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21
Nicoletta
My heart will give out any second now. There's just no way I can handle this much pain and heartbreak. It fucking hurts to breathe. My chest feels like it's about to explode with everything that's happened today.
The memory of Papa's body going down will haunt me for the rest of my life. The moment he died keeps replaying in my head like a broken record, and there's nothing I can do to stop it.
Two guards drag me into the Bernardi dungeons and my life falls apart in front of my very eyes. Papa, the only man I've ever trusted, has been ripped away from me, killed for his past crimes. And now I'm all that's left – but judging by Ryder's thunderous gaze, he will never look at me the same way again. My life as a pampered mafia princess is over. But instead of going back to the poor servant I used to be, I'm now doomed to be a captive, a prisoner. After all, I've betrayed the Bernardis, and they're the most influential mafia famiglia on this damn island.
The cell they put me in is cold and looks like something out of a medieval movie. There's a rickety old bed, a sink, and a stained toilet that makes me shiver, all in the same tiny space, with no privacy whatsoever. A tiny, barred window is above me and some light streams through, illuminating the darkness. There are more bars on one end of the cell, separating me from two guards who look at me with a mix of desire and hatred.
Pacing the room, I run my hands through my hair. I'm still in my wedding dress, but it's stained with blood and dirt now, serving as a reminder that I'll never be a married woman, not now.
I pull pearl pins from my hair and carefully place them on the bed. Maybe Ryder will want them back, I'm sure they're worth a fortune. But he probably wants nothing to do with me, at least not now that he's found out my biggest secret.
Tears burn the back of my eyes and I do my best to swallow the cry that threatens to rip itself from my lips. Shaking, I sit down on the cold hard ground, layers of tulle and ivory lace surrounding me. I close my eyes and start to count, an old trick that used to help me when I was panicking. But I'm beyond help now, and not even the oldest trick in the book can manage to calm me down.
Nobody visits me that day. A couple of hours after bringing me into the dungeon, a guard tosses a stale, half-eaten sandwich into my cell along with an empty plastic water bottle. I fill the bottle up with shaky hands at the sink and drink in long, thirsty gulps. As unappetizing as the sandwich looks, I'm hungry as hell after eating less and less to look perfect on my wedding day. I take a few bites but it's repulsive, so I wrap it back up to the best of my abilities and leave it by the bed. I'm assuming this will be my only meal of the night.
The tiny window above me is the only sign of time passing. Night falls. The two guards change shifts with two other men, who are even more obvious with their ogling. They whistle at me and joke around about me as if I'm not even there. But nevertheless, I force myself to hold my head high and not acknowledge their mockery.
I lie on the bed and wait for sleep to pull me under, but I'm so afraid of what the guards might do to me, I can't catch a wink of rest. Finally, when another shift is over and the nicer men come back, I allow myself a few hours of restless sleep.
There's no way for me to know what's going to happen to me, but a clue arrives later the next day, when the sun is high in the sky again.
I hear the click-clack of high-heeled shoes and a woman appears in front of my cell with a self-satisfied smirk on her pretty, painted face. Livia really is beautiful, but I hate her with every last fiber in my body. Perhaps I shouldn't blame her for getting thrown in here. Perhaps I should blame Papa. But I can't help hating the woman who took everything from me.
Livia smirks and rattles the bars of my prison cage, making me sit up on the lower bunk bed. I hiss, "What do you want?"
"Careful, little girl." Her eyes shoot daggers at me as she motions for me to come closer. "You'd better act nicer around me from now on. I could get you into a world of trouble."
What could possibly be worse than this? Maybe death would be a welcome blessing, a way to escape my sorry life.
