Chapter 14 Chapter fourteen
I painfully look forward to the day when I no longer have to wake up to my cruel reality — being married to a man I barely know anything about.
I look forward to the day when I no longer have to feel anxious about my safety or freedom.
I look forward to the day I’ll wake up in my apartment back in Los Angeles, where my peace of mind reigns supreme.
And until that day comes, I’m not sure I’ll ever be excited to experience a new sunrise — since I already know it’s just the renewal of my suffering and mental struggles. A fresh reminder that I’m still trapped where I’m not supposed to be, because of my supposed family’s betrayal.
“Arise and shine, sleepyhead… Sorry, I meant sleepy wifey!”
The loud, excited feminine voice shattering the tranquility in the room is quickly followed by harsh rays of sunlight streaming through, piercing my closed lids and nearly exploding my brain from the sensitivity.
The fuck?
My temples throb with discomfort as I groan and exhale.
The scent of cinnamon and cherry cologne soon drifts into my nostrils, disrupting my sleep even further as bodily warmth envelops me.
I hiss in my sleep but physically shudder when a hand taps gently against my mattress.
This compels me to finally snap my eyes open. And when I do, silvery-blue eyes, sparkling with untamed glee, stare down at me.
“Hi! I’m sorry I woke you up,” the feminine face I’ve slowly come to recognize as Carmen says. “Just couldn’t contain my excitement,” she adds.
My pulse skips a beat as the surprise of seeing her here fully registers.
Quietly exhaling, I push myself up into a sitting position as she sits beside me on the bed.
My gaze slides to her, and she’s smiling genially. There’s no makeup on her face this morning, but she still looks very beautiful. Her long black hair is pulled into a ponytail, a few strands hovering over her forehead, and her full lips look soft and moisturized.
“Good morning,” I eventually greet, and she returns softly,
“Morning. How was your night? Did you sleep well?”
Well, what do you think? You fucking woke me up.
But of course, I don’t tell her that. I simply nod and lie that I did. I think I actually did.
“How are you feeling?”
“I’m okay.” I pause. “You?”
She grins. “I’m okay too.”
Then I nod.
I subtly turn my head to glance at the clock by the bedstand, genuinely bewildered to see it’s almost 10 A.M.
What the…
“Join us for breakfast, Liora,” her voice draws me back to the conversation, and I return my attention to her, surprised and too caught off guard to reply.
Her hands reach for mine on the mattress, and she strokes gently as she adds, “I want to get to know you more. Is that okay?”
I’m unsure of what to say. But in the end, I just nod, still filled with guilt as I recall our awful encounter from yesterday.
To think she’s still being nice to me and all. Maybe she really didn’t notice back then.
I told myself I’d apologize the next time I saw her. I think now is the best time to do just that.
“I’m currently making breakfast with Agnes in the kitchen,” Carmen informs, breaking me from my train of thought. “Come downstairs when you’re done, okay?” She waves her hand, clarifying, “I don’t mean for you to join us in cooking. I mean, come downstairs for breakfast. Agnes told me you’ve been eating all alone.”
I let out a light scoff and nod in affirmation.
Carmen’s smile widens. “Not anymore. I’m here now.”
“Yeah,” is all I can reply.
She studies me and then exhales with relief before saying, “I should head back,” withdrawing her hands and making to rise from the bed.
But I stop her midway. “Uhm, about yesterday…”
She pauses and stares at me, making me swallow nervously as our eyes lock.
Still, I continue softly, “I’m sorry for the way I may have acted. I was just—”
Carmen interrupts tenderly, “Annoyed? Upset? Caught in a mood swing?” Her smile remains unwavering. “Trust me, it’s okay. I hold no grudge. I understand you’re still familiarizing yourself with everyone around here, and that’s fine. I actually blame my brother for not mentioning me to you.”
You can’t really blame him if I never gave him the chance to. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“So it’s not your fault,” she trails off.
I force a smile onto my sleep-rumpled face and mouth a “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll be waiting for you downstairs, Liora,” she says at last, leaning over to kiss my cheek before straightening.
Then she turns and saunters toward the exit, my gaze following her until she’s out of sight.
I shut my eyes briefly and breathe in, like I’d been deprived of doing that while she was here.
My entire body feels weary, and everything in me screams to go back to sleep. But I know I can’t.
She asked me to join them for breakfast, and even though I don’t really feel the pleasure of dining with strangers, I know I can’t decline.
I owe her that for her easy forgiveness.
So with another sharp, frustrated sigh, I pull the mattress cover away and get out of bed, heading to the bathroom.
\~~~
This should be good. That’s what I tell myself as I descend the stairs, one hand gripping the railing as I glance around.
The mansion is vast and devoid of familiar faces except for the bodyguards standing rigid at designated spots.
I nod subtly at them, but their expressions remain stoic, posture standoffish and protective.
Well, well.
I look away from them and focus on my direction instead.
I don’t know what to expect from breakfast with the Sorrentinos since it’s my first time, but I hope it turns out just fine. Because I don’t have the energy to deal with crap this morning.
The aroma of grilled bacon, toast, sausages, and fried chicken wafts into my nostrils, and I feel a wave of mortification as my stomach growls in response. Fortunately, nobody else hears it — or so I think.
Don’t really care.
I thank my lucky stars as I finally step off the last stair.
I glance sideways in search before the dining room comes into view. It’s right beside the kitchen — the source of all those delicious aromas.
Redirecting my gaze, I swallow, tugging at my summer dress as I push my legs forward, closing the distance to the room ahead.
Eventually, I come to a halt at the table — and it’s one hell of a delightful sight to behold.
The large dining table is filled with an array of dishes, as if it’s some kind of festive morning or something. Too many meals.
My gaze lingers on each until I’m practically feeding my stomach through my eyes.
“Liora! You’re here,” a delighted voice calls from behind, and I swallow when I recognize it.
I slowly turn around, and Carmen is already in front of me, pulling me into a warm embrace before I can even react. I barely manage to reciprocate before she releases me.
“Come on, have a seat. We’re preparing dessert. It’ll be ready in a minute,” she informs. “Be patient, please.”
I nod subtly, glancing around once more before taking my seat on the chair she so kindly pulled out for me.
I thank her before she disappears into the kitchen again, leaving me alone with the bounty breakfast.
My heart clenches with anxiety as I rest my hands on my lap, fingers fumbling with each other.
I inhale and exhale slowly, patiently waiting for Carmen’s return.
Nonetheless, in my waiting hour, I can’t help but wonder if a certain someone will be joining us for breakfast.
He wouldn’t now, would he?
Do Mafia men eat breakfast with family?
Wouldn’t he be too busy for that?
Given I haven’t caught a glimpse of him since I came downstairs, I assume he’s gone to work. Or maybe he’s still in his room.
My stomach knots as I recall our conversation from yesterday — and my heart squeezes even more when I remember his condition before I can get my phone back.
His exact words were, “When you start behaving like a good girl.”
I can’t believe he actually said that. What did he even mean?
I can’t believe he—
My contemplation is butt in when I hear imposing footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
My brows shoot up, and I stiffen in my chair almost instantly, my heart pounding as the scent of cedarwood and amber envelops me fast.
No.
Fuck no.
He’s here.
He’s joining us for breakfast?!
“Good morning, mi esposa,” Lorenzo’s greeting is more of a taunt, his husky voice brushing past me as he strides nonchalantly to his seat at the head of the table.