Chapter Five

Anna’s POV

Anna glared at her reflection in the mirror as she contemplated packing her hair or leaving it down. It was her engagement ceremony to one of the Capo’s family, and they’d be coming here for the party, spending the night and then she’d be going back with them after the wedding the following day.

“Leave it down,” Leila said from the door as she walked into the room.

Leila was the first daughter and apart from her confusing relationship with Luca, the only member of the family who had a somewhat working relationship with her. 

She let her hair fall back on her shoulders and looked in the mirror again. Leila looked around the conspicuously empty room.

“I assumed there’d be arrangements for help. Make-up at the very least.”

“I told Mom I could do it myself.”

Leila opened her mouth. “And she approved?”

She just shrugged and rested her hip against the dressing table. Her own version was far from what had actually happened. The past two weeks had been full of wedding preparations, from preparing the venue to finding her the perfect gown—things that reflected the glory of the Moreni family. But when it came to the bride herself, she’d been ignored. 

None of the choices had been hers, though she hadn’t expected them to be. She’d become an uncomfortable ghost stalking the walls, especially since Leila had left home not up to 48 hours after she’d heard the announcement.

“Where were you, anyway?” she asked her.

Leila shrugged and hid her eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I had other things to arrange.”

She shrugged in response. It hadn’t hurt, she told herself. She knew better than to get attached. This was the third home she’d ever known in her life, and tomorrow she’d be given to yet another home.

“So,” her sister asked cheerfully, “Getting married tomorrow. How do you feel about it?”

She shrugged again and left her current position for her bed, where she folded her legs under her and sat.

“Come on, Anna. I know this is far from ideal, but can’t you think of one bright spot in all this?”

“I guess,” she muttered.

“Fine. What’s the man like?” Her sister asked, sitting directly beside her in the same position.

She sighed, getting angry with the incessant questions. “I don’t know, Leila.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? You should have seen a picture of him at least.”

“Well, I haven’t,” she snapped.

Leila stared sideways at her, and she just buried her face in her hands. For some reason, tears sprung into her eyes. This house had been cruel to her. She’d been ignored, insulted, sometimes beaten, and mistreated, and yet she’d spent half of her life with them, much longer than she’d spent with her own parents.

“Do you want me to leave?” her sister asked softly, and she blinked her eyes, willing the wetness not to track unto her cheeks. She was supposed to be the picture of a blushing bride, not a miserable one.

“Yes, no, I don’t know," she replied her sister. 

“Alright,” she answered after a short pause. “I’ll stay then.”

With her head still bent, she just nodded and they remained in silence like that for a while. 

The silence was broken by the entrance of Luca. At 22, and as the last child of the Capo, he was the only one who could get away with half the things he did. Because he did not enter the room as much as fall in, clutching a bottle of wine as if his life depended on it. 

They both startled at the noise before they shot up to go and help him. 

“Luca,” Leila whispered harshly. “What the hell is wrong with him?”

She didn’t have the breath to respond, because at that moment the guy who weighed almost twice of her fell on her, tumbling them both down to the floor. 

“Shit!” Leila cried, running to help them.

As if the bad luck she had wasn’t enough, Luca passed out in that position.

“Luca, Luca!” She shook him but he was gone. 

She looked down at herself. This wasn’t a good position, both physically and for her mental health. The idiot had undone almost 30 minutes of preparation. Because while she wasn’t yet in the elegant marron gown she’d gotten for the ceremony, she was already fully dressed. At least she hadn’t gotten injured. 

She grunted as she tried to pull herself out but nothing was working. Luca’s face was on one of her shoulders, and the second hand that was clutching the now-half-empty bottle was gripped tightly at her other side. If the bottle had broken, she’d have had a huge scar on her side if she didn’t die.

Then, his torso and lower body, longer than hers by several inches, were draped down the rest of her body.

Leila surveyed both of them. “How do we get him off you?” she asked, panicking.

“Let’s try to roll him off,” she said, suppressing the urge to start laughing. The plan had been to enter the party fashionably late, but at the point she was, if they didn’t find a solution to the fact that she was stranded and she reeked of beer, she’d miss the whole party.

Leila tried to push him from the side while she made an effort from beneath him, but they both had to give up. The little shit was gripping the bottle so tightly that every push on him made him tighten around her.

She huffed out a breath. “What’s the time, Leila?”

“Is that really important at the moment? The party has likely already started. Let me get Matteo,” she snapped, running out of the room immediately.

Alone, she breathed deep to get rid of the terror that had enveloped her at the sound of her brother’s name, and tried to get him to release her again, but it was for not. With the way his breath reeked of alcohol, he’d likely started drinking the previous night. His own wedding had been postponed for the next six months as a part of the agreement, or at least that’s what she’d overheard, so he didn’t really have a reason to be drinking like this.

When she was hiffing and her every breath was coming in a moan, she had to stop trying. The fact that Leila wasn’t back yet probably meant she hadn’t found their oldest brothers. Not a surprise. As the heir to the house, he probably had a lot of things taking his attention. 

Luca’s weight on her was making her muscles ache and she tried to distract herself from the pain by disassociating. It was a trick she’dlearnedt before she’d clocked 10. While she could proudly say she was innocent, pain had been a part of her life since she’d been taken from her own world.

The Ligaro house had been hell. She’d forgotten most of those memories, but for the seven years she’d been there, she hadn’t stopped paying for her sins. The men had insisted that the shooting had been intentional, not a 4-year old seeing the way something worked and wanting to do the same. From the fragments of her memories and her nightmares, she knew she’d spent the year after that in tears. She shook her head in a bid to forget. The Moreni house had saved her life. They’d attacked the Ligaro house and got rid of half of them, taking the other half as prisoners, including herself. She’d feigned memory loss, which was why she’d been named Anna instead of Camila.

Movement outside her door jerked her back to the present and she started struggling anew. At the point she was in, she didn’t care anymore, she just wanted out. Her ribs were screaming in pain and her shoulder wasn’t much better.

“Leila,” she called out, and the motion stopped. But nobody entered.

“Matteo,” she tried next. 

It had to be either of the two of them, or her remaining family. The ceremony was already going on, guests couldn’t reach this part of the house without anyone’s knowledge.

“Please,” she said swallowing her pride.

At last her door was opened and she yelped as a stranger walked into the room. His eyes surveyed the room with practiced detachment before landing on her fear-ridden face.

“Who are you?” she panted.

“Do you need help?” was all the man asked. His voice was husky, and he stood like someone that had all the time in the word, the edge tension in his position visible to her only because she’d had to learn to tell these things to survive.

She stared at him, and he strode back to the door.

“Wait,” she shouted, panicked, and his feets froze. But he didn’t turn back.

“Yes, I need help.” she answered his earlier question, and when he still didn’t turn, she added, “Please.”

Finally, he turned around and approached her. Because of her brother’s position on her, her robe had opened slightly and he could see the skin of her stomach and the lower part of her thighs. Seemingly without effort, he grabbed Luca off her and tossed him on the bed.

“Careful,” she said instinctively, and he slowly turned to look at her.

But the only thing he said was, “Maybe the next time you want to mess around, you should adopt the top position.”

He was already out of the room before the meaning of his word occured to her and her shout of outrage was echoed in the empty room.