by Ella Miles
This is what I want. I want to fit in. I want to be seen as more than a princess. No one will ever suspect me being anything but ordinary.
Now for slipping out my house unnoticed.
I walk to my bedroom and stare down at my phone lying on my dresser next to my black purse. I grab the phone to slip it into my purse, but then think better of it. Matteo can track me with my phone. I can’t bring it with me.
I leave it on the nightstand, slip my purse strap over my shoulder, and strut out of my bedroom.
I walk straight to Angelo, my security team lead and prison guard, for all intensive purposes.
“I’ll be ready to leave in twenty minutes.”
“Of course, Miss Carini.”
My lip twitches when he calls me Carini. I need to think of another name when people ask what my last name is tonight.
“First, can you fix the door lock to my bathroom? It keeps giving me problems.”
“Of course, Miss Carini. I’ll have it fixed and then meet you at the Lamborghini in twenty minutes.”
I purse my lips. “Thank you.”
I strut by him like I’m headed to the bar to fix myself a drink before I leave. Angelo thinks I’m meeting with friends at the local bar tonight. But I don’t plan on doing anything typical. I plan on taking the least flashy car we own and driving it at least an hour away to the farthest, yet practical, town I can find. Then I plan on going to the busiest bar and find a man who wants me.
When Angelo enters my room, I make a hard turn to my right and head straight for the garage. I walk to the large, black Suburban. It’s not mine. It is a car the security team uses to drive around on the grounds when they need to get somewhere fast. I stare at my Lamborghini that I really want to drive. It’s fast, expensive, and a joy to drive. This thing is a tank that burns fuel for no reason, unlike my Lamborghini that brings fuel to life.
I can’t drive the Lamborghini.
I don’t want people to treat me differently. I can’t show up in it.
So I climb into the tank and drive off before anyone in my family can stop me.
And for the first time in my life, I don’t feel like a princess.
I don’t feel like a villain.
I feel like me. A woman in seek of a man.
I smirk, staring into my rearview mirror without seeing a security team following me. A first.
I’m free.
This bar is loud, stingy, and smells like sweat. I love it.
I can’t stop smiling as I slowly make my way through the crowd, trying to find the bar so I can order a drink. I’ve been elbowed in the face, shoved, and had my foot stepped on. Not once did anyone apologize or cower and bow after possibly hurting a Carini. No one has run away scared I’m going to have my brothers hunt them down and shoot them for hurting me.
I’m just me.
I make it to the bar, but not without some serious effort. And when I lean against the bar and raise my hand to get the bartender’s attention, nothing happens.
He doesn’t even glance my way over the throng of people.
“Hey, I would love to order a drink!” I holler down the long bar, which should only hold about a dozen people, but has at least three times as many crowded around it now.
I frown when nothing happens.
“Hey!” I shout again. My voice can be loud when I want it to be, but apparently, it’s not enough to grab anyone’s attention.
I hear a deep chuckle, and I turn to give the man my best side-eye stare.
“You don’t come here often, do you?” the man asks me.
I look him up and down. He seems my age, or at least close enough. He’s not dressed up at all. He’s wearing jeans with holes in them, tennis shoes, and a dark grey T-shirt. He didn’t even bother shaving. His dark hair covers his chin and neck, making his sparkly white teeth shine even brighter when he smiles.
I try to contain my grin. I don’t want him to think I’m too anxious, but he’s exactly what I’m looking for. He doesn’t come from my world of fancy balls, thrown to hide the murders and evil occurring behind the scenes.
“You caught me. I’m not from this town. How do you get the bartender’s attention?” I ask, giving him a tiny smile and turning entirely to face him.
His eyes drop down to my impressive cleavage. He swallows hard and shifts his legs back and forth, most likely trying to hide the jaw-dropping bulge straining in his pants.
“Like this,” he pulls out a wad of cash, holds it out, and whistles loudly. The bartender turns and glides down the bar to the mysterious man who holds out the stack of twenties. The bartender takes it, pockets the large wad of cash, and then places two bottles of beer in front of us.
The man winces. “You probably aren’t a beer drinker, are you? I could get you something fancier than a beer, but it’s going to take a while. All the bartender will do quickly is get you bottles of beer.”
I eye the bottle and pick it up. I rarely have a beer, and never out of a bottle, always a glass. But tonight, I’m not a princess. That girl is gone. Tonight, I’m wild, adventurous, and going to go home with this man who keeps eyeing me like he wants to take me to the bathroom and fuck me.
I drink from the bottle, and the man grins like he’s just won the biggest prize.
“I’m Roman Alfonso,” he says.
“I’m Gia,” I say, leaving off my last name intentionally.
“Well, Gia with no last name. I would love to dance with you.”
I look out at the crowd of people smashed together. That doesn’t look like dancing to me. They press against each other, but are barely moving anything except their hips as they grind into each other.
“Or, I could take you back to my place, and we could talk. I’d love to learn more about you somewhere where we can actually listen to each other talk,” Roman says.
I’m not naive. I know what he means when he says ‘talk.’ He doesn’t mean talk. He means fuck. And I know whatever electricity pulsing between us isn’t a love attraction. It’s lust.
But I can’t ignore the way he looks at me. The way his grin softens when I return his stare. The way his hand brushes against mine, and I feel a jolt of emotion rush through me.
This may not be the man I’m going to marry, but he might be the first man I’m with who doesn’t treat me like a princess. He can fuck me, leave me, and rip out my heart as any normal man would.
Roman could be the first guy who treats me like a one-night stand, instead of royalty. I want a man to help me escape my atypical world. But I could use sex with a normal guy. The last man I was with was selling weapons to Matteo. I’m tired of dangerous men.
“I live three blocks from here.”
I grin and chug my beer. “Your place sounds perfect."
Roman’s place is anything but perfect. It’s tiny. It’s messy. And it has a weird smell, a mix of burnt coffee and old pizza.
“You’re beautiful, Gia. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
I roll my eyes. “How many times have you used that line?”
He chuckles. “A few times, but I’ve never meant it like I do right now.”
His eyes twinkle when he talks. I like it.
He takes my hand and leads me toward his kitchen containing two cupboards and enough counter space to fit a single plate.
He pulls two beers out of the refrigerator and hands one to me, after popping the top off on a bottle opener stuck to the fridge.
“Thanks.”
“So where are you from, beautiful?”
I narrow my eyes as I drink. “We don’t have to do this. You don’t care where I’m from or what I do for a living or where I went to school. You want in my pants, and that’s it. So let’s not pretend you are this perfect gentleman and get to the sex part.”
He smirks as he leans against the counter not more than a foot from me. He cocks his head lazily to one side like he’s studying me.
“What if I want more?”
My heart catches. Stupi
d heart. He doesn’t want more. It’s just another line.
“You don’t know anything about me. How could you know if you want more or not?”
He licks his lips, and I can’t stop staring. I want his lips kissing me. I want more than a kiss. I want it all with him. I want the fairy tale. I know all I’m feeling is lust. This isn’t real. I don’t know this man. But yet, he’s perfect.
Roman reaches out and touches my flowing hair gently. “How could any man, not want you? I wasn’t lying when I said you were gorgeous. You are the most beautiful fucking woman I’ve ever seen. I saw you from the moment you entered that bar, and I followed you. I didn’t even need another drink. I was already drinking. I was dancing with a blonde bombshell, but she had nothing on you. I had to talk to you. See you. I couldn’t explain it.
“You have a smart mouth. No other woman I’ve been with has called me a liar for saying that line.”
My lips fall open as I listen to his every word.
“I’m not like most women.”
He stares at me with seriousness in his eyes. “You aren’t like most women. You’re special.”
I bite my lip, trying to control myself. But I want to throw my arms around him, kiss him, and tell him I’ll marry him and have his babies all in the same breath. I don’t understand what’s happening. Every word he speaks is dripping with sex. His eyes are oozing with sincerity.
I know I shouldn’t believe a word he is saying. It’s all an act. He says this and does this with every woman he brings home to get them into bed with him. Tomorrow, he’ll flip. He’ll be an ass who doesn’t even makes me coffee before he sends me home in a cab.
I can’t stop myself though from falling instantly in love with Roman. Maybe it’s the freedom he represents, but I want everything with him. I should walk away now. But I can’t. My feet are cemented to the floor.
I can’t move.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t think.
I’m lost in Roman.
“I want you Gia. So fucking badly. In my bed. As my girlfriend. As my wife.”
My eyes shoot wide. What the hell is he talking about?
“I know who you are, Gia. Jeans and a tank top can’t hide who you are.”
Fuck.
“You’re Gia Carini.”
I nod.
“And I’ve never wanted a woman more. You’re beautiful, royal, and powerful.”
I bite my lip again as he grabs my neck and pulls me into a kiss. I’m lost forever as his tongue brushes against mine. I’ve never been kissed this hard or this passionately before. I’ve never been wanted. Not for being a monster.
Because that’s what I am, a monster. I may pretend I’m a princess who hides away in a tower and has no control over my life or what my family does, but it isn’t true. I have power. I could change my life if I wanted to. Stop participating in the evil my family partakes in.
I’m a Carini though. Carinis are powerful, dark creatures, incapable of real love.
Roman knows who I am. I don’t know how, and I don’t care. He wants me as I am. And I plan on giving him everything I have. The light, the darkness. My heart, and soul. And maybe with him, I’ll find a way to be the real Gia Carini. The one I’ve kept hidden beneath the pretty dresses. With Roman, I can learn to love.
1
Gia
Months Later
* * *
I sold you.
Roman’s words play over and over in my head.
The light trickles in, striking my face, so all I can see is the light. I can’t see the arch of the doorway overhead made of dark gray marble stone. I can’t see the sharp edge of the windows next to me that open up the living room to the garden below. I can’t see the beauty of the green oak trees that have been here for hundreds of years, the only things on this property entirely untouched by darkness.
All I can see is the weak shit standing in front of me. Asshole, cunt, manwhore, gold-digger, scum of the earth, piece of shit… Words keep coming, but they make no difference. I can call Roman whatever I want in my head, but it doesn’t stop what’s happening. And I won’t give him the satisfaction of seeing my anger.
Roman doesn’t get to see my pain. My regret. Or my anger.
He means nothing to me.
He used to be my entire world.
Now, he’s nothing.
I sold you.
Roman was the one. He’s sexy, charming, and despite how he dresses, he owns a string of wineries. He has money, not Carini level money, but he isn’t poor. I thought he loved me. I thought I was special. I thought I was his everything.
He fucked it up once.
I thought today was about fixing his mistake.
Instead, he’s fucking my life up forever.
I shield my eyes, as I see the men approaching me. I stand stoically because I know there is nothing else to do at the moment. Running is useless, I’ll just end up hurt. I’ve seen it happen to too many women before.
I will look for an opportunity to escape once they have me, but I know that won’t be more useful. In this world, there is no escaping. Even Nina and Eden didn’t escape. They remained. They just changed their circumstances in their favor until this world no longer terrified them.
My only hope is that Matteo and Arlo save me. That they realize I’m gone and still have enough power in this world to save me. If they can’t, I’m as good as dead.
I feel the cold, rough hands on my arms as they are jerked backward.
I sold you.
Roman’s words play again.
I should focus on the men tying rope around my wrists. I need to learn as much about them as I can. Find their weaknesses. Study their faces so when I’m free, I can come back and get my revenge. But I can’t focus on anyone but Roman.
Roman stands stoically as he watches the men tighten the rope around my wrists. He seems pleased with himself. His lips curl up into a wicked grin, while his eyes deepen with a mix of lust and greed, watching me lose my freedom. He thinks he’s won. But the war has only just begun. He may have won the battle, but the war is long. Carini’s hold grudges, and we always get our revenge in the end.
I smirk.
“Happy to be taken? Oh, that’s right. You are desperate for a man’s attention. Any man. Even a demon like Dante.”
Dante. That’s the first time my captor has been mentioned. It doesn’t ring any bells. He didn’t run in our immediate circle of friends.
I continue smirking, shaking my head. “I’m not smiling. I’m smirking. You think you’ve won, but you forget that I’m a Carini. My days aren’t numbered, but yours are.”
Roman narrows his eyes at me and laughs, glancing at the men holding onto my arms. Arms that are now firmly tied behind my back. I pull at the rope, and I know there is no way my hands will break free.
“I don’t think so. You are the one whose days are numbered. I’d bet good money you don’t survive the week where you are going. I not only made sure to get the highest price for you, but I made sure you went to the most ruthless owner in all of Italy. Dante Russo will beat you, rape you, and kill you when he realizes how ordinary you are. You have no fight in you. Your brothers will quickly forget about you. No one will save you. And when you are dead, no one will come after me.”
I search his eyes, and I find exactly what I would expect from scum like him.
“Then why is there fear in your eyes?”
Roman clears his throat and then walks toward me. “If there is any fear in my eyes, it’s simply the reflection of your own.”
I spit in his face.
My head whips to the side as I feel the sting of the slap against my cheek. I take a deep slow breath as the bite spreads across my cheek and to my eye.
I will not cry.
I will not show anger.
I will not show my pain.
Roman will get nothing from me.
I slowly turn my head back. I can’t stop my hand from reaching instinctively to calm my chee
k, which is no doubt turning redder as the seconds pass. The ropes stop me before I remember my hands are tied behind my back.
Roman’s jaw spasms as he notices my hands squirming against the ropes. I know the rope is digging into my delicate skin, and will undoubtedly leave a burn in its wake, but I can’t stop fighting against it. Not now that Roman has me so worked up.
He takes a step back, while the men hold me back. One of the men’s hands clenches my arm so roughly the pain pulls my attention away for a second from Roman. I feel the nails digging into my flesh, and I want to cry out in pain. Tell him to stop, but I don’t.
Instead, I keep all my wrath for Roman. Giving him my full attention assures him I will come after him. I will watch the whites leave his eyes as he slowly slips away from this earth to hell. Everything that happens to me from this point forward is because of Roman. And I will make him hurt for every prickle of pain I endure.
“Everything going okay in here?” a man says from behind Roman.
I force my eyes away from the snake before me and stare at the man who just entered. Clive is standing in the entryway with a cup of coffee in his hand, like this is a typical morning. Erick enters behind him, and he smirks at me.
“Yes, just about to have the garbage taken out,” Roman answers.
I snarl. I can’t help it. At this point, I want the men holding onto me to drag me out, so I don’t have to look at Roman for another second.
Clive stands with a raised eyebrow, no doubt waiting for me to beg him to rescue me. He’ll be waiting forever. I will never ask for his help. Matteo may have been willing to ask for his help to save Eden and kill my father, but I’m not willing to ask this slime for help. The cost would be too high. Matteo had to give up everything he worked for to get Eden. If I asked for Clive’s help, I would merely be trading my life from Dante to Clive. I still wouldn’t be free.