next morning, I find myself alone with Rafa in a corner of the lobby.

  Stefan’s on a call. He’s in another part of the lobby, his back to us. I watch him as I talk to Rafa.

  “Are you okay?” he asks.

  I shift my gaze to his. “Am I okay? You fucking asshole. Am I fucking okay? No. I’m not okay. Not even a little okay.”

  “I meant what I said. I’ll help you hide him, at least.”

  After leaving my father’s house yesterday, Rafa made a proposition. I don’t know if it was out of guilt or if he felt somehow sorry at how fucked up my relationship with my father is or what, but he told me he’d help me get Gabe out of Clear Meadows and put him somewhere safe. Somewhere neither Stefan nor my father would know about. I don’t know if he thought that would make it okay or make me trust him or if he gives a fuck if I do, but I do know that if I manage to hide Gabe away, not my father or Stefan or Rafa can know where. Each one of these men is as dangerous as the other.

  I realize he’s still talking a moment later. “Help you if you need any—”

  “Help me against Stefan? He trusts you and you betrayed him. For my father. He’ll kill you if he finds out.”

  “He’s not going to find out.”

  “Are you so sure?”

  “You didn’t tell him. And I don’t think you will.”

  “Don’t be so cocky. It doesn’t suit you. Was anyone even following us? Or was that part of your trick?”

  He doesn’t answer and all I can think is what a fool I am. How easy to manipulate.

  I school my features when Stefan glances our way. I don’t bother smiling. I don’t know what I’m going to do. All I know is they’re all liars, Stefan, my father, Rafa. Each one has betrayed me. Some more than once.

  “How much did my father pay you, anyway?”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “Then what’s it like? Explain it to me. Explain why you’d betray the man who thinks of you as a brother.”

  He looks at me with a sick expression on his face and reaches into his pocket to grab his pack of cigarettes. “You don’t know anything, Gabriela.” He brushes past me, knocking my shoulder when he does.

  “What was that about?” Stefan asks.

  I turn and am surprised to find him so close. He was at the far end of the room not a moment ago.

  “Nothing,” I say, looking up at him. He’s in a suit again, his usual dress code even for travel. I’m still processing what I learned yesterday. Still processing this, his latest betrayal.

  When he looks down at me, I shift my gaze away.

  He touches a finger underneath my chin and tilts my face up to his.

  “What’s the matter?” he asks. “What’s happened since yesterday afternoon?”

  My heart hurts at his words. At his tone. At the look in his eyes that I can’t trust. That I so badly want to—wanted to—trust.

  I jerk out of his reach. “Nothing. Can we go?” I say, simultaneously turning, taking a step back.

  He grabs my arm, stopping me, making me look over my shoulder at him. “Something. Tell me.”

  I just stare back at him. With my father, I didn’t suck at lying. At pretending. Although with him, we both knew how I felt about him.

  With Stefan, it’s different. I have to pretend. He can’t know that I saw my father yesterday. He can’t know that I know why he wanted guardianship of Gabe. If he does, the game is up. And I have to keep playing until I get my brother to safety. Until I get him out of reach of the men who can hurt him.

  “I’m just tired,” I say. “And still a little shook up, I guess.”

  He pulls me into his arms, rubs my back, holds me so close that if I’m not careful, I’ll lose myself in him. I’ll let myself believe in him again.

  “Let’s go home,” he says.

  The flight is uneventful. I close my eyes and pretend to slee
p, not wanting to talk to anyone.

  When we land in Palermo, Rafa goes his own way and when we get to the house, Stefan disappears into his study. I go up to my room and have to smile when, before I even reach it, I hear the birds chirping away inside. It’s a good sound, that.

  I walk in and they turn to look at me, to watch me walk toward them.

  “Well, hello,” I say, crouching down to put my finger through the bars. They both come to greet me and I love this. I love their innocence. Their trust.

  I open the balcony doors and take in the breeze. It’s warm but I stand in it, inhale the salt air. I love it here. I love it more than I do Rome. It’s the company I keep that’s the problem.

  After a quick shower, I head downstairs to find Miss Millie getting ready to go out.

  “Where are you going?” I ask.

  “Errands,” she says. “It’s market day and we need some things.”

  “Do you think I could go with you?”

  “It’s just errands, Gabriela.”

  “I don’t mind. I can help. And I’d love to see the market.” I don’t care about any of these things, but I want to talk to her.

  She softens. “Let’s ask Stefan. If he doesn’t mind, I’d love the company.”

  We both go to the study and Miss Millie knocks.

  “Come in,” Stefan says from inside.

  He’s sitting behind his desk with his laptop open. “Gabriela was wondering if she could join me at the market,” Miss Millie says.

  I hate having to ask his permission. It kills me. But I smile sweetly.

  Stefan shifts his gaze from her to me and I expect him to say no.

  “Take four extra guards and make sure Lucas is one of them.”

  “Four? That’s overkill, isn’t it?” I protest.

  “Is it?” he asks. “If you want to go, you take four extra men.”

  I turn to Miss Millie. “If you don’t mind?”

  “They don’t bother me,” she says, and we close the door and head into town.

  The market is set up on one long street a few blocks from the beach with stalls and stalls of fresh fruits and vegetables, with a variety of cheese and olives and meats, basket weavers, jewelry makers and all sorts of trinkets.

  I walk with Miss Millie as the men trail us.

  “Do you know Rafa’s father well?” I ask her.

  She tests two peaches and tells the woman at the stall how much she wants. “I’ve known Rafa since he was born, and although I know his father, Antonio didn’t like him, which meant he didn’t come to the house much.”

  “Why didn’t he like him?”

  She shrugs a shoulder as she takes the bag of peaches and puts them into her trolley then orders cherries. “He didn’t think Francesco was good enough for Rafa’s mother. Not that he thought anyone was.”

  “That’s a little bit of a strange story to me. So, the three of them lived together for a time? Stefan’s mom, dad and aunt?”

  “Yes. Antonio met Laura through her sister. They were very close before and even after he and Laura married.”

  “Like…” I trail off. She turns to me and I know I should tread lightly. “Were they ever together together?”

  She shakes her head. “Never. Not like that. Not that I know. I think they were just very good friends. The sisters were close, too. It was a house filled with love. Hard to imagine that sometimes. Hard to see how it all turned out.”

  “Miss Millie,” I ask when we reach the cheese stall. “I want to ask you something important.”

  She turns to me. “Of course.”

  I glance at the soldiers and she must read what I’m thinking.

  “Lucas,” she calls out to one of them. He comes over. “I forgot to buy apples. Go get me a kilo please.”

  He nods and disappears. She turns to me, smiles and gives me a wink. “He’s the only one who speaks English. Now ask me your question.”

  “It’s about Rafa. Do you trust him?”

  She studies me and I get the feeling she knows much more than she lets on. She may slip in and out of rooms like a ghost, but she hears and sees and knows.

  “I believe Rafa is a good person. I believe he loves Stefan.”

  “But?” Because I hear that but.

  “He’s conflicted, Gabriela. You have to understand that he grew up at Stefan’s side. They’re just a few months apart in age. But he always knew he wasn’t a Sabbioni. His father made sure he remembered that. Never gave him his own approval but made sure Rafa always knew he wasn’t quite part of the Sabbioni family. And we’re human. That breeds a certain hostility. A jealousy, maybe. Even if one is unaware of it. I don’t think Rafa would willingly harm Stefan. But although they may be as close as brothers, he’s no more than a soldier, even if he is on a rung above these men.” She gestures to the men hovering near us.

  Lucas returns a moment later. “These good, Millie?” Lucas asks, showing her the bag of apples.

  She peers inside, picks one out and inspects it. “Perfect. Thank you, Lucas. I’ll make my pie later.”

  “Can’t wait,” he says, and we move on.

  I replay what she just said. And what she didn’t say.

  I have so much to process and my first priority has to be moving Gabe. The thing is, I don’t have any money to do it. I can’t ask my father. I can’t ask Stefan. And the alternative, Rafa’s offer to move him, I’m not sure I want that.

  At the thought of Rafa, my father’s words come echoing back.

  You’ll want her to hear so she doesn’t go running to tell her husband the truth—the whole truth—because I think he’ll murder you with his bare hands if he hears what you did to his precious wife.

  The whole truth.

  What is he talking about?

  That breeds a certain hostility. A jealousy, maybe. Even if one is unaware of it.

  Miss Millie’s wrong. Rafa has already betrayed Stefan. Knowingly.

  But was it remorse that after my father admitted to my mother’s murder, he wanted to get me out of there? Was it guilt at his betrayal? Because Miss Millie’s also right about us being human. And nothing is ever black or white. Too much gray to cloud our thoughts, our actions. It’s intention that counts.

  No, that’s a cop out.

  Intention and action, the latter at least to some extent. Even if Rafa felt guilt at betraying Stefan, he still betrayed him when he took me to my father. When he lied to him about it.

  I’m glad I talked to Melanie when I was at Clear Meadows. I told her I’d try to move Gabe and that I wanted her to go with him. I remember how she looked at Rafa when I told her. Rafa who hovered at the edge of the room, a guard. A soldier. A jailor.

  I know if I’d wanted to walk out of there, he wouldn’t have let me go. And I think Melanie understood too. I mean, she knows who my father is. She’s smart enough to know that what happened to Gabe wasn’t an accident. And she promised she’d take care of him.

  When we get back to the house, I help Miss Millie unpack the groceries before going upstairs to my room.

  Something seems strange as I walk down the hallway, but I can’t put my finger on it. A sense of dread fills me, though, and has me slowing my steps. By the time I reach my door and put my hand on the doorknob, it’s sweaty and I realize what’s different.

  It’s quiet. Too quiet.

  I open the door slowly and look at the gilded cage of the lovebirds. It’s quieter yet in this room. Quieter than in the hallway even with the sound of the sea below.

  Because the birds aren’t singing.

  I see them before I even enter the room. See their pretty colors, the bright green and yellow, such happy colors.

  With heavy steps I reach the cage and my hand comes to my mouth. The birds are lying on their backs. Lying like they just fell right off their small perch into a scattering of bird food littering the floor of the cage. Side by side, lovers in life. Lovers in death.

  I kneel down and open the cage door to reach inside and lift Marguer
ite out. She’s so soft and light in my palm. I pet her little head, her still chest, and feel the trickle of a tear.

  “Gabriela?” Stefan says from behind me. “What are you doing?”

  I turn. I didn’t even hear him come.

  He looks at me, at the bird in my hand, at her lover lying in the cage. He walks slowly inside, forehead creasing.

  “They’re dead,” I say.

  He shifts his gaze to mine as he stands over us. “Dead?” He takes a few moments to lean down and look around. “Maybe they were old,” he says. “But…”

  Maybe they were. But for them to die together? Like this? That’s not natural.

  “I’ll get you two new birds,” he says to me.

  I shake my head, stand. I put Marguerite back inside the cage. “I don’t want new birds.”

  I turn away from him and from my closet, I take a pair of shoes out of its box and return with the box to the room. I arrange the tissue paper inside, making a small nest for them, then reach into the cage to take each bird out, Marguerite and Mephistopheles. Maybe I doomed them with those names.

  Placing them side by side in the box, I take one last look and place the tissue paper over them before putting on the lid.

  “I’ll bury them,” I say to Stefan.

  “We’ll do it together.”

  I shake my head. “Can you get the cage out of here?”

  “Gabriela, you don’t have to do it alone—”

  “I want to be alone!” I force in a breath to calm myself. “Please just get the cage out of my room.”

  One eye narrows but he nods, his gaze on me strange, worried maybe? But something else, too.

  Maybe he’s just looking at the crazy woman I’ve become.

  “Thank you,” I say and walk out of the room and he doesn’t follow me as I make my way down to the cove where I dig a hole with my hands, my eyes somehow dry. I put the box inside and cover the grave. I even say a little prayer over them. Stupid, I know. They’re just birds. But they were my birds. Even they couldn’t escape the danger that follows me. The death.

  After some time, I take out my cell phone and I call Rafa. He answers on the first ring.

  “Does your offer to help me still stand?” I ask.

  “Anything you need.”