by Deja Voss
“It’s not even three in the morning, Serafin,” she says, patting the bed next to her.
“I gotta get some of this out of me,” I say. I don’t know what “this” is, grief, anger, confusion, shock, numbness… running until my lungs burn seems like the best solution.
“I understand,” she says with a sad smile. “I’ll keep the sheets warm for you.”
I pull the covers up over her, and she closes her eyes. I know most of my mother’s nights were spent like this, tossing and turning and worrying about what was going on in my father’s mind. I don’t ever want Mia to have to feel that discomfort. I want her to be able to sleep soundly, knowing everything I do is for her.
I don’t care what it takes. I never want her to have to live through what my mother felt. I don’t ever want her to have to phone in her love for me, or force herself to make it work because that’s what society wants. I want to fill her with as many babies as she wants, but I don’t want that to be the only thing she has to live for.
I walk down the hallway, leaving the door open just a crack, and my heart shatters in a million pieces when I hear her feint sobs.
23
Mia:
I feel like complete garbage and I’m sure I don’t look any better. Jakub gave me the rest of the week off from the agency, but I had to get out of the house for a little bit. I’ve been doing whatever I can to help Serafin make funeral arrangements, but I can’t stop thinking about that conversation I had with his mother.
I know how much he loves her and how much he’s going to miss her, but with every passing hour, I hate her more and more. Instead of making things right with her son before she passed away, she pinned this ugly secret on me. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. I can’t even have a conversation with him without getting my words all mixed up.
He’s out of it now, thanks to the never ending parade of guests coming to the house to pay their condolences with shots of scotch, but soon he’ll be sober. Soon I’ll have to confront him.
I can’t hide out in the studio forever, staring at a blank canvas and chain smoking. The doorbells jingle, and I tuck my hair up into a bun, snub out my cigarette, and try and contort my face into some other expression than deer in headlights. It’s probably him, and he’ll probably want to take me to lunch, take me to the museum, take me to a movie, fly me to Paris, and I’ll have to make up some excuse why I can’t be alone with him right now.
I made a promise that after the funeral, I’ll tell him everything I know, but as much as I can’t stand that woman, I’m not going to disgrace her life with drama. I’m above that. She’s gone now, and I’m not going to let her ruin the rest of our life together.
To my surprise, the shouts echoing off the wall are Fabian’s. “Mia, are you here?”
I go out into the main room where all my paintings are displayed, and the blinding light coming through the huge windows makes me squint my eyes shut.
“Serafin will probably kick my ass for saying this… but… you look pretty rough, love.”
“If I look half as bad as I feel, I’m probably a horror show,” I say.
He hugs me like an old friend, and I guess at the end of the day, he is. I’ve known him as long as I’ve known Serafin, even though we never were as close. He’s really grown on me in the last few weeks, mostly because I know how much he loves Serafin. He’d do anything for him.
He’d want to know the truth.
“What brings you here?” I ask.
Before I can say another word, in strolls Phillip the rockstar, a cavalry of strangely dressed women who look way too young to be running around with a thirty year old man straggling behind him.
“Babysitting duty,” he mutters under his breath. “He’s been sitting outside in his car for the last hour. I wasn’t sure if he was planning on harassing you or grabbing lunch next door, but I figured I’d stick around until that weirdo figured it out.”
“Phillip, it’s not every day a rockstar comes into my gallery,” I say, trying to put on my happy face. If the man wants to spend money, I’m not going to turn him down. Sadly, I have a feeling that’s not what he’s here for.
“I just wanted to drop by and offer my condolences,” he says, reaching his arms out to hug me. I roll my eyes hard over my shoulder at Fabian.
“Well, you should be offering them to Serafin,” I say, pulling away. “It was his mother who passed. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
Or he’ll be glad to have something to kick repeatedly other than his punching bag.
Fabian paces around casually, pretending like he’s really interested in one of my paintings, but I’m thankful he’s within earshot. There’s been rumors circling around the tabloids about Philip lately, that he’s been soliciting women to drink their blood amongst other gory fetishes. Jakub isn’t thrilled with it, but without solid proof, there’s nothing he can do but put the Kings on him to keep watch.
I hardly believe this freak wants to play vampire with me, knowing who I’m engaged to, but for some reason, he just won’t leave me alone.
“Actually, the real reason I’m here is because I haven’t heard from your friend Janka in awhile.”
I nearly snort. “She’s not my friend. I haven’t spoken with her in months, Phillip. You’re probably better off talking to the police. They’ve been looking for her, too.”
“If you hear from her will you please call me?” he asks. “It’s very important.” He slips me a business card, and I nod and stuff it in my pocket. I’ll wait til he leaves to toss it in the trash. “I know you’re following me, Fabian,” he says on his way out the door.
“Freak,” Fabian mutters as the door swings closed behind him. “You really do need to get some better security in this place, though. I don’t like you in that back room with anybody being able to walk right in.”
“Yeah, we were supposed to do that this week… but with the funeral and everything…”
“How’s he holding up? I stopped by a couple times but that place is like a revolving door.”
“Don’t I know it,” I say with a laugh, blowing my bangs out of my face. “Did you know Mrs. Mazur very well?”
“Our mothers were friends. All of our parents were. It’s funny, though, even though we’re all grown now and we took over the family business, I still feel like I don’t really know who my parents are. There’s so much that happened behind closed doors that we never saw, which is understandable considering the nature of the business.”
“Did they ever talk about the Cammaranos?” I ask.
He looks at me and shakes his head. “It’s a shame what they did to Serafin. I wasn’t old enough at the time to get in on the action, but I know the war that followed was bloody. A lot of men lost their lives. Ultimately, we took over their territory, but I know that shit wasn’t pretty.”
I gulp back the lump in my throat, knowing I need to make right on my promise to Mrs. Mazur, even though Fabian isn’t the person I’m supposed to be saying this to. “When I talked to Serafin’s mom yesterday, she told me it was an inside job. She told me Serafin’s father wanted to start a war, so he used him as bait. I don’t know what to do, Fabian.”
He slaps his hand over his mouth and paces nervously across the room towards me.
“Why the fuck would she tell you that?” he growls.
I take a step back and put my hands in the air. He covers his face with his hands and drops his head, breathing in and out heavily like he’s hyperventilating.
“Maybe it was just whatever medications she was on. Maybe they were messing with her brain. I haven’t said anything to Serafin yet. I didn’t want to bring it up until he had a chance to say his goodbyes.”
“Mia, this needs to be taken care of now.” He lifts his head and looks me in the eye. “I know my father had his suspicions. He was always very cautious when it came to the Mazurs.”
He takes my hands in his. “I believe you, and I believe what she said is true.” His hands are shaking and he ha
ngs his head.
“He’s going to hate me, Fabian. He’s never going to believe me. Those were his parents.”
“I promise I’ll back you up. You have to tell him. It has to come from you,” he pleads. “Hasn’t he been through enough?”
I bite my lip and sigh. Keeping this information from him isn’t kind. It’s not the kind of woman I want to be. It’s not what I want our relationship to be built on, deception and secrets. I know I owe it to him.
“I need to talk to my father,” Fabian says. “This is something that needs to be dealt with by all the Kings.”
I wrinkle my nose and take a deep breath. Serafin has given me everything. A home. True love. A second chance. What he needs from me now is the truth, even if it hurts him.
24
Serafin:
“Would you like me to bring you some aspirin?” Maria says softly, standing in the archway of the living room. I have the blinds pulled down but it doesn’t stop this one obnoxious sunbeam from beaming right onto my face.
We were supposed to be picking out wedding flowers, and now my entire house is filled with the nauseating smell of Krakow’s finest floral arrangements for my mother’s funeral. At least I can blame my swollen eyes on that and not the crying and the drinking.
I pull a blanket up over my head and shift on the leather couch. It’s not even remotely comfortable, but I’m too exhausted to climb the stairs to the bedroom.
“I’ll be fine,” I say from under the blanket. “Just, if you run into Mia, tell her to come talk to me.”
It’s not that she’s been distant lately, she’s been right by my side through all the arrangements, all the visits from random cousins and old cohorts coming out of the woodwork to pay their respects to my mother. Physically she’s been close to me.
But mentally, I feel like something is off. She’s barely talking. She isn’t eating. She’s like a zombie. When she wanted to go to the studio today to blow off some steam, I breathed a sigh of relief. I know she’s just trying to be supportive, but that’s not my mouse. That’s a dormouse, hiding behind me, too meek and timid to make a squeak.
I don’t ever want her to feel like she has to hide.
Maria leaves and I shift on the couch. I can’t tell if I’m hungover or drunk or somewhere in between. I can’t think of anything that would make me feel better right now except Mia’s laugh, Mia’s touch, Mia rolling her eyes at my stupid jokes.
Like an angel, she walks into the room. She walks over to the couch and drops down to the floor next to me, cradling me in her arms, resting her head on my chest. I run my fingers through her silky hair, and instantly I feel immediately lighter.
“What else needs done today?” she asks.
“Relax. Everything is done.”
“Are you alright?”
I kiss her forehead and breathe in her smell. “I am now.”
Before I can pull her up on the couch next to me, she starts to sob. Not full on bawling, but these muted little mewls that tug at the strings of my heart one by one. I’ve never heard her cry like that before, but it hurts down into my bones.
“Things are gonna get better, mouse. I promise. My mom is in a better place now. She doesn’t have to fight anymore.”
She won’t quit crying, no matter how hard I hug her, no matter how much I kiss her. I get this feeling that whatever she’s upset about is somehow worse than grieving a death. She barely even knew my mom, and what interaction she had wasn’t good, at least, not until recently.
“I have to tell you something,” she says, her voice hoarse. “I don’t know how you’re going to take it, but I have to tell you.”
“You can tell me anything. I promise. I’m here for you. Nothing you tell me is going to upset me. I will always love you.” I know those are generally just lies we tell ourselves and the people we care about when shit is about to hit the fan, but I know in my heart there’s nothing to worry about. I know more than anything she’s eternally mine.
She kneels in front of me and wipes the tears from her eyes, taking a deep breath and fanning her face.
“Your mother told me some things that day before she passed,” she says. I can tell she’s trying to blink back tears.
“You know what my family does, Mia. You know what kind of man you’re marrying. You’ve known your whole life.”
She shakes her head. “You weren’t attacked by the Cammaranos,” she blurts out. “The reason why your parents were in such a hurry to get rid of me is they thought I might have witnessed something.”
I sit bolt upright on the couch, clutching my head in my hands, trying to piece together whatever she’s trying to tell me.
“I didn’t want to tell you this, but Fabian thought it was best you heard it from me.”
“You told Fabian before me?” I growl.
“Under any other circumstances, I would’ve come to you first. I didn’t think it was right for you to have to grieve your dead mother and find out she’s a monster on the same day. She sent the last twelve years covering for your father, a man who wanted to start a turf war so badly he almost had you killed. He hired some thugs to make it look like the Cammaranos waged an attack, and he dragged everyone you love into war over it.”
My heart starts to race and my head feels like it’s about to explode. I gasp for air, but my chest is tight.
“My mother told you all that?”
“I’m sorry, Serafin. I didn’t know what to do. Please, don’t be mad at me.” She puts up her hands defensively like I’m about to hit her. She’s shaking like a fucking leaf, and I don’t know what pisses me off more, the story she just told me or the fact that she thinks I’d ever lay a hand on her.
“I’m not my father. I’m not your ex husband. If you don’t know that by now, maybe you can go talk to Fabian about it.”
I get up from the couch and storm out the front door, my thoughts spinning wildly in my mind. My father was a brutal man who always got his own way, and the war with the Cammaranos was hard fought. When I got out of the hospital, half of the men who worked for the Kings were dead or seriously injured. We ultimately won, but the damage it did to the organization and so many families is still felt today.
Still feeling it now.
There was nothing I could do to stop it, because I was the catalyst, a weight I still have to shoulder. The smell of funeral flowers won’t leave me, and I puke all over the driveway, the taste of acidic blood and stale scotch burning in the back of my throat.
Indirectly, I’m responsible for all of this.
And now, the only person I care about, the only person who ever truly gave a fuck about me is afraid I’m going to take it out on her.
I’m a fucking monster. I’m worse than her ex. At least he wore his heart on his sleeve and she knew exactly what he was getting into.
She thinks I’m just a walking time bomb. She thinks I’m no better than the family I was born into. She thinks I’m about to explode at any minute and hurt somebody.
And right this instant, I’m not sure she’s exactly wrong.
25
Mia:
That went about exactly as I expected it to.
I feel like complete shit, laying here on the floor crying into a blanket as I hear his car speed off. I feel like the worst fiancé in the world for letting him leave after that conversation, but what else is there to say?
I knew the instant I put my hands up to my face I made a grave mistake, but that had nothing to do with him, just my natural conditioning thanks to Bartek. That hurt look I saw tonight was worse than the night he was attacked. Worse than when he found out his mother passed.
Even worse than when I told him his parents were in on it the whole time.
I push myself up off of the floor. This big house filled with funeral flowers is suddenly so unwelcoming. I’m like a stain on the curtains, just hanging out until I’m irritating enough to make someone want to do something about it.
I’m useless. I’m just as helpless as th
e day he met me. Just as helpless as the day he brought me here. I wish I would’ve just stuck to the contract and stayed far away from him.
I go upstairs to our bedroom and stuff a bag with some clothes. I look at my engagement ring one last time, slipping it off and setting it on his nightstand. I’ll never be able to look at that thing without remembering how good I had it. It would serve as a constant reminder of the fact that I don’t deserve it. It’s just a hunk of metal, but to me, it would always be a sad reminder at how badly I ruin everything I touch.
Serafin’s trust, however… that is everything.
I betrayed him by trying to keep him safe, over and over again. All the man really needed was a person to be honest with him, a person who he could rely on to be upfront with him, for better or for worse.
And I betrayed that. Over and over again. I tried to build our relationship on lies even when he brought out the best in me. Over and over again.
I tiptoe down the steps, choking back tears, hoping I don’t run into anyone on my way out the door. Even just seeing Maria would send me into a spiral. This place is the closest thing I’ve ever had to a home in my whole life, but I’ve overstayed my welcome.
I walk out the front door, shutting it as softly as possible behind me. The cool night air stings the tears on my face, but my body is burning up hot. I walk down the long tree-lined driveway, not really sure where I’ll go. Maybe I’ll stay for awhile with my parents. They’ll probably put me in the goat pen, but maybe that’s exactly where I belong.
Headlights shine up the pavement, and I jump over into the bushes, crouching down. My heart beats fast in my chest, and I take a few deep breaths.
You can’t leave him like this.
You can’t just walk out and leave.
I’ve spent my whole adult life walking out on things that are important to me because I didn’t want to deal with the consequences. I let Serafin’s parents run me out of town. I left my paintings, my reputation, and my belongings behind because I didn’t want to have to stand up for myself. I completely abandoned my morals because I thought Janka could solve all my problems. I lost myself so many times, I forgot who I was.