Celeste;
A knock stirs me awake. The blinding light from the parted curtains infiltrates my eyes, making a kaleidoscope of light explode behind my closed lids as I squint. Darkness reigns after.
Still entwined with the blankets, I unwrap myself, jolting from the impact of the knock once more.
"A second," I groan weakly, toes dragging on the rug in search of my slippers.
My head feels heavy, like I'm carrying a load on my tiny neck. I bet my hair is a nest right now.
Stumbling and catching myself multiple times, I attempt a steady gait as I reach the door, yawning.
My fingertips brush against the knob and slide. I try again, twisting the handle and getting it right this time.
The door swings open to reveal a tall figure clad in a black suit and tie—I'm sure it's not the same suit from last night.
"Good morning." His words sound like white noise before settling into a clearer tone in my head.
"Morning," I murmur, feeling like I'm floating.
Romano darts glances down my body. I follow it.
Horror slices through the thick fog in my mind, and I realize that I'm still in my posh outfit from last night's outing.
A smile hangs weakly on his face. "You were quite tipsy, I suppose."
My cheeks heat. Something burns in my chest…a sensation more like shame and reproach.
His airy chuckle makes the redness on my cheeks creep to my neck. "Can I come in?"
I drag my feet backwards, my hands falling from the knob to give him access.
His shiny, expensive loafers thud into my bedroom.
Only then do I catch the thick rectangular envelope in his hold.
I didn't close the door. I hurry to meet him where he stands in the middle of the room, just before my tattered bed.
A curling sensation stirs in my guts.
"I have drafted an agreement on what we discussed," he says, deftly taking out the contents of the brown paper.
"The clauses are all in there." The soft ruffling noise of the envelope shatters the silence.
He hands two laminated-covered documents to me. "You don't have to sign them now. You can go through them later."
I stretch my hands and take them, the weight of it pressing down on my soul for what this will mean.
My lips tremble as a sigh escapes.
"I'll get them tomorrow, after family dinner." Slipping his knuckles into his pockets, he informs me.
"Oh, okay." Uttering softly, I forget my gaze on the contract file in my grip. My mind is everywhere but here at the moment.
Romano doesn't go, and his presence is making it humid in here.
I figure there's more.
"You're aware about the ways of my family, right?"
I was right.
Darting wide eyes up, I remain quiet for a second's breath. Then I nod.
The squeak of the leather in his loafers announces his approach. Slow strides, yet it only takes two to meet me where I stand—only an inch distance between us.
My pulse spikes. Terror for the unknown.
"It's not the sweetest family to get into. Fuck, it's not even what I'm sure your father must have had planned for you."
He curses.
The last time I'd seen him curse was a week ago, during the orchestrated attack.
I gulp, masking my expression with a smidge of false fear glittering in my eyes.
His soften at my reaction.
"There are rules to follow, and a lifestyle to stick to. Disobedience doesn't go unpunished, Piccola mia," his tone darkens, using that silly endearment to soften the blow.
Romano's palm comes to rest on my head, giving me a pat. A habit he seems to have cultivated of late.
I'm nineteen, not nine. Not anymore.
Nails digging into my palms, I try not to let the anger mixing in my blood show. I bite my lip as I mumble instead, "I won't have free will, right? Just like with Papa."
That is common in the Cosa Nostra. Women are just properties to be exchanged for monetary benefits and a means for godawful alliances.
Romano's chin dips. He does his favourite thing—playing with the strands of my hair.
"I'll do my best to protect you, Celeste. You're mine."
Damn. It's the first time he says my name. The way it rolls out so naturally from his mouth has my skin going warm all over.
Paired with his possessive acclamation? My cheeks redden once more.
"Ah—umm." Second-hand embarrassment claws at me from within.
I avoid his gaze, fixing my stare at his properly pressed shirt and tie.
"Okay," I manage.
Manly cologne permeates my nostrils. I look up to find Romano closing the one-inch gap, and before I figure out what's happening, soft lips land on the top of my head. My form goes still. Breath hitching.
He…kissed me?
"I'll be leaving now, Piccola mia. If you need anything, don't hesitate to find the servants…or give me a call." A glint flashes in those wicked eyes.
Of course he means the house phone. He damn well knows that I don't have a cell with me.
"I'll have someone bring you a hangover drink."
The door shuts behind him.
While I stand with the contract files still in my hands. My whole life will just be signed away with a stain of ink.
It's brutally clear that once I sign these papers, I'll be married to Romano Giordano by legal agreement. He'll own me.
Like a fucking commodity.
My grip falters, heart wavering on its resolve.
I close my eyes for a while, and the image of a blood-soaked cheap rug, screams and grunts, and a metallic scent that sits heavy in the air flashes behind my sealed eyelids. I remember it all—like it was just yesterday.
My chest tightens like fingers hold my heart and squeeze.
And the broken resolve begins to mold itself. Piece by fucking piece till it's rooted deep.
The thick page flips, and I take the black fancy gold-rimmed pen, signing my soul to the devil.