Chapter 18 The Devil & The Tigress
SANCIA
The next day, when I woke up, I was filled with energy and a new purpose to change my fate. My mood was much better with the new hope that things weren't as hopeless as I'd first thought.
Antonio had come for me, and I have my cousin's unwavering support. I couldn't just give up and accept this marriage, as Papa and everyone, obviously, expected me to.
I wasn't built that way. I will take matters into my own hands and save myself no matter what. I don't care what the outcome will be, as long as I'm not bound to Lorenzo Marchetti. I had bathed and was fully dressed by the time it was time to go down for breakfast.
Mama, Isabella, and the rest of my family stared at me, surprised when I came downstairs for breakfast; even Papa looked surprised, though he'd kept watching me throughout breakfast.
Though I'd come out of my room, I wasn't my usual bubbling self. How could I be with my life, love, and dreams on the line? I have a motive and didn't want either Mama or Papa to get suspicious of me.
I didn't want to come off as too calm or give the impression that I had accepted this God-forsaken marriage because I hadn't, and I never will, especially because both Papa and Mama wouldn't buy that act, not one bit. I wasn't like Isabella, who cried and eventually accepted her lot.
But I also didn't want to continue being miserable so much that I wouldn't be able to access information and the freedom to do what I needed to do.
Though Antonio coming here has given me the courage I needed, I know it won't be easy to get out of this arrangement. So I have to tread carefully.
After breakfast, I went back to my room without a single word to anyone and stayed there until my brother Sergio came for me later in the afternoon, saying Papa wanted to see me. Mama had walked in and started looking through my closet.
“You should dress appropriately as befits your status. You're not only the daughter of a Capo, but you're now getting married to one,” she said. I bit my lip to stop from retorting that she wasn't this enthusiastic when it was Isabella getting married to Lorenzo.
But I didn't want to get on anyone's bad side before I met with Antonio; Mama could present a problem for me when I don't need one, especially now.
She selected a short-sleeved black dress and placed it on the bed, then looked through my jewelry box and took out a pair of white-gold hoop earrings and a wristwatch.
“Put this on quickly, you don't want to keep your Papa and his guest waiting.”
“What guest?” I asked, looking between her and Sergio with a frown. This was the first time I heard about it. I should have probably guessed that when Mama started frantically searching for a dress for me, but that's my mother. She has always been like this.
“It's Lorenzo,” Sergio replied, his face scrunched as though he'd tasted something bitter. My heart hammered with apprehension; I had naively thought that I wouldn't have to see him until the engagement day.
That was what Papa had implied. Guess that was too much to hope for. I don't know what I did to deserve this or what crime I was being punished for. At that thought, that familiar guilt assailed me, making my stomach cramp.
Of course, how could I have forgotten this must be karma? It's the universe punishing me for what I had done. For the crimes I had committed. It's ironic in a morbid way that I'm married to a man who was supposed to be Isabella’s.
“Sergio, can you give us five minutes?” Mama said. My brother looked up from whatever he was doing on his phone and nodded.
“Of course, Mama, hurry up, Sancia,” he said before getting out and shutting the door behind him. Mama turned me around and started unzipping my dress.
“Now listen to me, Sancia. When you go downstairs, don't try to act smart with the Capo. You're an elegant woman, and you should behave as such. Your father has let you get away with a lot of things; he'd spoiled you and tolerated you all your life, so you're comfortable spouting whatever nonsense came out of your mouth,” she was talking fast as she forced me into the dress and zipped it up.
“Lorenzo is not like your father,” and hallelujah for that, I said in my mind. Papa might be a bad man, but he wasn't a monster. Mama was now brushing my hair, despite my best efforts to take the brush from her and do it myself.
“He would not tolerate that kind of behavior; men like him want their women to be elegant, demure, and obedient.”
“Then he should marry Isabella; she fits all those criteria,” I sassed
“Isabella wasn't the one meeting up with strange men without our knowledge,” she replied harshly. I felt hurt that Mama didn't believe that I didn't know Lorenzo. She pursed her lips and ran her eyes over me. I'd already put on the earrings and wristwatch, she nodded.
“Much better. Remember none of those snarky comebacks.” I almost snicker.
But instead turned just when Sergio knocked on the door. I opened the door and met my brother's worried eyes; I forced a smile and started walking down the hallway. He kept pace with me at my side.
“I heard what Mama said. She's just worried, and she's trying to look out for you.” I scoffed.
“Mama only cares about Isabella,” I said. He and I both know that. Papa wasn't the only one who had a favorite among his children. Sergio suddenly stopped walking and faced me. His face was serious.
“Sancia, I'm not trying to scare you. But whatever you heard about the man, he's much worse than that. Lorenzo Marchetti isn't a man many in the Cosa Nostra understand, which makes him more dangerous.
He comes off as charming and easy, but there's nothing easy about his darkness goes deeper, so be careful with your words when you are around him,” Sergio warns.
I smiled sadly at him, but I was happy he had warned me to be careful. I already knew Lorenzo was a monster, but I was glad I wasn't the only one who could see right through that man. The problem is, it was not just him. Everything is wrong in our world.
“Hello, Papa,” I greeted after stepping inside the office. My heartbeat doubled.
“Come, Sancia, your fiancé is here to see you,” Papa said. Everything inside me told me to get the hell away from here, but my feet were already obeying Papa's order because that's what it was.
I glanced back at Sergio and saw that he was still at the door right inside the office, just like the young dark-haired enforcer Lorenzo had come with, who was also on the other side. Fabio, I heard that was his name.
The last time I was in Papa's office was days ago when my life took a drastic turn for the worse. Papa and the devil were both seated on the leather couches.
I glanced first at Papa, then my eyes met honey-brown eyes staring at me darkly, and my heartbeat turned erratic with so many emotions.
Anger, fear, and hate were something I'd rarely felt for anyone. But as Lorenzo straightened up and stridden towards me, there was another emotion I couldn't explain that made my pulse thump faster and my throat dry.
If I hadn't seen what I did back then, it would have been so easy to fall for him; the man was a ten out of ten by all standards when it came to appearance, but unhinged up there.
He was wearing black dress pants and a white shirt that molded to his muscular build and flat stomach. He'd rolled up sleeves, baring strong hands and forearms. For once, he didn't greet me with that family grin/smirk.
“Hello, Sancia, your father was just telling me about the roses in your garden. Do you mind showing them to me?” I glanced at Papa, and he nodded.
“Of course,” I said, channeling my inner Isabella, but I couldn't muster a forced smile.
“Sergio will go with you,” Papa said, staring at my brother, who nodded and straightened his shoulders as they followed behind us as we got out of the office. He and Fabio were walking side by side, glaring at each other.
We made our way out of the mansion and started towards the backyard, where the garden was. Sergio and Fabio were in the distance behind us, close enough to see us but not close enough to hear us if we talked, and talking was the last thing I wanted to do with this man.
“You've changed; you don't look scared of me,” he said, yes, narrowed, assessing, always assessing. Despite my reluctance, I found myself replying.
“Why should I be afraid of you?” I glared at him and tried to walk faster so I could put distance between him and me. I could lie, but every part of me is telling me to put distance between the Diavolo and me. The trees, grass, and flowers make the garden cooler, and the breeze is refreshing as it blows over me.
“Liar, you're scared of me,” he said with an amused chuckle, keeping up with my strides.
I swallowed. What did I learn about predators? I tried to remember what I'd watch on wildlife documentaries. Yes, never show them or admit that you're afraid of them, even if standing close to them terrifies you.
“I'm not. And do not assume you know anything about me. Let's not pretend that I don't hate you right now because I do. You're ruining my life,” I spat as we both stood near thick bushes of wild roses, glaring at him with all the hate and anger inside me. Pointing an accusing finger at him
“You could have any woman you wanted as the new Capo, so explain to me why you have to steal another man's woman, especially a Vincenzo. I'm your enemy as you are mine.”
“That's not true, we're allies. And if I'm going to marry, why not a Vincenzo? I heard they make the best wives; they are demure, elegant, and virgins. I'm a possessive fucker. I can't have a loose woman as the mother of my children now, can I?” He admits what I already guessed.
While I appreciate his bluntness, unlike the others who blatantly hide it, this shows the hypocrisy of men in our world.
So he's no different from the others, just as I thought; he just wants a ripe apple someone hasn't bitten into. An idea began to form in my head. I laugh mockingly.
“Oh, now I get it, you want a clueless virgin as a wife after you've probably whore yourself around your entire life. Now you expect to get married to a virgin. Pretty presumptuous of you, isn't it?”
“Firstly, there's no probably about it. I did fuck a lot of whores…” My jaw slackens. He shrugged.
“Secondly, isn't that what I should expect from a Vincenzo? Your family practices the bloody sheets tradition, which means I will be your first.”
I snickered, rolling my eyes at him. “Well, I hate to break it to you; if you thought you were bagging a virgin, I'm not sorry to tell you I'm not.”
“You're not what?” he asked, eyes dark with silent fury, though he still had that smirk on his face. It took all my strength not to take a step back, which is a weakness I cannot allow.