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"How can I be sure who it is if you don’t tell me who you are? Not like I can recognize your voice or anything, you know."
"Is that right?" His tone is almost lazy now.
Like he’s realized I’m playing a game and has decided to go along with it. My belly twists. I rub my damp hands on my thighs. Why the hell did I decide to stop him from coming in? I should have known it would be futile, that nothing I say or do will deter him.
The door creaks again and pushes against the coffee table, which moves forward by an inch.
"Oh, hell!" I race toward the coffee table and push against the door to hold it in place. Something slams into the door from the other side again. The doorframe shudders, the bolt across the door shivers, and the coffee table moves forward by another inch. I yelp and take a step back.
"Don't fucking make me wait, Aurora," Christian growls.
I shiver. Even through the heavy wood of the double doors, the menace rolls off of his voice. Goosebumps pop on my skin. My toes curl. Shit, this should not turn me on so much.
That… that mean edge to his tone, the promise of punishment when he finally gets through... I shouldn’t want it so much.
"Last chance, Aurora. Open the door or—"
"Or," I call out, "what are you going to do, eh?"
"Do you really want to find out?" He lowers his voice to a hush, but I can still hear him. "Do you, Aurora?"
Yes.
Yes.
"No," I yell back. "I’m tired of being kept a prisoner here. Tired of being held without anyone telling me how long I’m going to be here."
There’s silence for a beat, then another.
"It’s why I’ve come here," he retorts, "to tell you what’s going to happen next."
"Do you think I’m going to believe you?"
"I hope you’re standing clear, Aurora," he says in a low-pitched voice. "I’m coming through."
I straighten and stare at the door. He’s joking. He’s not really going to batter down that door, is he?
"Get back, Aurora," he growls. "Now!"
I jump and stumble back just as he smashes into the door. The wood creaks and groans. The coffee table I’ve wedged against the door screeches forward. I yelp and slide back a few more steps. Just in time. For there’s another crash.
The entire door whines, and the bolt jumps then falls off right before the middle of the door cracks.
I scream, turn and race toward the bedroom, then close the door and bolt it. I sink down against it, and my shoulders shudder.
Shit, shit, shit. What is wrong with me? Why did I try to shut him out? I should have known I couldn’t win, that he’d find a way to come inside. But the truth is, I’m tired of sitting here in this house, trying to figure out what will happen to me next. Tired of not knowing my fate. Tired of being punished for helping out my friend Karma. She wanted to escape her husband, the then Capo—now Don Michael Sovrano—and of course, I couldn’t say no to helping her.
I knew how dangerous it was to do so. To go against the leader of theCosa Nostrais to bring death to yourself and to your family… I knew it, and yet, something in me wasn’t able to turn her down. I recognized another woman in need, and something in me snapped.
Maybe it’s all the time spent as a woman in the heart of the Mafia. Knowing that we are often seen as disposable. Interchangeable. Good only to procreate, as wives, as mistresses, as objects to be lusted after, but never respected as individuals with our own minds, who can control our own destinies.
And you know what? I, sure as hell, am going to control my future… At least, that’s what I thought… That’s what I had aimed for during all of my years growing up. And while the Capo had paid off my father’s debts and paid for me to go to medical school in London, and I had accepted it then because it seemed like the only way to find my way out of the situation that I was born into—I don’t owe him anything. Right?
Clearly, he’d done it so he could indenture my family, ensure that he’d bought our loyalty and that of any future generations. Only, I’m not going to submit to my fate.
It’s this streak of defiance in me that had urged me to help Karma. I had treated her when she’d been brought into the hospital in Palermo. She’d been faking the illness, of course, as she’d warned me she would. I had examined her, nevertheless, so the situation would appear as genuine as possible, and discovered that she was pregnant.
I hadn’t been able to stop myself from revealing that to her husband. We had returned to her room and found her gone… And the Capo would have killed me on the spot except... His brother, Christian, had intervened. He’d saved my life that day, and I suppose I should be grateful for it.
