by Skyla Madi
It takes all of my strength not to comment. Mostly because there’s only a string of cuss words waiting at the peak of my throat.
“She’s getting old, though. Soon Marco is gonna have no choice but to marry her off to one of these gross bastards just to keep some land.” He kisses his teeth. “It’s a shame really…to see a beautiful body like that be wasted under one like his.”
The thought turns my stomach. When Deena pulls back, Sera smiles politely and attempts to step around him, only he snatches her arm in his pudgy, knuckle-less hand. Panic flares across her beautiful face as her cherry red lips part. She shakes her head, attempting to pull her arm away, and I’m already crossing the yard to them.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Amico,” Roman calls out, but I ignore him.
What the fuck else am I getting paid to do? Marco said keep unsavory characters away from his daughter and this asshole is the most unsavory of them all.
I swallow the distance between Sera and Deena. On my approach, Deena takes a step back, but he doesn’t release her arm.
“Value your fingers, Deena?” I growl at him and he screws up his ugly, toad-like face, spitting on the tiles by my shoes.
“Who the fuck are you?”
I hate when people answer a question with a question. “Let her go and I’ll gladly fill you in.”
He tugs her closer to him, pressing the side of her body against his. “You don’t know who you’re talking to, boy.”
Boy? How long has it been since I heard that one? “I don’t give a shit who I’m talking to.”
“Ben…” Sera’s eyes are pleading, her lips pursed as she shakes her head, silently begging me to stop.
I may not be one of these…these…made men, but they should fear me all the same. With the right weapons, I could take them all out without breaking a Goddamn sweat.
“Ben?” Deena chuckles under his breath. “Well, Ben, you better get the fuck out of here before I—”
I draw my gun and point it right at his gigantic forehead. Adrenaline flurries through me, rushing through my blood with vigor and viscosity. I love it. The heaviness of metal and death in my hand. My finger twitches against the trigger and I want nothing more than to pull it and scatter his brains all over the place.
Surrounding us, the clicks of guns being pointed in my direction—in every direction—signals a stalemate, but we have home court advantage.
“I’ll ask you one more time. Do you value your fingers, Deena?” My finger twitches, begging to pull the trigger. “Because I’ll gladly relieve you of them.”
Deena glances around the yard with his beady, black eyes. He’s looking for Ivan, probably, but what does he think Marco is gonna do when he walks out and sees him touching his precious, little girl? Me shooting his hand off will be the least of his worries.
Or maybe it won’t be. I could have been wrong this whole time. Perhaps protecting his only daughter isn’t as high on his priority list as I first assumed.
Deena flashes me his palm, dramatically releasing Sera’s arm. “Happy?”
“Ecstatic,” I deadpan. He attempts to push past me, but I lower my gun and snatch his soft elbow. “If I catch you within six feet of her again, I won’t be so lenient.”
Deena smiles widely, showcasing his crooked teeth. “You’re a dead man.”
He shrugs me off and I let him go, withdrawing my gun to my waistband. Behind me, Deena shouts for the guns to be put away before he storms into the house, disappearing from sight.
“Do I look like a damsel in distress to you?” Sera snaps, folding her arms across her chest.
I raise my eyebrows. “Wow. A simple thank you would be nice.”
“Thank you? He’s going to kill you.” She walks toward the orange juice fountain and I follow. “I can handle Deena. I’ve spent the last seven years of my life avoiding his awkward proposals. My father would never agree to it.”
“You seem so certain.”
“I am.” Grabbing an empty glass from the stack, she fills it halfway and takes a small sip between her cherry lips before setting it down. “By the way, we need to go to the drug store.”
I frown. “What for?”
“What do you mean what for?” she snaps in a whisper, swallowing a little distance. Her perfume engulfs me and she’s close enough for me to assess her flawless make-up application. Subtle wings, a little highlighter, and long, black lashes that can’t possibly be real. “Last night.”
“Ssh.” Licking my lips, I glance around us. Jesus. “I’m sure it’s fine.”
“And you want to risk it? If my father doesn’t kill me for embarrassing the entire family with an illegitimate child, then you can explain why it has your eyes.”
I roll my eyes. “You’re not pregnant.”
“No, I’m not.” She picks up her glass again, her eyes skittering over my shoulder. “And I’d like to keep it that way. Hi, Daddy.”
I turn around as Marco approaches, his thick, graying eyebrows pulled into a frown that makes me uneasy. “What the hell is going on out here, Ben? You’re pulling guns on people like fucking Deena Giavanni? Have you lost your Goddamn mind?”
“I was doing my job,” I tell him.
“Deena got grabby,” Sera chimes in, cringing. “The usual.”
Marco looks at Sera. “You all right?”
She nods, plastering on a fake, sad little pout. “I am thanks to Ben. I don’t know what I would have done without him here.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. She’s overselling it. Like I said, she’d make a terrible actress.
“Fucking Deena,” Marco spits, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his khaki slacks. “That useless pig. Do you know how insulting it is having to entertain this pack of fucking vermin? And at my place of rest, no less?”
At least we’re both on the same level.
“I know Deena seems pushy with the nuptials, but unfortunately, there are offers I will have to consider soon.”
Sera lowers her glass of orange juice, her face contorted as if it’s the grossest thing she’s ever tasted. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“We’ve had this conversation a million times, Seraphina—”
I shift my weight. “You can’t possibly be thinking about marrying her off to one of these…these—”
“—don’t you open your mouth about somethin’ you don’t know,” Marco snaps, and Sera storms off, her yellow summer dress bouncing around her thighs. “There’s no man on this planet worthy of my daughter, but sometimes a father’s gotta do what a father’s gotta do to keep his family prospering. Deena and his brother have made incredible offers for her hand time and time again. I can only refuse for so long and she’s not helping. Have you heard the rumors?”
Clenching my jaw until my teeth hurt, I shake my head.
“The shit they say about my little girl…heartbreaking, truly fucking heartbreaking.” He shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe throwing her into the deep end will help her sort her shit out.”
I don’t disagree. I don’t agree, either. How can I? I open my mouth and I’m dead. I want to, though. I want to defend her, to tell him she’s not as reckless as he thinks she is—and she’s definitely not a whore. I’ve felt the inexperience in her touch. Sera’s a good girl. A little lost, but still a good girl.
“I should go find Sera…”
Slapping a hand on my shoulder, Marco shakes his head. “No. She’ll go to her room and cry for a few hours and then she’ll be fine. In the meantime, I’ll have James go home so she can’t use the car and I’ll put Roman on watch in the hall by her room.”
Roman? That guy is just as twisted as Deena.
“And what would you rather have me do, then?”
“I have to leave for New York in a few hours and I need you to run a few errands for me.”
Sounds fun, except I’m not his fucking errand boy. I clear my throat, careful not to display my displeasure. “All right.”
***
&n
bsp; It’s late by the time I come back from running Marco’s errands. None of them were a part of my job description, but they weren’t anything I couldn’t handle. I did have to pistol whip an older gentleman for cash that he owed, but besides that, smooth sailing—with the exception of stopping at Walgreens for a “Plan B” morning after pill, of course. She’s welcome to that. Christ. I don’t even have ovaries and the woman at the counter made me feel terrible about buying one, silently judging me with her beady blue eyes.
I stalk up the stairs of the manor to a tired looking Roman, who drags on a cigarette as he leans his slender body against the front door. “What took you so long?”
I shrug. “It was a long list.”
“You get it done?”
“Yeah.”
He pushes off the door and drops down the stairs. “Good. I can go home.”
I glance over my shoulder as I grab the door handle. “Who’s here?”
“Seraphina and maybe Luca.” He waves me off. “Why don’t you have a Goddamn look?”
I open the door and go inside. I walk around the empty house looking for people, but I come up short. Eventually, I find myself outside of the two, huge double doors to Sera’s room. I knock softly, but there’s no answer. I call her name and she still ignores me.
“I got that thing you wanted…from Walgreens.”
Nothing. Exhaling, I move to the wall opposite her door and I lean against it and wait.
For an hour, I wait and wait and wait, until I can’t take it anymore. I storm forward, grab the handle, and push the heavy door open. Her room is nothing like I expect. It’s modern and sleek. There’s even a fireplace and bookshelf filled with books—thick books.
I pause, scanning over everything, and I realize as I stare across the room and into a dark bathroom that she’s not here.
“Sera?” I shout. “Where are you?”
No answer.
Fuck.
This is not happening.
Chapter Eleven
Sera
Late that night
I stand at the edge of the diving board, bouncing slightly with the wind. I’ve been standing here for a long time, staring into the pool, contemplating whether or not my so called “life” is worth living. I love my life, I do, but I loathe what’s to become of it. Ivan’s wife? Or worse, Deena’s wife? I’d sooner shoot myself in the head. How could my father even contemplate imprisoning me to that life? Maybe I should bear Ben’s child. No one would want to marry me then. My own father would be forced to disown me.
I toy with the handgun in my hand. It’s heavier than I thought it’d be. I took it from the kitchen counter on my way out here. I don’t plan on doing anything with it, I just…I don’t know. I guess I wanted to see if I had what it takes to pull the trigger in the off chance that I’m married off to a Giavanni.
I don’t think I do.
After my parents left for New York, I walked—no, I ran—to Naomi’s place. She wasn’t home, naturally, but I knew where she kept her spare key. I spent a long time there, waiting for her, but she never showed up. After I called her a billion times, she got back to me with a simple text saying she’d call me later because she was out with the girls.
And I was alone.
I’d never envied her more than I did when I read that text. She’s free to do whatever, whenever. She’s free to marry whoever the hell she wants and I’m…well, I’m me. A pawn to be married off in the name of family.
When I came back, no one was home, no one beside Luca, but even he had somewhere he needed to be. I went to the guest house to talk to Ben, but he was still out running my father’s errands so, for the first time in my life, I was free…and yet, I’d never felt so isolated.
“Sera?”
My lips twitch as Ben’s voice echoes around the backyard, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Come inside.” The diving board I stand on bounces and vibrates as he inches onto it. I hear him shuffling toward me. “It’s starting to rain.”
I tilt my head back and tiny droplets of rain patter over my face, growing larger and harder by the second.
So it is.
The diving board begins to bend, lowering me closer to the pool’s surface, the nearer he gets to me. I peer over my shoulder, ignoring droplets of water that cling to my lashes, and my heart skips a beat at the sight of his face. Relief and worry paint his expression, a beautiful mix on him.
Ben Campbell. The only part of today that I don’t completely loathe.
I sigh and, suddenly, today doesn’t feel so overwhelming. “Unzip me.”
In the glow of the pool, his jaw tightens with impatience as his stare flickers to the gun in my hand. He doesn’t want to unzip me. He wants me to hand over the weapon and go inside, but he doesn’t open his mouth. Instead, he reaches for the zipper of my little yellow dress and drags it down. I lower one arm and the sleeve slides off, then I switch the gun in my hands and do the same with the other.
“I don’t want to get the dress ruined,” I say, letting the dress pool at my feet, parts of the fabric falling into the water anyway. The cool spattering of rain lands on my shoulders and my bare breasts. “I think you like this yellow one.”
“Fuck the dress, Sera. Burn it. I don’t care, just don’t…” I flex my fingers against the gun as he speaks. “…just don’t hurt yourself.”
I slowly turn around and Ben—always the gentleman—keeps his stare on my face, not my chest.
“Why not?” I ask, tilting my head. “I don’t want to marry Deena. Or Ivan.”
“And you won’t.”
I see the promise in his eyes, the good intentions, but the problem is Ben doesn’t know a damn thing about this way of life. About family, and honor, and deals. I was trade meat the second I was born. My father knew it. My mother knew it. And there’s nothing Ben can do to change that, not even if he stepped up to marry me himself.
“I don’t have a choice, if my father decides it.” I extend the gun to Ben. “I wasn’t going to do anything with this, anyway.”
I don’t have the courage. Cautiously, he reaches for the gun and quickly snatches it out of my hand before emptying it of its bullets and stuffing it into the back of his waistband. I look at his hand as he extends it to me with caution, as if I’m standing on the edge of an eight-story building.
“Let’s go inside.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t come to the pool just to look at the water.”
I jump off the diving board and crash into the water, kicking my legs to move to the far side of the pool.
When I come up for air, I peer at Ben, who stands on the board, his hands planted firmly on his hips. “Aren’t you tired?” he shouts. “I’m tired.”
I shake my head. “Go to sleep. I’m going to swim for a little bit.”
Sighing, he glances up at the sky before lowering himself to sit on the board. I swim over to him and tread water to his left.
“I got you what you wanted from Walgreens.” He reaches into his back pocket for a small packet. “And I never want to do it again.”
“That bad, huh?”
I catch the words “emergency contraceptive” before he tears into it and pops a pill from its seal. Moving over to the diving board, I grab the edge and lift myself up, opening my mouth. I stick out my tongue.
“Really?” he asks, giving me one of those famous “Ben” looks—the one with the furrowed brows and crinkles around his troubled eyes. He disapproves. Ben always disapproves.
I wiggle my eyebrows and he places the pill on my tongue with a sigh.
I swallow it, happily. “Thanks for that.”
“Waste of money, if you ask me.”
“I didn’t ask you,” I say. “Come in. The water’s nice.”
“I’m good.”
Not taking no for an answer, I snag him by his shirt and I pull him into the pool. He curses as his large body breaks the surface, kicking his legs.
“Jesus Christ, Sera,” he snaps. “You co
uldn’t give me time to get my jacket off at least?”
I shrug, reaching for his shoulders. I curl my fingers around his jacket and push the soaking fabric halfway down his biceps. He treads water effortlessly as he shrugs his way out of his jacket and lets it sink to the bottom of the pool.
“Happy?” he asks and I smile at him.
He looks good wet. I like the way his hair shimmers with drops of water, flattening out his usual spiky, disheveled style. Above us, the clouds open up and the spattering of rain turns into a steady shower. The raindrops shimmer like diamonds in the glow of the pool as they descend before disappearing into the water.
“Do you swim topless often?”
“Only when I’m home alone.” I laugh, inching closer to him. “I like to sunbathe naked too.”
Swallowing, he averts his dark eyes across the yard.
“Are you blushing?” I tease, touching his chest.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
His black button up shirt clings to his well-defined torso. I like touching him. I like the way he keeps his face so neutral, not betraying a single emotion. Ben Campbell has two personalities. Sometimes he’s courteous and polite, the perfect guy to bring home to your mother. Other times, he’s ruthless and reckless, filled with aggression and passion. I think of him as a masterpiece, a collection of intricate patterns that morph the longer you look at him. He’s a complex human, that’s for sure.
“Can I ask you a question?”
His eyebrows pull in and he settles his gaze on my face. “Preferably not.”
“Do you like me?” I ask anyway, wrapping my legs around his waist so I no longer have to tread water.
I feel him tighten as I move my arms to bring my torso closer to his. I drape my arms around his neck and he still manages to keep both our heads above water.
“Do I like you?” He nods, averting his eyes. “Sure. I like you. You’re a good girl.”
“No.” I squeeze him tighter. “Do you like me?”
I imply everything in my tone. Do you like me romantically? Sexually?