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Saved as Princess and the local insanity facility.
I click on Princess and listen to it ring.
“Hello?” Her voice carries a soft, tired tone, as if she’s half asleep but forcing herself to stay awake to wait for my call.
Ignoring the rain, I step off Vinny’s porch and wander down the sidewalk. “Got your gift.”
“Considering you called, I figured.”
“What does this mean?”
“You tried giving me a phone first. What did you intend I do with it?”
“It was my ticket to see you again. Any way you can sneak out and meet with me?”
She scoffs. “Do you remember where I live?”
The Marchetti Mansion’s security outdoes Guantanamo Bay. No one has been able to breach their walls. Even though I’ve never been to the mansion, I’ve driven by the gates. They’re always under constant supervision by armed guards.
I lick raindrops off my lips. “What do I need to do? Hunt you down?”
“I’m attending the charity masquerade ball tomorrow. Maybe I’ll see you there.” She ends the call.
I shake my head and shove the burner into my pocket before driving home. I don’t park inside the garage. Instead, I keep my car just outside the gate, which is two acres from the house. In the morning, I’ll instruct my security team to check the phone for anything suspicious.
Gigi doesn’t seem like the malicious type, but just like she doesn’t completely trust me, I feel the same. Especially when I have more than myself to worry about.
All the lights are off inside the house, and I key in the security protocols. After changing my clothes, I sneak into Amara’s bedroom. She’s sleeping, and I shake my head when I hear the hint of a snore.
I didn’t want a daughter. Sure, that sounds harsh.
Daughters in this world are seen as bargaining chips.
Sons are born for succession and daughters for marriage alliances.
I won’t do that to Amara.
Sitting on the edge of her bed, I check she’s tucked in tight before my gaze lands on the framed photo collage on her nightstand. Clara made it for her.
In one photo, Sienna cradles Amara in her arms on the day she was born.
Another displays Sienna, Amara, and me standing together in front of a Christmas tree.
The last one captures Sienna staring straight at the camera, laughing.
I grab the frame and run my thumb over Sienna’s face. Amara carries traits from us both. Her hair, as black as mine, flows past her shoulders while her ivory complexion resembles Sienna’s, complete with the freckles that grace her nose.
I hate she shares those similarities with Sienna because I fucking hate Sienna. She was selfish, and that selfishness got her killed and left my daughter without a mother.
I return the frame to Amara’s nightstand, press a light peck to her forehead, and leave the room. The door clicks as I gently shut it and trek down the hallway to my bedroom.
My home spans ten thousand square feet and features three wings. Clara stays in one, Damien in another, and Amara and I share one.
The bathroom tiles are cold against my feet when I swing the glass shower door open and turn on the water. Tomorrow’s to-do list creeps into my thoughts like a bad memory as I undress and step under the showerhead. As water pours down my body—dripping down bruises—thoughts of Gigi hijack that list of responsibilities.
My brain lingers on all the things I want to do to her. As I think about her sweet body and how I want to see more of it,my cock hardens. I wrap my hand around it, stroking myself, while imagining her naked, on her knees, sucking my dick in that smart mouth of hers. When I come, I moan her name through my lips. As the cum washes down the drain, I wish it were sliding down her throat instead.
After I shower and dry off, I call my mother.
