“Break down the body with this axe, but take it to the back of the garden before you do that, Rosa,” Papa says. “I have a meeting in twenty minutes. I’m going to begin telling people I threw Beatrix out, and I’m keeping her brat out of the goodness of my heart. I’ll be considered a hero for having a child under my roof that doesn’t belong to me.”
Standing, I exchange the knife for the axe, bending down to grab my stepmother’s ankle to drag her body through the garden. It’ll be slow going since I’m only five foot three, but I’ll get it done. When I glance back at where I saw Vero, I see she’s gone now.
If she knew what’s good for her, she’d leave this house and run far from here. Except, even after this, I doubt she will. I love her and she loves me, even through murder and matricide it seems.
While blood may splatter my skin, it doesn’t hide my nudity. Papa’s men stare at me through dark lashes when they think he’s not looking, one of the only views of me they’re likely to get.
One day, I’ll be gone from here, married to an alpha who’s as insane and angry as my father. All Italian dons are this way it seems.
My life is just a series of deaths until I meet the same end. My only wish is that my transgressions do not hurt Vero any more than they have.
Chapter One
FIVE YEARS LATER
ROSALIA
“Hurry,”I laugh, holding Vero’s hand as she follows me through the crowd toward our blanket. We’re attending Shakespeare in the Park today, and the summer sun feels wonderful as it slowly sets.
This is our day of freedom, and I fully intend to enjoy every moment.
“We have time,” Vero laughs, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. We went to the corner store for snacks and bought small bottles of alcohol with her identification.
She’s about three months older than I am, though she’s never made a big deal about the age difference.
Her hair is pulled up in a French pin to keep it off her neck, and I’m blown away by how ethereal she appears. Her skin is clear of freckles, though I know from experience that there are a few along the bridge of her nose I enjoy kissing.
“I know,” I say, dropping onto our blanket breathlessly.
The truth is that I don’t want to miss a moment of her body pressed against mine. We have pillows piled up behindour heads, something she packed in a bag to ensure we’d be comfortable. She loves Shakespeare as much as I do, so I bought tickets to this as soon as I saw them go on sale.
My lips twitch as I remember when she told me her mother named her Verona, so she was cursed to be a romantic forever. I don’t think that’s such a bad thing.
The last couple of months have had so many incredible performances all over the city, and I’ve bought tickets to all of them under the guise that I’m engaging in the culture our community has to offer. It’s a load of shit, really, because this is the only way I can see Vero without being spied on.
I’m turning twenty-one in a couple of weeks, which means my father is sniping at everything while I’m home. I graduated high school with honors, completed university in three years, and it’s still not enough, because I remain unmarried. It’s not even my fault.
I go to every dinner, smile at everyone I’m supposed to smile at, yet there are whispers circulating that my father is merely paying lip service to my suitors. People are saying he’s already chosen a husband for me, but I have no idea who that might be.
So… I’m hiding from him this summer as much as I can. My freedom is disappearing at a rapid rate, and the only one who can see it is me.
Vero willingly curls up beside me, her fingers threading through mine as she sighs happily. We don’t talk about the future beyond the next day or two, it’s an unspoken rule between us. I get too upset otherwise.
“Do you want to get ice cream after this?” she asks, licking her lips as if she wants to eat me instead.
My skin pebbles with goosebumps despite her innocent words and the warm air, and I nod slowly in agreement. Outside of kisses and furtive touches, we haven’t explored much sincewe’re never alone. Even at these performances, we are very aware of how public this is.
Our home has had more security cameras added to the property, and it hasn’t escaped my notice how many are now in our garden. The noose is tightening around my throat, and some days, I can barely breathe.
The breakdowns in the shower are happening more and more often, where I scream with how much I hate my father. Once it’s done, I pack up all of my emotions and put them away to become the perfect daughter again.
I want to give Vero the best of me, since soon all she’ll have are memories of our time together. I don’t want her to see the weak mess I am when no one else is watching.
“If we have time, that sounds really good,” I admit, allowing my feet to slip out of my sandals.
She pulls me into her arms unabashedly, and I snuggle against her as the play begins. The words flow over me like a balm, familiar and beautiful as I love a lot of Shakespeare’s plays. Perhaps that’s odd at my age, but I’ve been well acquainted with impossible decisions for much of my life.
My loyalties are split between not being killed by my father and my love for Vero. I’d say that impossible is something I understand well.
