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I rub my palm along my chest, placing it over my beating heart as if I can wipe away the memory or somehow convince myself it didn’t happen.
I’ve never had a man hit me and get away with it. My mother had many men who tried, but if they ever laid a hand on me, Dylan would attack with a vengeance, and my mother would always step in. As selfish as that woman could be, she wouldn’t tolerate another man hitting her children. It was a deal breaker, and many deals would be broken as she kicked out one asshole after another for daring to abuse me or Dylan.
I owe her for that. I appreciate the boundary she formed.
And yet… am I possibly destroying that boundary by allowing my own father to come as close as he did to hitting me? Does he hit any of his other children? Is that the man Bryant Morelli is, or is it simply because it wasmestanding there speaking out of turn?
My ribs grow tight, restricting my breath. Did I just give up one nightmare only to get into a worse one?
Sighing deeply, I struggle to hold my head high. I have to keep telling myself over and over that this was my choice. Nick was there in Italy willing to do whatever it took to have me go where I wanted to. And I had chosen this. To enter the Morelli mansion with my father by my side. The pity party needs to end. Nick told me over and over again that I’m a motherfucking queen. I need to start acting the part.
I’m not stupid, however. Going in, I’d known it would be hard. But I did expect at least a little something from the man who had traveled across the world to fight for me to be with him and not anyone else. A few questions. A few answers. Something.
The door of my room flies open with Sasha storming in with the largest smile and a ray of sunshine beaming around her. “You’re back!”
Trailing Sasha is the butler dragging in two racks of clothes of various colors and fabrics.
Sasha runs forward with open arms and gives me a big hug. “And you’re here! I finally get to have you here. Family. Out in the open. My cousin. We don’t have to sneak around any longer.”
I can’t help but allow her happiness and joy to wash over me, squashing all the dark thoughts forming only seconds before. I haven’t seen Sasha since she helped me escape Nick and run off to Italy impersonating her. Seeing her makes me realize just how much I missed this person standing before me. She’s the one Morelli that has truly made me feel like I’m not a piece of trash from day one. She’s been my rock—my gem.
“I knew this would all work out eventually,” she says, pulling away to take a good look at me. “Italy treated you well. You’re beaming.”
I don’t want to tell her that I’m not sure anything has worked out exactly, but she doesn’t give me a chance when she walks over to the racks and helps the butler pull them in the room all the way.
“Sarah called me and said that Bryant wanted clothes to be bought for you. All he told her was that you looked like me in appearance and size,” Sasha says, glancing over her shoulder at me. “Which is true, so she passed the buck to me to handle it. Which of course I don’t mind in the slightest. I love a good shopping spree—even under a time limit.”
“You bought me clothes? These are for me?” I scan the clothing hung in an orderly line, some of them in garment bags, and then notice the butler leave for a brief moment only to reach for bags outside the door to add to the collection.
“I bought you all kinds of dresses, pants, blouses, undergarments, shoes and so on. We’ll still have to go shopping for more, but this will at least get you started,” she rattles off as she begins pulling out items from the bags and spreading them out on the bed. “And it’s a good thing that Sarah called me. I have a feeling she’d have you dressing like a middle-aged woman past her prime. I, however, got you the cutest things. You’re going to love them. I like them so much that I may have to steal some for myself.” She laughs, spins on her heels to look at me proudly. “I’m so happy you’re here. We’re going to have so much fun.”
It dawns on me that I don’t have any of my belongings. I literally left Italy with only the clothing on my back. As odd as it is to have racks of clothing in front of me, it isn’t the first time I’ve had a wardrobe picked out for me by someone else. The memory of Nick doing this for me not only when he first kidnapped me, but when we were in Italy brings back the sinking feeling of sadness I had moments before Sasha walked into my bedroom.
My thoughts must be obvious on my face because Sasha says, “Hey, none of that. I’m here to cheer you up. Not make you sad.”
I feel like I’m wandering a maze of unknowns. It’s suffocating. But if anyone can help me find the way out, it’s Sasha.
“It’s not you,” I reassure her. “It’s just been a lot lately and—”
“Which is why we’re going to have a blast now that you’re here. I missed you while you were in Italy, and we have lots to catch up on.”
I nod as I walk to the clothing rack and begin examining all the clothing Sasha picked out. I have no doubt I will love every stylish outfit she selected for me. Even now, Sasha exudes perfect style. Dressed casually—for her—I still know her jeans and tank cost more than an average person’s rent. She smells of wealth, but at the same time class. We may look alike, but I wonder if I can ever carry myself with the same level of sophistication. I pick up a dress that is black with sequins that shimmers beneath the lights of the room and can’t help but wonder if I can pull off a dress like this.
“I picked that one out specifically for Wonderland this weekend since you’ll be attending with me.”
Her words stab my heart, another reminder of Nick and what I no longer have.
“And before you argue, I’m not going to take no for an answer. He, as well as everyone, needs to see you aren’t the weak woman who’s just being tossed around from one situation to another. You’re a Morelli, and we need to get you out there as exactly that. You’re starting a new life and hiding out is not the way to get acknowledged in the social circles.”
“I don’t care about the social circles.”
“Well… you better start. You want to be a Morelli? Social circles come with that.”
“I’m not going to be a Morelli for long. I was promised to the Sidorovs. An arranged marriage—” I have to cut off my ownwords because they feel toxic on my tongue. The acid is going to sizzle the flesh if I continue on.
Sasha wrinkles her nose. “I heard about that. I heard that Lucian was telling someone about that stupid auction and all that happened. Which is just barbaric. But regardless, you’ll always be a Morelli, whomever you marry. These kinds of marriages happen all the time between powerful people.” She shrugs. “You don’t have to share a room or even the same house with the man. You wouldn’t be the first married couple in Bishop’s Landing that don’t speak.”
I don’t say anything as I’m in shock that this seems so acceptable… normal.
