18

18
Arabella

I groaned out loud as I tossed from side to side on my bed. My eyelids fluttered open, and I let out a sigh of frustration. It was yet another morning. This wasn’t the bed I woke up on - my bed was a large queen size, and the sheets were comfy.

The room was the perfect temperature, and yet I struggled with sleeping every night. There was a lot on my mind. Don Corleone. It had been weeks since the charity gala, and I was yet to hear a word from him.

I pulled the duvet over me and sighed again. Admittedly, I hadn’t given it much thought when I had the idea. It was one of those ideas that dropped into my lap, and I decided to run with it. The mansion was gated and well-secured.

I wasn’t allowed to leave at will. Marco said there were certain privileges that would come with time.

I was basically a prisoner in a mansion. My old phones and laptops were taken from me, and the only devices I was allowed to use were controlled by Marco. I couldn’t get anything past him. So how was I supposed to plan with a mafia boss and kill Marco?

I needed help, clearly - this was not a task for one person. Don Corleone had seemed like a really intuitive person. Did he not think about this part? What did he mean he was going to keep in touch?

How? He didn’t even take my number or give me his. Was he trying to seem mysterious and creepy? Because if that was the goal, he executed it perfectly.

There was a knock on the door. I sat upright, pulled the duvet tightly around me, and said, “Come in,” my heart beating faster in my chest.

The door opened, and then five maids trooped in. I sighed in relief. My forehead knitted into a frown. I wondered how they always knew the exact moment to show up at my door. They were always there right about the time I was waking up.

“Good morning, Miss Rodriguez,” Maria greeted. The other maids chorused their greetings.

I sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. “Good morning. How did you know I was up?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. “Do you have a surveillance camera or an alarm that goes off whenever I open my eyes?”

The maids exchanged a knowing glance, but neither of them answered. Instead, one of them asked, “How would you like your coffee, Miss Arabella?” She had set down a tray containing a kettle and a small teacup.

I shrugged. “With extra cream, please.”

As they busied themselves with their tasks, I couldn’t help but notice Maria’s reserved demeanor. I recalled the awkward encounter we had when she walked in on Six and me in a compromising position.

Since then, anytime I bumped into her, I couldn’t help but wonder how much she saw and if she had mentioned anything to anyone. My guess was no - if she had, then Marco would have killed me. Six’s words replayed in my head over and over again.

I peered out the window. “It’s a sunny day today, isn’t it?” I asked, smiling at Maria, but she didn’t respond. She gestured toward the girls, giving them instructions.

“Just the perfect weather for a swim. Maybe I should go for a swim,” I added.

The silence stretched in the room.

“Maria, how’s everything going?” I asked again to make small talk. This time around, I was more direct, calling her name.

Maria merely grunted, her focus on laying out my clothes for the day.

I tried again. “Has Marco said anything about his plans for the day?”

Maria didn’t even bother to look up; she simply hummed in response, inaudible words.

I shook my head in disbelief. “Did Marco ask you to keep quiet? Did he instruct you all not to speak to me? How long do you think you can continue to give me the silent treatment?”

She didn’t answer.

I chuckled dryly. “I’m bored to death here, and I happen to have all the time in the world. I’m not going to stop bugging you. I don’t have anything else to do with my life or my time…”

“Miss Rodriguez, what are you in the mood to wear today?”

I exhaled. “If I were your daughter, Maria, would you like me to be married to that vile man?” I shouted.

The room grew quiet. Everyone froze midair, stopped doing what they were doing, and turned to look at me.

Maria stared at me, wide-eyed.

I looked around in confusion, wondering what I had done or said wrong. “I’m sorry, I didn’t m—”

“If you were my daughter…” she chuckled dryly. “I’d have cursed the day you met Marco, cursed the day your marriage to him was fixed, and you’d never have met this man in the first place.”

I swallowed.

Complete, utter silence followed her words. You could almost hear a pin drop. And then she tipped her head at me and turned around to leave. The other maids followed after her, leaving me alone, chilled to my bones.



For the first time since I arrived at the mansion, I freshened up alone. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. I looked a lot better than I did when I arrived here at first. My eyes were no longer red and puffy from crying myself to sleep.

I picked up a brush and combed through my hair. I was due for a cut, among other things. I slipped into a simple pale green dress, not the black short dress with a deep neckline that they had laid out for me. I pulled up my hair in a messy bun and stepped outside.

The house was quiet. Marco and his men were out on whatever it was they usually spent the day doing. That didn’t mean there weren’t a few men loitering about, armed heavily. Six was nowhere to be seen.

He was home mostly, but not always. Marco had said there was no need for him to protect me at the mansion, after all, it was heavily guarded.

When I went out to the dining room, breakfast had been laid out for me. I pulled out a chair and plopped down on it, the scent of pancakes tickling my nostrils. I smiled to myself as I recalled a memory.

It all began with fluffy pancakes like this every morning. I smiled despite myself, remembering how I used to wake up, pad down the stairs, and rush to the dining table.

My mom’s giggles filled the room, and Dad - Dad was usually there too. Only, he wasn’t this mean and mindless man that he was now. He used to be sweeter, kinder.

They would grab me just as I arrived at the table, pulling me into the warmest hug and showering me with kisses. Breakfast was my fondest memory of my family - it was the only time we were all together.

At dinnertime, my dad would be out somewhere most of the time. I was truly happy then. My life was perfect.

I picked up a fork and cut through the pancake, and a tear trickled down my cheek. I cried so hard at the breakfast table. Wrapping my arms around myself, I let the sobs shake me.

The pain felt fresh and raw. I let it all out. I didn’t know how long I sat there crying, but I wept until I couldn’t shed another tear.



I was reading a book when I heard the knock on the door. I sat up, startled. The maids usually didn’t bother me after the morning hours.

Marco was out, which left only one person. Six. I jumped to my feet and rushed to open the door.

I gasped in shock. “Hi…hello.”

Marco grinned widely. “Ah! So eager. Did you miss me that much?”

I swallowed as I stepped back, the words caught in my throat.

He stopped and looked me over. “Those aren’t the clothes I laid out for you this morning.”

I froze. Did he really handpick my clothes every morning? What kind of crazy ass— I looked up to see that sick, twisted smile on his face. Of course. Marco was the kind of man to obsess over clothes.

“It was small. It didn’t fit,” I lied through my teeth.

He shook his head in disbelief. “Nah, that can’t be. The dress is your perfect size, Arabella. I picked them out specially—well, except for the ones you chose yourself the day we went shopping. Those didn’t fit.”

I held my breath. What have you done, Arabella?

“I…”

He walked past me and slammed the door behind him. I shuddered involuntarily.

“Change out of those clothes, Bella.”

I hesitated for only a brief moment - but just long enough to infuriate him.

“I said change them, goddamnit!” he barked.

“Y-yes,” I stuttered. I reached behind to undo my zipper.

I dreaded this. Each passing day, I woke up with my heart in my throat, fearing it would be the day Marco finally forced himself on me. I had expected it to happen sooner. I had imagined him as a mindless dog, but he was much worse.

That day in the lounge with his men, when he’d asked me to take off my clothes, I thought nothing was stopping him then either. But something had. He’d stopped.

The man I thought he was… he was far worse. He loved playing these games - I could tell. He wanted me to ease into this life.

It looked perfect. He wasn’t bothering me. I had nice meals, nice clothes, nice things. But he was waiting - waiting until he could pull the rug out from under me.

The dress fell to the ground, and his eyes ravaged my body. I reached to pick up the dress he wanted me to wear, but he stopped me.

“Wait. Nice choice of underwear. Was it one of the ones you got the other day?”

My cheeks reddened. It was one of the ones Six had picked out, but, of course, I didn’t dare say it out loud.

Marco gave me a long, hard stare, his eyes covering every inch of my body. It was deliberate. He wanted to make me self-conscious, terrified. This was the game he thoroughly enjoyed.

He loved seeing me squirm - wondering if this was going to be the moment I dreaded the most…

My heart pounded faster in my chest. Then, suddenly, he broke into a grin and looked up at me.

“My designers will be here in a moment. They’ll take your measurements for your dress. We’ll be having our engagement party!” he exclaimed, his excitement like it was pleasant news.