Chapter 12 Chapter Twelve
My sister has always been my anchor — ever since we were kids. She’s the only one who can draw me back from a murderous high and keep me on a leash when my beast is on the verge of a killing spree.
We’ve always been close. She’s the only person allowed to tell me the bitter truth — to correct me when I’m wrong, to confront me when necessary.
Safe to say, she’s my soft spot. The only one I listen to.
“Answer me,” Carmen prompts, and I look at her — her arms crossed over her chest, a questioning look etched on her face.
“What the fuck do you mean by I kidnapped her?” I huff. “She’s my wife.”
“Yeah, well, she didn’t act like it — or behave like she’s even pleased to be here.”
“She’s just adjusting to her new home…”
“Same thing Agnes said, and I think it’s bullshit.”
I shrug. “What do you want from me, Carmen? You were the same person who was so excited to see her. I told you it was a bad idea, but you insisted.”
“I didn’t expect it would turn out like this…”
I interrupt her. “What exactly happened in there? What did she say to you?”
“Nothing meaningful. If anything, she was dripping with hostility. Can’t tell if I’m even the problem, but I doubt that,” she sighs, almost imploringly. “Something is wrong with her, Enzo. She looked so pale, and her face was tear-streaked — like she’d been crying for a while.”
Tear-streaked?
“Hmmm…”
Carmen cuts in, “Was my analysis correct? Had she really been crying?”
“How the fuck am I supposed to know that?”
“You can start by telling me how exactly you two ended up married. I still can’t wrap my head around it. How did you pull her? It seems impossible — not with the rumors that have been going around about you.”
I pause, observing her inscrutably, but end up saying nothing. Carmen doesn’t exactly know how Liora became my wife. Like I mentioned earlier, the wedding was impromptu.
My sister’s voice seeps through my thoughts. “I thought you married her for love. Just like the way you wedded Lia…”
“Don’t.” My jaw clenches.
Her voice softens. “What’s going on with you, Lorenzo? You seriously can’t force her to be with you if she doesn’t want to.”
“I’m not forcing her. Nor did I kidnap her. We got married in a church full of witnesses. If she didn’t want to wed me back then, she could’ve easily called off the wedding.”
“Easily called off the wedding, huh?” She chuckles incredulously. “Tell me, how did you get to marry her though?”
“Her father and I made an arrangement.”
“Who?” she asks curiously. “The man who lost to you in that bet?”
“Yeah.”
“And you asked for his daughter as payback or what?”
“I didn’t ask. He offered.”
“And you gladly accepted?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” I cock a brow. “I needed a wife. Now I’ve got one — I don’t see what the problem is.”
“No, the problem is that you’re literally forcing this woman to be with you. She could fall into depression because of this, you know — and die from it if care isn’t taken.”
I huff. “Okay, you’re overreacting, Car. That’s never going to happen… On second thought, how about we call it a night?”
“But I’m not done talking.”
“My ears are full already,” I say, already approaching her.
“What, you can’t handle the truth?” she sneers in my face. I retort as I reach for her shoulders and spin her around gently.
“No. I can’t handle your constant nagging,” I say, pushing her outside and closing the door before she can attempt to get back in.
“Well, too bad you’re stuck with me! Goodnight, motherfucker!” she calls out before her footsteps fade down the hallway.
I draw in a sharp breath, my heart clenching and my ears still itching from her incessant complaints.
Fucking hell. Carmen can be infuriating at times.
But is that really how she views this though? That I forced Liora to marry me?
I didn’t — technically. I only accepted that old hag’s proposal when he offered his daughter, Liora Fletcher.
I had no idea that the lady I’d once encountered at one of my Los Angeles modeling companies would turn out to be this woman.
Yes, I’d met Liora before we got married. But I don’t think she’d ever recall that encounter since we didn’t exactly exchange words — or anything at all.
But that’s not the point. The point is she’s now mine. Stuck with me. And unfortunately, there’s nothing anyone can do about it.
‘She could fall into depression and die from it.’ My sister’s words replay in my head, but I brush them off.
Carmen is renowned for overreaction and exaggeration. I get that she’s worried about the girl, but nothing’s going to happen to her.
Liora's resentment toward me can’t possibly lead her to harm herself… right?
Hmm.
I shake my head, pushing away the unruly thoughts as I head to bed. Can’t recall the last time I slept a wink.
I’ve been so busy these last three days, chasing business traitors, that I barely got the chance to close my eyes.
Some hoodlums stole from my gang in Indiana and thought they could get away with it just because they slipped from my hands here in New York and fled to Russia. Well, what they didn’t know is that I have people everywhere — people who watch out for me.
It didn’t take long before we caught the imbeciles, and I made sure they were properly handed to their respective deaths before returning to New York with Carmen.
I release a sharp exhale as my back hits the mattress, the hard bed barely dipping beneath my crushing weight.
The room is now swallowed by darkness, but even so — even as I stare up at the black ceiling — I still see her face. Her brown hair. Her mesmerizing eyes. The last smile on her lips before it vanished forever.
The blood. Fuck, the puddle of her blood that surrounded me that day.
I clamp my eyes shut, trying to silence the noise and images clawing at my mind, only to be engulfed by deeper darkness.
My heart burns at the gruesome last memory of her, and I long for it to stop.
Even after all these years, the hole Lia left in my heart is still raw. The emotional scar her death carved into me remains unhealed.
Rage simmers through me, my fists clenching at my sides. Even though I already avenged her death, I’m still not satisfied.
There are a few of that bloody prick’s family members still walking scot-free, and until I wipe them all off the surface of the earth — I will not rest. I will not be sated.
I swallow the lump tightening my throat, but my lungs still burn for air. My chest knots with pain, my body heat rising with fury.
Knowing I can’t keep up with these overwhelming emotions any longer, I snap my eyes open and lift myself off the mattress, swinging my legs onto the floor.
I grope for the light switch on the bedside stand and flick it on. Golden yellow immediately floods the room.
I recline, rubbing a hand over my face — exhaling, inhaling and struggling to clear the images from my mind.
Eventually, I gather myself before rising from the bed. I pace back and forth across the room, then halt.
My mind drifts to Liora, and I suddenly find myself wondering what she’s doing right now. It’s almost midnight — could she be asleep? Or perhaps still crying over our marriage?
Unable to guess, I find my curiosity leading me to the door. I step outside and glance down the hallway.
I don’t realize when I’ve crossed the few steps to her room on the other side of the mansion, but I only pause, second-guessing my decision — when I’m now standing face-to-face with her door.
I don’t usually hesitate or second-guess myself; I’m the damn leader that members of a ruthless underworld follow. My actions are always calculated. Controlled.
I don’t involve myself in things I can’t predict — or rather, chase after something I didn’t plan for.
Yet here I am, hesitating to do something I hadn’t planned on doing tonight; seeing her.
But it’s too late to turn back now.
My gaze drifts to the door handle, and I contemplate reaching for it — twisting it open. But then I recall what happened the other day when I almost saw her naked.
She had looked flushed — flushed with fury — and nearly bit my head off for it.
I probably shouldn’t make the same mistake.
Knocking isn’t normally my thing, but I guess I’ll just opt for that tonight. Just tonight.
I’m not changing anything about myself because of a damn girl.
My palm curls into a fist, and I rap on the door twice with my knuckles.
Each passing second of silence feels like air is being stolen from my lungs. I lower my gaze to my hands at my sides. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear they were trembling.
Why do I feel so nervous?
It’s just a fucking girl.
My esposa.
She shouldn’t trigger these unwanted emotions, right?
I’m wrenched from my thoughts when I finally hear her voice from inside, urging whoever’s at the door to come in.
She probably doesn’t know it’s me. I probably shouldn’t stun her any more tonight with my unexpected appearance.
Yet, I can’t wait to see how flushed she’ll look when she sees me. A rush of thrill course through me.
With a smug smirk plastered on my face, I finally twist the doorknob and push the door open…