Page 22 of Lust


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She never was.

Again and again, until my knuckles are bloody and my throat is sore from yelling.

She belongs to him.

23

Milana

The house is quiet when I arrive. My mother must be sleeping, and I assume my father is still at the casino. If I were him, I wouldn’t want to show my face around here.

Rushing up the stairs, I grab my suitcase from the closet. Fuck all this. I’m getting the hell out of here.And he’ll kill your father. Your mother.

My father made his bed. He can be the one to lie in it. Not me. And surely, Stefano would take pity on my mother.

I toss my clothes in as quickly as I can, desperate to go. Desperate to escape. This cannot be my fate. Stefano Morretti is a coldhearted, manipulative man. He only cares about himself.

“Sweetheart? Do you want me to help you pack?”

I turn around, facing my mother standing in my doorway. She wants to help me pack. Like all of this is normal.

“Do you love my father?”

She joins me, sitting down beside me. “I learned to. Being part of this family is not easy, my dear. But you are part of it, and there’s no going back.”

“But I can’t do this.”

“You can, and you will. Stefano Moretti can provide you a great life. Besides, you’re a strong, intelligent woman. You are a Genovese. We aren’t defeated easily.”

I rest my head on her shoulder, letting her rub my back the way she did when I was a girl. It used to make me feel as though everything was going to be okay. Not this time.

“No, I don’t want this.”

“I know. I wish there was something I could do. Some way I could change this for you. Your father…your father is ambitious and has plans. You were always part of those plans. We have to trust him.”

He’s told me this over and over. To trust him. After tonight, I simply can’t do that. I rise and grab the suitcase, ignoring my mother’s stricken look and protests.

“I’m not fucking doing this.”

If Salvatore had won me for himself, perhaps I would consider it. I’m already infatuated with him. He already knows every inch of my body. But Stefano? I can’t.

“Good. You’re already packed,” my father says, stepping inside before I can make my escape.

“Yes, but not for the Moretti estate. I’m leaving.”

I attempt to push past him. He strong-arms me, shoving me back. If he thinks I’m going willingly, he’s dead wrong.

“ You cannot make me do this!” I fight against my father, trying my damnedest to get past him and down the stairs. If I can make it outside, I can be free. At least, that’s what I try to convince myself. I claw at him, scratching his face. Beat my fists against his chest, kick his shins and knees. Undeterred, he manhandles me, keeping me from escaping.

“Take her suitcase,” he instructs the butler.

“No! If you want Stefano Moretti so badly, you go fuck him!”

The slap my father delivers sends me to my knees. Pain explodes through my eye. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth. Without much effort, my father jerks me to my feet, tosses me over his shoulder, and makes his way down the stairs.

Coming back to my senses, I start fighting again. I slam my fists into his back and pull at his hair, screaming like a mad woman. He throws me to the floor, the impact knocking the breath from me.

“Stop this nonsense, Milana!” he yells, and tears roll down my cheeks.

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