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“The Constantines have moved on to other matters. More important matters that don’t involve my past mistakes. Nick Hudson is off licking his wounds in his Wonderland somewhere. The Sidorovs are getting what they want”—his eyes flick toward me—“and all will be good. Besides, Dylan has not only Nick’s men watching over him, but apparently my foolish niece sent a man, as well. If Nick and Sasha thought I wouldn’t find out…” He chuckles to himself as he begins texting someone.
“I just thought that since I’m here, and you and I are getting a chance to get to know each other, that Dylan would like the opportunity to as well.”
Bryant stops texting, lifts his eyes to me and smirks. “We are not getting to know each other. You are here to complete a business deal. Don’t mistake this for something it isn’t.”
His words punch at my gut, but I try to shake them off. It’s been a long trip, and I’m sure Bryant is just tired and cranky. Iknow that the way I ended up in the foyer of the Morelli mansion isn’t ideal, but surely he—
“I have work to do. Mrs. Lawson will show you to one of the guest rooms you can stay in while you’re here. I have a dinner arranged with the Sidorovs tonight, so be ready. I also have Sarah getting you some appropriate clothing. It’s been a long trip, so if you’re hungry before dinner, the chef in the kitchen can prepare something.”
The thought of seeing the Sidorovs again so quickly after I was kidnapped, tortured, and sold to the highest bidder like a piece of meat makes me sick. Bile forms in the back of my throat and my knees become weak. I want to be strong. I want to do what is expected of me as the newest member of the Morelli family. I want to impress my father with my courage, but I need the time to get the grit needed. Tonight is too soon. It’s too soon to wash the memories out of my mind.
“Do you think we could maybe do dinner with the Sidorovs tomorrow or even later this week, so we have time to rest—”
Bryant turns so fast with an open palm raised, that I have no time to cower away from the slap. He freezes moments before hitting me, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. “Don’t ever question me.”
He doesn’t yell. In fact, his voice is very low but sinister. Each syllable oozes, drips, and coats me with its menace.
“You will only be in this house for a short time. During your stay, I expect you to be seen and not heard. Are we clear?”
I swallow back my shock and nod. “Understood,” I finally choke out when I can see that Bryant is glaring at me with expectation for a reply.
“Yes, siris the correct response. Address me appropriately.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, my voice quivering as I do.
This is my father. This is the man who helped create me. I am his daughter and yet—
He turns to look at Mrs. Lawson who has remained at the foot of the stairs this entire time with zero emotion on her face. It’s as if domestic violence is normal in this household. “Take Lyriope upstairs.”
The sound of his heavy steps on expensive flooring mixes with the ringing in my ears as my body tries to process what just occurred.
Crash.
My fairy-tale vision of what it would be like if I were to ever meet my father just shattered into jagged little pieces. Fragments of hope, desires, and fantasies scattered all around.
Chapter Three
Lyriope
Ilook outthe window onto the grounds of the Morelli mansion, feeling defeated. The luscious green of the lawn lined with colorful flowers looks beautiful on the surface, but I’m starting to realize very quickly that it hides the darkness inside. The large mansion with vegetation all around has become my new home. When I was a little girl, I often wondered what it would be like to live in his house. I fantasized about having a four-post bed with a canopy and pink satin sheets. I imagined myself sitting at a vanity with all the expensive makeup I could ever want. And though my bedroom has a four-post bed, the girlish dreams are not present. Everything in this room from the dark rich woods, the floral bedding, the magnificent Persian rug, and the crystal chandelier scream wealth, but still lacks what I had envisioned. Everything feels sterile. Impersonal. But then again, this is merely a guest room.
Notmyroom.
A long stone pathway leading up to an impressive back door is flanked by security that appear ready for an attack. I can’t help but wonder if guards replacing decoration has always been this way, or if this is for my sake. Tall walls surround us, with armed men stationed in the shadows, but I don’t feel safe.
I have willingly placed myself in this palace, this fortress, this prison—all for reasons that don’t seem to be coming to fruition. But I did think I’d feel safe… at least safer than when I was on therun and in hiding from those who wanted me as a pawn in their game against the Morelli family.
Safer than when I was kidnapped by the Sidorovs at the very least, and yet—
I close my eyes briefly and try to tell my panicked consciousness that I had chosen this. This is of my own making.
Yes, the Sidorovs had put me on auction. Yes, I didn’t really have a choice in that regard… not really. But I didn’t leave Italy kicking and screaming. I didn’t resist in the slightest. To be honest, I wanted to go with Bryant and his son. A part of me was thrilled that my father fought so hard to get me. I felt needed, wanted, and… acknowledged as a Morelli in Italy.
Finally.
But the dream is starting to feel… distorted.
He did almost hit me. Almost.
