Chapter 2

♠︎Emily♠︎

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The shocked faces of the people on the sidewalks we sped past made me laugh harder. A snorting-squealing-giggling maniacal kind of laugh. "Today's the best day of my fudgemuffin life!" I screamed as the winds pulled the flesh on my face taut.

"F*ck yeah!" Luna screamed gleefully, tightening her hands around the steering wheel. Breaking the no cursing rule.

My hand immediately strained towards the backseats of the car, where our bags were.

Despite the struggle, I dug into my bag and pulled out a yellow notebook. I wasn't about to let five dollars slip through my fingers.

My heart sang joyfully as I ticked Luna's name under the offenders slot.

Luna screamed, horrified, the shrillness of her voice getting lost in the furiously wafting winds. "I thought I threw that f*cking book away!"

Another tick. I was ten dollars richer. Today was really the best f*cking day of my life.

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The sharp crack of a slap landed on my cheek hotly, snapping my head to the side.

My mother, for a moment, looked surprised she'd slapped me: she rarely ever let her emotions get the best of her.

Her shock soon wore off and was replaced with the murderous glare she'd been sporting when she'd marched into my room.

"You will bend to your father's will, Emily," she hissed at me.

I slowly raised a hand to my burning cheek, the first pricks of traitorous tears starting to blur my vision.

My mother's eyes settled fleetingly on the place my hand laid, I thought I saw guilt swarm in her gaze. But it was gone the moment I bursted out, "No! I'm not marrying that... that sleazebag, or anyone else for that matter! I'm just nineteen, nineteen! I have a whole life ahead of me and I'm not ready to spend even a quarter of it married to a son-of-a-bitch!"

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening in shock and anger, then raised a hand to render another slap across my face. My eyes closed tightly, my facial muscles stiffening as I awaited the sting of the slap.

"Stop it, Louisa," my father ordered calmly, appearing at the doorway.

He slowly walked into the interior of my room. Lorenzo, his bodyguard, now stood at his previous spot near the doorway, expressionless.

Father's woody scent and the faint smell of cigarettes wrapped around me as he drew closer. When he stood before me we stared at each other.

And stared; a silent battle of wills.

My memories of him had always featured him in a suit.

And now, he wasn't dressed any different. The sleeves of his white button down were leisurely folded up to his elbows from having just come from dinner, his black suit jacket discarded.

I stared into his dark eyes; stifling the urge to blink.

"Emily," he started softly.

Warning bells rang in my head.

"Castello is a good man, he'll take care of you. I'll make sure of it," he vowed.

I breathed in slowly, starting to shake my head just as slow. "I can't, I j--"

His eyes grew cold. "You can, and you will."

A flare of panic started to lick around the walls of my stomach. "But," I began frantically in a useless attempt to sway him, "I already have a boyfriend."

The coldness in his gaze was suddenly replaced by mocking disgust. "You mean that pus--"

"Riccardo," Mother called firmly.

He checked his curse, his brown eyes staring me down. "Next tomorrow's your engagement. Get ready," he clipped.

Then after a moment of staring at me in silence, he turned and strode out of my room with my mother behind him, leaving me to blink disbelievingly at the now empty doorway; my hand on my throbbing cheek.

The empty corridor stared back at me, it seemed to mock me, act as proof that in a house full of people; I'll always be alone. Always have my wishes looked over for the safety of the family.

I clenched my teeth, feeling a wave of anger course through me as tears slipped from my eyes. Crying meant I was helpless against my fate, and I was.

Footsteps sounded in the hallway, gradually approaching my room.

And I stared as my twin sister, Ardoo, paused briefly to take in my miserable state, smile; and continue down the corridor.

Sniffing harshly, I marched over to the door and slammed it shut.

I jammed my back against the oak door and stared at the plush expanse of my room. It reeked of wealth; I wanted it to reek of warmth, of love.

Not the cold grey and pristine white designs my mother had hired done for me.

I slid down the door and landed on the floor absently, not caring if I smudged my white capris. I shouldn't have worn white anyway.

My eyes stared miserably into thin air.

I was... getting engaged to be married soon.

I buried my face in my hands. Nineteen year olds didn't get married.

Girls named Emily were just as normal as their names were.

A self deprecating snort tore out of me. My name wasn't even Emily.

It was fudging Emiliano.

My father had taken it upon himself to breed males, and when he didn't get the desired effect, he named us after them.

I was Emiliano.

Ardoo was Leonardo.

And, fudge, I think my last sister got it worse. Bonaventura.

I sprang up from the floor, determined to do anything that'd distract me from having to think about the deep end my life was plunging into.

Heading for the sewing equipments and mannequins at the far end of the room--they were for my fashion project--I stopped, and marched over to my ornate dresser on an afterthought.

Grabbing my phone from the table, I dialed Luna.

My eyes stayed glued to the full length mirror as I waited for Luna to pick up. My brown eyes stared back at me. My face was an exact replica of Ardoo's. We were identical, but it only went skin deep. It was as though fate took its unsolicited due for making us look so alike by making us practically strangers.

But, I thought, feeling a pang in my chest as a brief memory of the day things went south between us flashed across my mind: fate wasn't entirely responsible for everything.

"Hello, mortal! Queen Luna's gone on a vacation to hell. It's hot! And so are the demons there! S--"

I groaned, cutting off the voicemail.

Closing my eyes, I inhaled through my nose; then dialed her line again, my hand twisting my bleach blond hair so tightly I was afraid I'd stop blood from flowing to my head.

Eight years ago I'd met a little devil who called me Marena. He'd taken one look at the garlands in my pale hair and had threatened to drown me.

And being so little I was scared shitless, I'd thought... I'd thought I'd just met a psychopath.

So I did what every child in my position would do.

I struck out my backpack--which had weighed a ton--and slugged him over the head with it. Then ran into the arms of safety; Luna.

Her chubby arms had gripped me tightly as I related my horrid tale.

And being new to Russia then, I'd researched a lot. I found out Marena was a Slavic winter goddess, who's effigies were drowned on the first day of spring. I'd met Vasili on the first day of spring.

"Hello, mortal! Queen Luna's gon--"

I flung the phone to my queen sized bed after sending Luna a quick text, and my body followed soon after. I landed heavily on the bed, buried my face into layers of soft linens and screamed.

It was nighttime in Miami. The soft, quiet winds billowed the drapes in my room and tickled the skin on my nape.

My family's Mediterranean style mansion home was situated in one of the most affluent neighborhoods in pinecrest.

It wasn't particularly known to be quiet at night, but given that we were away from civilization--by several acres of land--the area I lived in was always silent. And lonely.

Curling into a ball, I gave up the fight not to think about the wayward spiral my world was about to take. What do I do now? Elope to Japan?

I sniffed quietly, the small sound loud in the still room. My eyes stung hotly.

I looked at my phone, which laid a short distance before me, and contemplated calling Jerry; my boyfriend. My hand slowly slid to my phone now, and after a moment of gripping it tightly I called him.

I chewed on my lips as I waited for him to pickup.

I expelled the breath I was holding when his groggy voice sounded over the line.

"Hi, Je-"

"Emily? Why are you calling so late at night?"

"I..." Breathing in slowly, I said lamely, "I'm not happy."

His voice softened. "Babe, what's wrong? You didn't set one of your mannequins on fire again did you?"

A slow smile dawned on my lips. "I didn't," I replied, then said with a sigh, "today's just... been off."

"What," He said, I could hear his smile, "bad hair day? Peeling nail paint? Broken heels? Surprise period? Ma--"

A giggle escaped me. "Enough."

This was one of the things I loved about Jerry, he could always put a smile on my face even when I was down--that was if Luna didn't put it there first.

Luna had been my friend since third grade, and like most friendships formed at an early age--and in school--one had to be getting bullied.

I wasn't bullied per say--if you could call a boy chasing you around the school with puckered lips being bullied. But I was harassed, by a pimple faced boy who was determined to steal a kiss from me.

He'd finally cornered me at school one day in the hallway, and was about to land one on me when my saviour appeared.

My knight in shining braces.

'Get your f*cking sshlimy handsh off her, you bloody twadpole!'

Looking back now, I think he'd been more surprised at Luna cussing at such a young age than he'd been at her daring to cuss at him.

Since then, Luna had kept vigil at my side: with the single minded intent of warding off 'bloody twadpoles.'

I heard heavy breathing sound over the line and smiled softly, Jerry must've fallen asleep. I dropped my phone on my bed and faced the ceiling.

''What am I going to do?''

I whispered to the multiple crystals on the chandelier hanging up above. Their answer was to twinkle at me.