"One more time then. I looooove you," I profess in a singsong voice, prompting him to giggle some more.
"What the fuck is this?" I look up and I'm met by Enzo's stern features as he takes in the scene before him.
"Luca, go to your room," his voice booms, and Luca flinches, burrowing a little closer in my arms.
"You shouldn't speak like that to him," I find my voice, even though inside I'm terrified of what's going to happen.
I'd been so happy to be near Luca that I hadn't thought about everything thoroughly. Like what would happen if Enzo caught me.
"So now I'm taking lessons from you on how to raise my child?" His voice is filled with anger and disgust and I can't help but shiver from the venom sent my way even though I know I'm not technically the designated recipient.
"Luca," I stroke his hair, dropping my voice so only he can hear me, "do what your father says. We'll play later," I assure him, and his mossy green eyes turn towards me, looking at me almost questioningly, uncertainty written in the way his brow moves up and down. My heart breaks at the thought of betraying the fragile trust we'd built over the last few weeks.
"It's ok," I assure him again, and with a nod he gets up. He stops briefly in front of his father and they have some words before Luca runs towards the house.
"And you..." he shakes his head at me, his nose turned up in distaste, "I never thought you'd stoop so low."
Grabbing my wrist, he forces me to my feet, dragging me towards the house.
"Where are you taking me?"
"We need to have a discussion, you and I, and I don't want anyone to witness what it might degenerate into," he says, his mouth twisted in a cruel smile. His fingers are digging into my skin, his hold carelessly painful.
"Let go," I shake my hand, trying to get him to release me, "you're hurting me," I whine in an attempt to emulate Chiara.
I can't forget that he thinks I'm my sister.
"And I'll do much worse," he mentions, and we pass the entrance as he takes me to his office, locking both of us inside.
Shit! I need to do something about this.
A small bubble of panic erupts inside of me as I think of any way to get out of this. I can't have him find out about me, not when I've worked so hard until now to craft my plans carefully.
I've been foolish, I know I have, my greedy heart being unable to stay away from Luca. And so I'd risked everything — including my revenge.
But because he is my reason for everything I'm doing, I can't give it up. Soon, he'll be mine — just mine, and we'll go far away from this godforsaken place.
When we get inside, Enzo shoves me to the ground, and I barely manage to cushion my fall.
"What's wrong with you?" I ask, amazed at this display of cruelty. My eyes take him in, so dashing but so dangerous. The tick in his jaw tells me he's one second away from blowing up.
"What's wrong with me?" His voice sounds incredulous. "I thought I told you once that if I ever see you near Luca again I'm going to blow your fucking brains, didn't I?" He doesn't waste any time in unholstering his gun and shoving it between my eyes.
I'm frozen on the spot, terrified that one wrong move is going to lead to my premature demise.
"I was just helping him. I thought he'd fallen, and I was afraid you'd get angry if something happened to him while I was at home," I lie, inventing the excuse and hoping he'd buy it.
"You? Helping him?" He scoffs at me, the gun digging even more in my skin. Self-preservation kicking in, I try not to focus on the barrel of steel currently nestled between my eyes. Instead, I look him straight in the eyes, improvising.
Think... Act like Chiara would.
"I can be human too," I trail off, "sometimes," I add for good measure. "He's still my blood, isn't he? And the future of this family."
Yes, that's it. Mercenary... My sister is completely mercenary.
"Is that so?" He's still unconvinced as he stares at me, his eyes hard and unyielding.
"What do I stand to gain if something happens to him?" I quip, hoping I'm right and that Chiara would never do anything to Luca.
"Indeed," his hand relaxes a little on his gun, but his eyes are still skeptical.
Putting on yet another show, I lift my hands up, reaching for his belt.
"I can suck you off if you let me go," I drawl on a seductive tone. His features draw up in disgust and he quickly puts distance between us.
"Fuck off," he curses, "don't tell me you've run out of dick?"
I breathe out, relieved the gun is no longer in my face. The fact that he's so clearly repulsed by my sister somehow makes my stomach do a somersault, an unwelcome pleasure filling me on the inside.
No! I can't let myself warm up to him!
"If that's all," I shrug, righting my shirt over my jeans and making to leave.
"No," he calls out, already settled at his study. "One more thing," he starts, his eyes scanning me from top to bottom. "make sure your parents are coming to the ball. Our family needs to be united in times like these, no?" He asks sardonically, and I just raise an eyebrow at him.
"Whatever you desire, your highness," I automatically respond, feigning a curtsy. Exiting the room, I all but run outside, the need to be as far away from him burning at me.
Why?
Why am I still so weak when it comes to him? You'd think that with all the evidence I have of his betrayal — photographic evidence at that — I'd be a little more steady in my disdain towards him.
There's a fine line between love and hate.
And I'm still teetering on that razor-thin boundary between them, unable to firmly commit to either side.
Am I really bound to be a pathetic bitch for my entire life? Just because he was the first hand to feed me do I have to keep on running back for more even when he hits where it hurts the most?
I wish there were an answer to this. A way to simply turn off the love so I could only focus on the hate.
"HURRY," I SAY AS I pry the jeans off my legs so I can put on the pajamas. Lia is holding the blouse over my head and I quickly slide my hands through it as she pulls it down.
"He didn't tell me he was going to come today," a frown of consternation appears on her face as she helps me into the bed, hooking my finger to the machine and arranging things around me so that everything is flawless.
Enzo usually calls ahead to inform Lia when to expect him, but this time we had to hear from Fred, one of Lia's friends from security, who just gave her a heads up.
"Doesn't matter, we're fine," I say quickly, knowing he's going to come any second. "Just calm down, Lia." I say and a moment later the door opens.
I promptly squeeze my eyes shut, willing my body to relax. The beeping from my pulse is not helping as I hear Enzo step inside.
"You didn't call, Signor," Lia starts, sounding a little agitated.
Damn it, Lia! Act natural!
"I have a flight tomorrow and I wanted to see her before I left." His deep voice resounds in the room. Deprived of my sight, I can only rely on my hearing and I hone in on the cadence of his tone. "Any change?" He asks as he pulls the chair next to me, his hand brushing mine.
"Same as always," Lia says.
"Leave us," he decrees, leaving no room for discussion. There's some shifting in the room before I hear the door close.
"Little tigress," he starts, lifting my hand to his mouth. I hold still even though a shiver goes down my spine at the pet name, and the fact that he's touching me so tenderly. "It's getting harder and harder to be away from you," his lips brush back and forth against the back of my hand, his warm breath tantalizing my senses. Goosebumps spread all over my skin. I hope he doesn't realize the change, or the fact that I tremble slightly every time he brushes his thumb over my wrist.
Why does he have to be so seductive? So magnetic?
"Every year I hope it's going to be the last and you're finally going to wake up. But..." he pauses, and a liquid trickles down my hand. It takes me a moment to realize it's
tears, as muffled sounds accompanied the wetness.
He's... crying? For me?
He comes to visit weekly, but until now he's only talked to me about Luca — he'd tell me about his hobbies, how he's really enjoying his piano lessons and how his first small show had been a success. His conversations had never touched on anything sensitive, and I'd been grateful for it. Most of all I'd been happy to hear more about my baby boy — details that otherwise I would have never known.
"Do you know, when I thought your sister had killed you, I'd been ready to obliterate every one of them. I had my gun loaded and wouldn't have hesitated to create a blood bath. Worse than anything is that..." another pause as he takes a deep breath, the back of my hand against his wet cheek, "if it hadn't been for Luca I would have killed myself too." the words are soft, barely above a whisper.
My heart stops in my chest, his words hitting me so hard I almost gasp out loud. But I hold it all in.
"In that moment all I saw was vengeance. Because they had taken you from me before I managed to show you just how much you mean to me." He squeezes my hand, his voice almost broken as he continues. "And sometimes, like today, I ask myself if any of this is worth it... if..." His throat clogs up, and so does mine as my eyes get moist behind my lids, "if you never wake up. What am I going to do if you never wake up?"
"And so I thought about something. When Luca is old enough to move out on his own, I can join you."
It takes everything inside me not to react to that statement, but when he starts going into detail about his plans, including the venues he's chosen where we can be together for ever — cryogenic sleep he calls it — my heart starts beating out of control.
The beeps on the monitor reflect the sudden change, the sounds become shorter in interval.
"Tigress," he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, incredulity dripping from that one word.
He must have noticed my heartbeat as well.
Damn it!
But how am I supposed not to react when he's saying things like that?
"You can hear me?" his voice is so soft, his breath fanning over my skin as he starts kissing at my pulse point.
Did he have to go for that spot? Damn, it's getting a little hot in here.
I don't reply, emptying my mind and trying to calm my erratic heart.
"God, if you can hear me, please come back to me. I'll do anything you want; I swear. I'll never kill another person in my life if that's what you want. We can move somewhere else. Anything, little tigress. Just please come back to me."
His pained cry touches me deep in my soul, and I don't know how I manage to keep it together. He continues to talk to me about this perfect life that we'd have together with Luca and other children, about how he'd never upset me again.
And I waver.
There's such sincerity in his voice, such emotive candor that I barely restrain myself from jumping out of bed and into his arms.
But that would be weak.
How many times have I given in to him before? Only to be disappointed again and again?
The perfect life he so fondly talks about would be just an illusion. One that would eventually shatter and I'd be left like before — battered and bleeding and picking up the pieces of my broken heart.
This resolve is the only thing that helps block out everything — even the sweet kiss he lays on my lips as he stands up to leave.
"What happened," Lia bursts through the door a while later.
Moving to a standing position, I wipe my eyes, dabbing at the small trickle of moisture that made its way down my cheeks.
"Signor looked so bad. Did he say anything? What happened?" She continues to probe, but I just shake my head.
"Nothing," I wave my hand dismissively. "Let's start planning."
Enzo can wait.
My family cannot.
"CAN YOU CHECK THE BACK?" I pull the wig down my forehead, adjusting the hairline.
"It's done," Lia says as she swoops the curls aside to check if it's secured in place.
Tonight is the ball Enzo had talked about, and to my great surprise, it's a masquerade. That means no one will know who I am, and I can blend in among the guests. And if what he's said about my parents being present is right... then I think it's the perfect opportunity to have a tête-à-tête with my progenitors.
I'd gone through a lot of trouble to make sure no one will be able to see through my disguise. My entire face is covered in make-up, and Lia had helped me book an appointment with a professional. The make-up artist had given me cheek and jaw definition so that when I finally don my face mask, I don't look like myself at all.
Made entirely of black lace, the mask is malleable and fits perfectly to the upper half of my face, protecting my identity. I'd also put on a pair of blue contacts, for good measure.
"If I didn't know it was you..." Lia trails off, her eyes going down my rather scandalous gown — a black Lolita dress. A corset cinches in my waist and pushes my boobs up, with the skirt barely covering my ass.
No one would ever believe that boring old Allegra would wear anything like this. It's much more indicative of Chiara's wardrobe. But for this event I have to be as unlikely me as I can.
Because I can't have anything incriminating me.
Adding some small tools to a simple black pouch, I get ready to leave.
"You're sure about this, Miss? You can still back off... let it go," Lia tells me as I head towards the door. I know she means well, and because she has such a pure heart she cannot comprehend that there's a boiling need in my veins to see justice done. I don't think I'll ever be able to forgive anyone and still look at myself in the mirror.
All my life I've endured people's scorn thinking that maybe, there was something lacking about me that brought the worst in others. Maybe I was someone that provoked only disdain. And I'd been fine with just keeping away, remaining in my own world and ignoring the barbs around me. And probably, if it had still been just me, I would have continued that way.
But they involved my son in this, and that I will never forgive.
I still remember the moment of his birth, or the days I'd held him to my chest, whispering sweet words to him and imagining the future. For once I'd been optimistic about my own fate. I was simply looking forward to living — see my baby's first steps or hear his first words. These milestones seemed so easy at the time, so innocent.
But here I am. Five years later and I have none of that. They stole five years of my child's life and for that, they will pay.
"I'll be fine," I tell her curtly, signaling that there's no going back.
Soon, I find myself passing through the gates of the house, and stepping into the lively atmosphere. All around me everyone is wearing a mask, some even opting for complete costumes.
I spot pirates, fairies, and vampires.
Maybe I could have dressed a little better.
I do a round of the ballroom, taking a glass of punch and pretending to sip it. My eyes are taking in everyone who comes in and out, ready to act.
Enzo certainly spared no expense for this ball, since there's also a live orchestra in the corner that is currently preparing to start a waltz.
"I don't think I've had the pleasure," a smooth voice says from behind me. I turn slightly, only to be met with my husband's piercing gaze, his flimsy mask doing little to hide his identity.
"No, I don't believe so," I reply in English.
I'd prepared for this eventuality. Since Enzo and I only ever spoke in Sicilian, it would be easier to mask my identity this way. Unbeknownst to him, my English has also improved, and no one can make fun of my peasant girl accent anymore.
"Why don't you tell me your name, beautiful," his charm is quick at work and I feel a pang in my heart. Of course he's an innate flirt.
"How about I don't?" I retort saucily, returning the flirtation, "this is all about secrecy is it not?"
Tonight had never been about Enzo, but staring into his bewitching eyes I can't help but remem
ber the tears he'd shed at my bedside not so long ago.
Laughter bubbles inside of me as I realize that a few days ago he was promising me eternity, and now he's here trying to score with another woman.
Oh, the irony!
And I was once again the dumb girl who believed his sweet words laced with arsenic.
Maybe this is all for a reason. Finally erase him from my heart forever.
He clearly doesn't know who I am, so wouldn't this be the best way to test his loyalty?
"Dance with me," he doesn't give me time to react as he literally sweeps me off my feet, taking me with him on the dance floor.
The waltz is in full swing, and his hand reaches the small of my back, gripping me close to him as he leads me into the dance. My arms go around him, holding on to him, so close yet so far.
"What if I'd said no?" I ask cheekily, determined to see how far he's willing to take this coquetry.
"Would you?"
"Yes. I'm married, you see," I say softly, my words ending on a sad sigh.
"Is it so bad? You don't seem terribly attached to your husband," he twirls me around once before my front comes into contact with his once more, this time closer, our bodies lined up perfectly.
A breath catches in my throat as his hand goes slightly lower. I turn my eyes to his, curious to see what hides in his gaze when he's charming other women not his wife.
"He isn't very attached to me," I turn my head to the side, feigning disappointment. "He's a philanderer who doesn't care about my feelings."
"How could anyone not care about your feelings, cara? You're simply exquisite," I feel his breath just below my ear, hot, sinful and inviting.
"Tell that to his many mistresses," I retort ironically.
"He's a fool then, if he doesn't know what he has," his fingers are playing with mine in a pose that would send a classical dance instructor in a frenzy. Slowly moving lower, they brush over my wrist before taking it and bringing it to his mouth.
"What would be the best punishment for such an adulterer? In your opinion?" I try to ignore the way my skin reacts to his touch or how my heart breaks seeing him do to another all the things he's done to me.
Morally Decadent (Morally Questionable Book 3) Page 33