The moment I finished reading the entire contract, I looked for Lucas De Marchi on the internet. I cannot fucking believe that this man had already signed the contract before I did. It makes me think that he's eager for something other than actually saving me and my father from humiliation.
The page loaded with a lot of news about Lucas appears. Headlines like, Lucas De Marchi found Hand-in-Hand with former Playboy Model; De Marchi's New girl or New Toy?; Mystery Woman with Mr. De Marchi not so mysterious anymore and; De Marchi caught in a Bar Fight.
I don't actually know if Lucas will save me from being an outcast or he'll embarrass the fuck out of me as his new play toy.
I clicked one of the articles about his tantrum in a bar, which was the most recent one. The article loads with his picture. He was wearing a shirt—Kiton, if I'm not mistaken—and he was frozen in place as he attempted to punch a man wearing a Batista uniform. Poor man, I thought, caught up with the troublesome world of Lucas. Lucas looks young for his age. If I was a normal female, I'd say he's fascinating. I'd fancy him. But I am not the typical female and faces like his, I hit them during training every day.
I read through the article. Says Lucas was too drunk to function right and when the Barista gave his date a free drink, he went wild. There were charges pressed against him, but of course, being a CEO, and secretly a Mafia, those were so easy to let go.
I turned the desk chair around and it made a soft squeaking sound. I need to buy a new one tomorrow. The only light that glows is from the lamp on my bedside and the laptop behind me. And despite it, I can still clearly see the interior of my room; white walls, white ceiling, white king-sized bed with a maroon accent on the pillows and comforter. A white carved-up door to the right signifies the bathroom and on the opposite side directs to the closet. The wall against the bed is made of glass, overseeing the night lights of New York.
I take a deep sigh and wonder how stupid I was to agree to this. The Mafia might despise me and my father, but I don't really care. We survived without their help. And although their threats of killing us are becoming more frequent, it doesn't bother me at all. I'd fight with what I got and if I'd die fighting for our blood, so be it. I will fight for my family's name until my very last breath.
I spun my chair back to face the laptop and I closed all the tabs I'd opened just to check on Lucas. I wonder if he had done his research on me. I wonder what he'd seen. I opened a search tab and, not being a narcissist, looked up myself.
Caterina Santelli, I typed. I tried my best to compose myself. In the outside world, I was one of the advocates who promoted women's rights around New York. And yes, I am a feminist and that is why I had despised the idea of being saved by this arrogant Lucas. A job I am more capable of doing. If only my father was patient enough.
A few articles showed about my recent campaign volunteer in New Jersey and another in Arizona. I was relieved to find out that I have no issues like Lucas. My issues lies beyond the Mafia. In the Mafia world, despite our bloodline being hated, I was one of the most notorious shooters. I can shoot a man miles away right between his brows if I want to. And despite all my achievement in the illegal drug trade industry, I prefer being unnoticed. I let my father handle all the transactions. However, I volunteer if they ever need a cover up.
I finally closed my laptop and finished the glass of red wine on my desk. I stood and went to the closet for my nightdress. I put on a silk robe and tie the rope around my waist. I'm not one to tidy up my mess, but I wasn't eager to go to bed yet. Especially when I can't get Lucas' face off my mind. So I took the wine glass from the desk and left my room.
The house was eerily quiet. Everyone might be asleep. Of course, except the security team in the basement and a few security inside and outside the mansion that is yet to be seen by a naked eye. Except for me, of course. I can feel their eyes and I assigned some of their current positions. One was stationed outside the main entrance. One was outside the guard tower, eyeing me with a sniper. Was he going to shoot me? God, no. They just check every movement from inside and outside the mansion. And since there's a floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, my movements are clear as crystal.
With bare feet, I continue walking down the double stair and turn right for the kitchen. There was a dim light and the soft clatter of plates awakened the area. When I enter, I see one of the help bringing out our vintage plates outside its cabinets.
"What are you doing?" My voice sounded like a bomb in the mere silence. The maid jumped and the stacks of plates she was holding almost fell, but did not, as she swiftly dragged them on a surface with a loud clack. She was wearing her white uniform and a pair of expensive clogs. Her hair was tied up into a chic bun that made her neck look longer.
"Ms. Santelli," the maid started. "I did not hear you come in. “Mi dispiace." She turns towards me and bows her head. I like the discipline around this house and the servants around don't disappoint me.
"Si. My fault, not yours. No need to apologize." I walk around the counter to the sink. "What are you doing?" I repeated.
"Your padre has requested me to clean the new plates. He said there'd be visitors coming." The maid does not look up. I rinse the wine off the glass and squeeze some dishwashing soap onto the sponge. "Miss Santelli, please let me."
"No, grazie. I can manage. Please continue what you're doing," I said as I thoroughly washed the glass. I looked over my shoulder and saw that the maid looked up and was confused by my statement. Maids never talk casually to us, but tonight was the heck of an exemption. "So, we're having visitors I see? Quando?" When?
"Domani, madam," the servant girl softly said. Tomorrow? I didn't know about having guests tomorrow. And I always know about the guests coming.
"Did he say who was coming?" I asked as I rinsed off the soap with water.
"No, madam," the maid answered. And I knew that was not the truth. Sure, he did not say who was coming to her face but maids overhear things often. I'd guess some of them knew, before me, that Lucas and I are getting married.
"And you do not have information about any of it? About who's coming tomorrow?" I pressed.
"No, madam," the servant girl closed the cabinets and wiped the plates off from dust.
"The truth, missy." I can tolerate maids, but I cannot tolerate liars.
The maid hesitated for a while and momentarily said, "I overheard one of the headmaids that the De Marchis are coming tomorrow for dinner." I almost let go of the wine glass.
"Cosa?!" What?!
"Miss Santelli, t-the De Marchis are coming over for dinner—"
"Si. Si. But why?" I frowned at her. She halts from what she's doing and gradually shakes her head. I paced. "Non capisco. Non capisco. Non capisco perche. Non capisco. Mi scusi." I don't understand. I don't bloody understand why. Excuse me, I said and walked past the servant, not bothering to return the wine glass in the cupboard.
I cannot believe this! I had agreed to my father's desires, but I didn't know he'd go behind my back like this. I left the kitchen and stomped my way up the stairs to my father's office. I know he still isn't sleeping. The man doesn't sleep at all. At least not that I noticed.
I pushed the door open without knocking. Of course, my father being himself didn't even recoil in surprise.
"Come hai potuto?!" How could you?! "Why'd you invite the De Marchis?" Father did not look up from what he was writing, didn't even think about acknowledging my presence.
"Buona sera, Caterina." Good evening, he sarcastically greeted as he gently put down the pen and laced his fingers together looking so calm and composed. "What do you want?"
"Why the fuck did you invite the Di Marchis for dinner?" I walked towards his desk and slammed my fist into the table.
"Caterina, per favore," he hissed, but there was no spark of anger in his voice nor regret in his eyes. "I only invited them out of kindness," he added.
Bullshit!
"Che cazzo vuoi, padre?" What the fuck do you want, father? "I signed that contract for you more than I did for myself. Now you're inviting them for dinner without telling me? Just like the fact that you already had that fucking contact made before you can even tell me and have Lucas signed it first."
"Watch your tone, Caterina and mind your tongue." From his composed look, I can tell that I was pressing the right buttons. And I am far from letting go. "What I'm doing, I'm doing to protect you."
Again, BULLSHIT!
"Davvero?" Really? "You were trying to protect me? Just like you protected my mother? If you were trying to protect me from the Mafia and your brother, you would have done something—you. Not sending off an ungrateful man for me to marry just because you think he's so pure and worthy. But you weren't even thinking about me, were you? How I'd feel about it. A stranger on my bed every night and day. You want all of these to happen because it will save you from further humiliation. Again, you. So don't make this about me when it's all about—"
I abruptly cut when I heard a loud gunshot echoing through the walls. I, for a second, vaulted from surprise and was slightly taken aback as I heard the faint sound of a bullet ripping through skin and fabric. My eyes wide from shock rather than fear. I stared at my father who was now holding his Smith and Wesson Model 642 handgun and pointing it towards my direction.
I pant in surprise and stare at him in anger, clenching my jaw. From the sudden silence and aftershocks, I feel the pain in my left shoulder. I looked down and saw that my once-white robe is now splashed with crimson.
"Ah. Silence, at last," he said, slowly lowering down his gun, eyeing it more carefully than eyeing me. "Now, tell me about your complaints silently and moderately and maybe I might listen."
I was about to complain, but with the sudden jolt of fear, I halted. I sigh and instead say, "I have a conference tomorrow. Don't expect me to come home for lunch. Or dinner for that matter."
I held my head up as I turned to leave and with the unbearable pain in my shoulders, I cupped it with my other arm and put pressure on it. The fucking bastard was lucky that I didn't have my Bane knife. If I had, he wouldn't be awake to greet the De Marchis tomorrow.
"Caty," he started. I stopped before I could exit the room. "Mi dispiace. I didn't want to shoot you, but you left me no choice." Fuck choices. "And you will be here at 6 for dinner tomorrow."I wait for a moment to see if he still has anything to say. When there wasn't, I left his office and headed towards my chambers.
If not my father, Lucas has to pay for this.
When I got inside my room, I ran towards the bathroom and got the first aid kit from the cabinet. The pain became so unbearable tears were running down my eyes and sweat rolled down my temple. I hissed and panted as I looked at my pale face in the mirror. My mother's eyes look back at me with shock and anger. My hair that I earlier tied into a careless bun was now so loose that some strands were raining down to frame my face. I removed my right hand which was earlier cupping my left shoulder. It was covered with blood and I breathed through the pain. I wash my hand with water from the sink and slowly remove my robe. I let it pool down my feet and stare at the eyesore wound in my shoulder. Without thinking and with the last intake of breath, I jam my thumb and my index finger inside. I scream so loud I'm afraid th
I didn't even know what I'd say when I jolted out of bed, and there's fire in my arm. I've overused the word fuck since I got shot, until I was plunging my hands inside the wound. Even in my dreams. I immediately regret sitting up too fast when my shoulder throbbed. I couldn't even think straight. But the dream came flashing back like a wrecking ball swinging back. I don't usually remember the dreams when I wake, but this time was different. Everything was clear and I remember them vividly. Like it was a memory and not a dream. Like a premonition. Lucas fucking De Marchi was haunting me even in my dreams. I shudder at the memory of his voice. It isn't possible for a person to know one's v
When Chase was in the ring and had his trainer's glove ready, I swung my left hand to punch him on his right side. But he was fast. He dodged my punch as he leaned lower left and hit his glove on my left thigh. My knee slumps to the ground, giving him time to elbow me on my shoulder. I grunt. "Concentrate, Caty," Chase pants, bouncing away from me, so proud of his first achievement of the day. How could I concentrate if all I could think of was Lucas, and my anger towards the man I haven’t actually shared a word with was going to be the death of me? "I need you to get a few things for me," I said, gripping my soon-to-be-bruised shoulder and stretching the strained muscles in my neck. Without waiting for a reply, I lunge at him, swinging my uninjured arm for a quick moment before taking it back. With his sudden reaction to move away to the other side, I swing
I am currently sitting on top of the stage confidently and as elegantly as I can despite my uneasy feeling. I was never a great public speaker. Half of the time, I was talking shit, the other half, I was just boasting what I have. Not really a role model material if you ask me. From my point of view, I can see five familiar faces. Two of which are positioned on the entrance door, one on the exit in the right, another in the group of paparazzi, and one on the top balcony as the acting hawk. There are about 200 students in the area; all graduating this June. And it's stupid for their staff to let me have a talk in the second month of the school year. But I take pleasure from it anyway. I like it when I'm the center of attention. "So let's welcome our guest speaker today, one of Time Magazine’s World's Most Influential Women of the Year, the graceful and beautiful Miss Caterina Santelli," one of the staff in
When we finished lunch by 12, I went to my scheduled manicure-pedicure at Tenoverten Nail Salon. I decided to have my previous blood-red nail polish removed and replaced it with expensive French tips.When that was over, we headed over to Harlem for the magazine signing for the Times. I was ecstatic when I heard I'd be on the cover of Times Magazine this month. From the Most Influential Woman of New York to World’s Most Influential Women of the Year. It's one of the best things that has ever happened to me. And despite whatever is happening with my relationship with my father, and the contract between me and Lucas, I'm still glad that I get to do these—the things that make me happy and the things that I achieved on my own without the help of my father's profile nor his filthy money.The library was full when we arrived. Chase guided me through the c
I refuse to leave my room simply because I want to defy my father. That was the only thought that ran through my head as I stood outside the balcony staring at the front yard below, drinking a glass full of Cheval Blanc 1947. I'm not a drinker really, but when you have a bottle of one of the most expensive wines in the world just hanging in your wine cellar and a screwed-up future way ahead of you, you just can't resist.The knock came again. It was the third time since my father left 15 minutes ago."Mi dispiace, signora," I'm sorry, ma'am, the small, muffled voice of the maid called from outside. "Tuo padre ti vuole giù,” Your father wants you downstairs
Lucas~*~AstonishedThat was it. That was the right word. I fixed my tie when I left my Benz in the vacant garage. But I wasn't expecting this to greet me by the door. And when I smelled the scent of both coconut and Bourbon on her, I felt like I just hit the jackpot in some sleazy casino in Vegas without actually trying to cheat. Electricity danced between us as we both took each other in.She tried being charming when she opened the door. Her gorgeous outfit made her breasts pop like confetti, the dark fabric, making her alabaster skin glow. Fuck. Her venomous eyes show her cold and charismatic soul. I tried to compose myself, not letting my guard down. Not for the first time when I
The first thing I noticed is that he's ticking.I don't know why, nor how, it's just that he's uptight. I knew this the moment he fixed one of the knives on the table. I also saw the way his jaw twitched and the way he softly drums his index finger on the table. Or maybe the way he eyes me when I peek at him under my lashes. And when father gave grace, I opened my eyes to catch a glimpse of him and saw a small frown on his forehead. Yep, he's nervous alright. I mentally laugh. Lucas fucking De Marchi, a Boss, is nervous to meet his fiancèe. Shut it, Caterina, my insides seem to be screaming. You're nervous as well and I bet he's noticed it the moment you opened the door.
I heard things from the darkness when the pain in my chest stopped. I didn't understand it. The words time and death were the only ones that registered. After that there was a commotion. That familiar voice was screaming, and another voice answered. Everything was in distress and I just wanted to yell for them to be quiet. I needed to think. I needed to know where I was. Why was I in darkness?Suddenly, the pain returned. The one in my throat. With cold hands, I grabbed my neck, hoping that whatever was causing the pain would go away. But it didn't. I started coughing. Then the light slowly returned. Not the blinding one, but the right one. Warm, vivid—real.~*~The fluorescent light on the ceiling was the first real thing I saw before I felt the pain in my throat. My eyes stung from the tear
Lucas~*~It has been four slow, cruel and torturous days and I stayed beside Mari every second of it, only leaving when I needed to go change or wash. The rest, I was a guard dog watching over its food.On the second day after Mari was settled in her room, Chase arrived, bloodshot eyes, and a little skinnier than the last time I've seen him. The fact that I was a little bit relieved that he was here for Mari dissolved when I learned that Gian still wasn't getting any better.On the third day, Mari jolted off her bed and the machines went overdrive with beeps. I fucking shit myself when I heard her gag over the tube that was in her throat to help her breathe. The nurses and the doctors that rushed in were frantic and also relieved at the same time. I almost choked the nu
I see nothing.I feel nothing.I can move nothing.But I can hear everything."You have to wake up, Mari," the voice pleads. It was...eerie and familiar, but I can't seem to remember who.The darkness was everywhere. And I was in a never-ending fall towards it. The first thing that crossed my mind was sleep paralysis. I was having an episode of sleep paralysis but this one I can't fight. I remain still, unmoving, dead. With all the energy that's left of me, I tried to reach and follow the voice. But it was no use. Instead, I let the darkness eat me up.~*~
Lucas~*~14 hours.Mother and father left for a quick purchase of food as Harriet lay asleep on her bed. Her even breathes, her pulsing heart and the slight movement of her eyelids; I take them in for a moment, thankful that she's alive. I don't know what I'd do if I got there too late—if Mari got there too late. Jack had arrived a few hours earlier and brought me my clothes. Washing my face from the sink in the bathroom, I momentarily stare at the fucked up in the mirror. Tight jaw, dark bags and five o'clock shadow. Anger filled me as I stared at my reflection. The superficial flaw of my face is nothing compared to what Mari and Harriet have. They had bruises and wounds and stitches while I got fucking eye bags. I should'
Lucas~*~8 hours.Mari has been in the surgery room for 8 motherfucking hours. Felix was done with my bullet wound, I washed my face, paced the floor exactly 16...17 times and there's still no word of what the damn shit is going on.I'd called my parents and told them that Harriet was in the hospital. I called Chase to tell him about Mari. I called Jack and told him to bring me a change of clothes. They were on their way. But that was 4 hours ago. Now I'm just a fucking mess pacing the floor praying for...a fucking miracle. God! What's wrong with me?I sank to the floor, frustratingly gripping my hair with my fingers. Betting my luck, I dialed Sigmund's number again."Wh
Lucas~*~All I see is red. Red from anger, red from panic and red of my Mari's blood, pooling under her body as she lay weak on the floor. I heard every gunshot behind the damn door, all eight of them now in Mari's body. Handing over my sister to the big man, who I learned is Thomas, I told him to call for the choppers. I then ran towards Mari. She was a paper coated in red, limp and pale. Her eyes heavy and tired, her focus in space."Mari," I said, slumping to the ground beside her, out of breath as blood drools down her chin. I grabbed her head, carefully bringing it on my lap for comfort. She grunts in pain. From there I saw a few bullet holes on her body. Heart thumping and face steaming, I calm myself. "You're going to be fine."Her face is wet with sweat and tear
"Run, Harriet. Fucking run!" I yelled as I struggled to free myself from Freddy's arms. I felt the warmth of his breath by my neck, and smelt the stink of the air coming out of his mouth. "Lucas will get you, just run!"Everything was happening so fast, and my ears were ringing, my vision blurring.Freddy was growling behind me, tightly straining me with his muscled arms.Harriet crying out for Freddy to let me go.Me screaming for Harriet to run.Harriet was hesitant to leave me behind, I can see it in her wide and worried eyes. But God knows it was best to leave me be than both of us dying. "GO!" I yelled louder than the first time when she didn’t move. And she does this time, limping on the stairs. Freddy's grip arou
Everything was hazy and it hurt like a motherfucker. My head throbbed like there's a jackhammer inside. I tried to open my eyes despite the pain in my skull and my ankle. Then I remembered that the fucker snapped my ankle when I was lying on my stomach. Hissing, I squint when my eyes directly set visual on the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling. Aside from that, another lamp was angled towards me like a spotlight. Fuck was it blinding.Cursing, I forced myself to sit up on the cold metal surface of what I was lying on. I moved my ankle, but winced when the pain electrocuted my entire body. Nonetheless, I forced my body to stand. Slowly, I wait until I'm used to the pain. Red smeared the low neckline of my tank only to realize that there's dry blood running from my nose and from my forehead. He fucking hit me?! I thought with rage.The room was a metal box. No wind
Mexico was heavy. It was like entering a room with a stuffy and suffocating air. Not to mention the fear that was crawling up on my spine that at any moment, someone might shoot at me. The warehouse is large, glass windows, and steel doors. It wasn't the typical warehouse I usually see that’s covered in steel and metal. It was more like a home than a slaughterhouse. Thank heavens for the transparent windows, it became easier to navigate and shoot.Wearing cargo pants, a black cropped top and combat boots that I changed into from the plane, I lay still on top of a hill by the warehouse, hidden in the grass. At least if I die, I was going to die with good clothes.I stared at the sniper scope, on my belly. And I saw movement.The warehouse was loft-style with brown leather couches and rustic tables. It would loo