AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She pries my hand from her mouth, one finger at a time, and shrugs. “Luca said you disappeared with someone for a while at his birthday party.”
“I had a cigarette,” I half-lie, clenching my jaw. I’m going to end up killing Luca, too, one of these days. “Would I do that if I were pregnant?”
“Maybe the baby-making came after?”
“No!” Huffing, I launch myself backward on the bed. The frame shifts, creaking under the sudden weight. “God, if I tell you who it is, will youshut up?”
“I make no promises.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I close my eyes and envision his perfect face, the sharp contour of his cheekbones, and the harshness in his gray eyes that makes my stomach somersault. “Elia Montalto.”
Silence beats down around us, thick in the air. Suffocating. I roll to my side and prop my head on my hand; Juliet stares at the ceiling, unmoving. Pressing my finger beneath her nose to check her breathing, she snorts and shoves me away, finally coming to life.
“Sorry, I thought for a second I’d died and gone to Heaven. It sounded like you said you’re getting married to a mafia boss.”
I don’t say anything.
“What the hell? Daddy tried to pawn you off on dozens of men, but you pick the most powerful one in the entire state of Maine? Are you insane, or do you have a death wish?”
A little of both.
“I don’t know, Jules, it just kind of… happened. It was an impulsive decision, but there were no other determining factors, I swear.” My heart presses painfully against my chest at the lie, hating that I can’t sit and explain how my decision protects her. How I wish I didn’t have to marryanyoneand that our father would just keel over, but I can’t.
Not yet.
“Well, all right.” She shakes her head, twirling a lock of hair around her index finger, lost in thought. “Can I at least be a witness in the ceremony?”
“It’s not going to be anything super special, you know. Just us at the courthouse.”
“I know. I’m okay with that. Youdoneed witnesses for that, right? You won’t cut me out of that part of your life, too?”
Tears well in her eyes, and I grind my teeth together, wishing she knew why I hide myself. Wishing I could confide insomeone. But telling her risks her safety, and I won’t let our father get her, too. Elia promised he’d make her off-limits. I’m sure that involves the exchange of money in some capacity, but if it means my dad doesn’t get to touch her, I don’t give a shit.
Up until I hit puberty, Juliet and I were connected at the hip, our souls intertwined and inseparable. Only three years younger than me, she was the closest person I was allowed in my life, and she mirrored everything I did. It felt good to be able to go through things first, like I was conquering demons and showing her how to handle them.
In the years since my father started dragging me around with him for appearance purposes, we’ve grown apart. My allegations of abuse, pleas I made with my mother to open her eyes and see reality, went unheard, and Juliet always sided with them. She never knew any better.
Distancing yourself from the people who are supposed to show you unconditional love is hard when the evidence is covered up.
Eventually, an invisible wedge formed between us; me instead just trying to shelter her from the pain I endured at our father’s hand, her acting out any way possible.
My best friend Liv says I have a hero complex, that I want to save those around me, even if that means sacrificing myself in the process.
Juliet calls me a martyr.
Neither of them knows the truth.
I lean down and wrap my arm around Juliet’s waist, pulling her slight body into mine. Laying my head on her shoulder, I tap my fingers on her side. “Of course, you can be there. I can’t imagine it without you.”
We meet my father at the airport when he arrives home. He’slividwhen he sees me; news in D.C. must really travel fast. His face turns beet red, jaw tightens, and he grips my bicep harshly, fingernails ripping into my skin through the long-sleeved t-shirt I have on. It’s early, and my mother and Juliet have gone to grab coffee, so there’s no one around.
But it’s not the abuse I focus on—not this time.
Over a week has passed since the last time I saw Elia, and my nerves are starting to get the best of me. I gave him my number, so why hasn’t he called or texted? On my end, it’s been complete and utter silence, as though he forgot who I am or rescinded his proposal.
The thought of being sold to someone else makes me nauseous. The prenuptial agreement I got in the mail yesterday with a note reminding me of our court date did little to appease my fears.
Even as my father shoves me up against the wall in an isolated corner of the airport, his hand curling around my throat in a grip meant to rob me of all my air, my brain is on Elia—wondering what he's doing and who he’s doing it with. Jealousy prickles low in my belly, fierce and unwarranted.
