3

(Present)

 TIFFANY WEST

 Blackness. Inky and stagnant. It dripped into my subconscious.

 It was often an escape from reality, a comfort in the madness. But this time they whispered to me, telling me not to wake up now, not to wake up ever.

 Unfortunately, a pulsing ache in my head wakes me up. Feeling like roadkill, I let out a groan as a wake of nausea hit.

 “Dear God,” I groaned.

 Throwing the covers, I almost fell out of bed. Even my steps felt loud as I stumbled to the bathroom.

 Fuck. How much did I drink last night?

 The ache in my head stopped every attempt to remember how last night ended, all I could remember was Elena and I kept downing shots of alcohol at The Vincenzo wedding. We'd attended here in Las Vegas with her husband, Dimitri. Apparently, Dimitri Castello and Mr Vincenzo were business partners. I wasn't sure to what extent, maybe the latest groom was also a member of the Cosa Nostra, seeing as Dimitri was a New York don himself. But whatever curiosities I had, I didn't dare utter them. 

 The only reason I accepted Elena's invitation was that the distraction was exactly what I needed to escape my own miseries and most probably impending doom.

 I assured Elena I would eventually get used to the fact my best friend was the wife to a Mafia don, hell I tried, and I was still trying, but I couldn't just forget everything I'd witnessed. The blood. The death, or the fact that her husband was one of the world's most dangerous men and I was solely alive because I was Elena's friend. That didn't sit well with me and I was not sure it'd ever will. But the only thing that mattered was Elena's happiness. She deserved it after everything she'd been through. She loved him too, and from what I could see, the almighty Dimitri Castello loved her as well.

 I moved to the toilet and squinted before it. I wasn't sure I needed it. I waited a good minute before deciding to brush the horrific taste from my mouth.

 Still feeling awful, I showered, and keeping the water cool helped to clear my head a little. After I've dried my body, I wrapped the towel around my body and stared at the mirror when something caught my attention. My eyes lowered to the sparkle on my hand and my eyes narrowed to the enormous diamond on my ring finger.

 I blinked faster as my breathing sped up. My legs went numb instantly and I braced myself on the counter with my free hand. 

 What the fuck!

 Shocked out of my mind and struggling with the hangover from hell, I could only stare at the ring on my finger. My mind was spiraling with several thoughts.

 What did I do? I couldn't believe desperation had forced me to do the unthinkable. I just couldn't think this ring represented what I thought it did. I couldn't get married. I'd promised myself I'd never, not even for the lives of my mum and the asshole of a stepfather Francis. I didn't want to get married, and even if for some twisted fucked up reason I did, it would be to someone of my own choice. Not one chosen by Mother Dearest, let alone Francis.

 The pulsing ache in my head only increased as I tried to recall what happened last night but the last I remember was drinking at the wedding with Elena.

 Fuck!

 I rushed to my bedroom to get dressed so I could get to the bottom of what happened last night when I noticed something strange. Something I should have noticed the second I crawled out of bed. The conscious thought made me stop at the bathroom door. This wasn't my suite.

 I brought a hand to my lips, scanning around the unfamiliar suite. I almost jumped in shock when I caught a figure standing near the window. Lorenzo Russo. The last person I wanted to see at the moment. At least not in the panic-stricken and confused state I was in or the sudden vulnerability I felt standing in nothing more than a towel in front of him while his deathly stare narrowed on me.

 He was dressed in a black suit, with his ice-blue eyes on me and a cup of coffee in his hand. One that was as black as his heart, if he had any.

 My earlier vulnerability morphed into anger and the words left my lips instantly. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

 His gaze remained on me as the heat of his gaze touched every inch of my body, reminding me of that night at the hotel where I'd felt every inch of his body against mine and he'd seen everything he shouldn't have. He'd seen everything I was.

 The stare he sent my way briefly before I left that night had haunted my every awakening moment. He'd seen me bare. Stripped of the protective walls I had built around me. He'd seen me panic and broken and at the mercy of his comfort. 

 That was precisely the reason even the sight of him infuriated me. Even though I'd buried the memories of that night like I did with every bad decision of mine, I couldn't change the infuriating truth he'd seen me for who I truly was. A broken, mindlessly weak whore.

 My throat constricted and my anger intensified. “I asked why you are here?” 

 His stare was dismissive as he tossed the document he was holding on the table close to me.

 A second lasted before I moved forward and picked up the paper and the first thing I realized was it was a married certificate with both our names on it.

 Oh fuck.

 Breathe, Tiffany. Breathe.

 But it wasn't working. I stumbled backward as my eyes darted back to Lorenzo's indifferent stare on me as he took a sip of his coffee. My eyes widened even more seeing the band on his ring finger.

 “What is the meaning of this?” My voice was nothing more than a shocked whisper.

 “You suddenly can't read, topolina?” 

 I shook my head, my hold on the document tightening. “It doesn't make sense. I can't be married, much less to you, so what the fuck happened last night? What did you do to me?”

 “If you weren't drunk to a stupor, you'd remember,” His gaze flickered with something skin to dry amusement. “Keep reading,”

 And I did. I went through the second document, my lips hanging open in shock. To my horror, each paper contained several dealings between my family and the Cosa Nostra. But it was impossible. There was no way Francis or mum could be involved in illicit business with the Cosa Nostra.

 “What is this?”

 “Everything your family owes me,” He replied, setting his cup of coffee on the table.

 I froze in shock. My lips parted, but no word could get past it for a full second. “They work for you?”

 “As a matter of fact,”

 I dumped the pile of papers on the table, fighting the mild tremble in my bones as a brutal realization hit me. But I didn't want to accept it. I couldn't have been sold off to him.

 “I don't care if they work for you, or what they owe you. It had nothing to do with me,”

 “It has everything to do with you because you have been offered as a compensation for their debts,”

 “And I decline. Is that why you forced me into marriage last night?”

 “Trust me, you were more than willing,”

 “I was drunk. I don't care what's going on with you and my family, but I strongly suggest you settle it with them. This is my life, and no one gets to sell me off and make decisions for me, or force me into a marriage with the devil no less. 

 Something in my words seemed to amuse him. He pulled from the wall and trekked the long distance to the door. “Put some damn clothes on. Pack your things we leave in an hour,”

 “What? Like hell I'm going anywhere with you. I was drunk last night senseless. I don't give a fuck what I said or what I was thinking. You know that, so let's stop wasting both of our time and get a divorce,”

 He stopped with a hand on the door. The corners of his lips tipped up with a smile of dark amusement. “I'll let you know when I start taking orders from little American women, and forget every thought of having a divorce. It's not happening,” He pulled the door open and stepped out of the room. “You have just an hour,” He added over his shoulder before the door slammed shut.