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“You have something else to say, Vinny?” Cristian yells. “Feel free to attempt to murder me. Until then, Natalia will become my wife. The longer I have her, the more info I’ll drag out, detail by detail.” He jabs the tip of his gun against Natalia’s cheek, withdraws it, and then plays with the gun in his hand. “Until next time, gentlemen.”
We are so fucked.
14
My trip to Italy is the opposite of what I imagined. I haven’t spoken to Antonio since our call after Vinny killed Dario.
Someone needs to put a bullet through Vinny’s head, pronto.
To add to my stress, Benny told me Natalia is marrying my father. When Natalia first broke up with Vinny and I learned he wanted to kill her, I suggested Benny marry her. My father dismissed that idea.
So on a whim, I told him to marry her. I didn’t believe he’d go through with it. My hope was for Benny to talk his way out of the Cavallaro contract since he doesn’t want to marry Neomi anyway. He calls her a fucking maniac, and while I always appreciate madness in women and know Neomi would give my brother a run for his money, my best friend is more important.
I also know my father isn’t marrying Natalia out of the kindness of his heart. He always has ulterior motives, and I’m nervous about his motives with her. It’s not like he’ll love her and they’ll have a real marriage.
When Natalia calls me, I fake excitement.
“Hello?”
“Hi,” she replies slowly.
“It’s about damn time you called.”
“Your father stomped on my phone and threw it into orange juice.”
“Ugh, that sounds like him.”
“Did he tell you that …” Her voice trails off.
“That you’re marrying him?”
“Yeah … that.”
“He didn’t. Benny did.”
“Are you okay with that? Do you think it’s weird?”
“You’re marrying him so you don’t die. I’m plenty okay with that. It’s not like you two will actually date and be intimate.” I squeal, almost sounding like Aunt Helena. “I’m trying to clear my schedule here to come home for the wedding.”
Not like I have a schedule here.
I just need time to process everything.
“Let me know,” she says. “We’ll pick you up from the airport.”
She changes the subject and asks me about Italy. I tell her about the weather and shopping. I don’t mention Antonio.
There’s no point.
After what happened, I’ll never have a future with him.
It’s been years since I’ve suffered a sleep-paralysis episode, but tonight, it came back with a vengeance. Clutching my chest, I sit in bed and fight for every breath. The dark bedroom only amplifies my terror.
It’s not only the sleep-paralysis episodes that torment me. The aftermath is just as torturous. It’s even harder to figure out how to explain it to people.
There isn’t an easy way to describe the experience of waking up with no muscle control. You feel suffocated, like you’re dying, and then come the vivid hallucinations.
So I haven’t told anyone.
