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I can’t look at him. I can’t take my eyes off Remy as the look in his eyes is like a warning. I’ve seen that look before when he’s been pushed too far, and his brutal nature takes the reins. That look spells trouble, and I find myself caught in the crossfire, a helpless moth drawn to the flame of his dark desire. He doesn’t speak, but I feel the shift in tension in the air.
My heart hammers so hard it feels like it’ll bruise my ribs.
Leo clears his throat. “I think we’ll make a Morrone out of her yet.”
The fact is, I don’t want to be a Morrone. I don’t even want to be here.
“Ella,” Remy says my name, his voice as cold as the Antarctic.
“Yes?” I squeak.
“I’m dry. Get me another drink.” He holds up the tumbler in his hand.
I hate that my nature is to do as I’m told. It always has been. And when Remy commands me, I’m powerless. My mind wants to tell him to fuck off, but my body is on autopilot.
I take the glass, but our fingers brush together, pulling an involuntary gasp from me.
A whisper of a smirk twists Remy’s lips upward, and he grabs my other hand, pulling me close.
“You, Ella, are a liar,” he purrs into my ear. “Don’t think I don’t know the truth.”
I swallow hard and step away from him when he releases my wrist.
“What did you say to her? She’s turned the color of beetroot,” Luca points out.
I walk as fast as I can away to pour him another glass of whiskey.
“It’s not important,” Remy replies.
Am I that obvious?
It’s embarrassing if it is. Remy knows that I want him.
Trying to push the thoughts away, I pour his glass and return to the table. I clear my throat instead of sitting down. “I’m not hungry. Can I go to bed now?”
“What the fuck, it’s eight o’clock! Who goes to bed that early?” Leo asks.
Remy’s jaw is clenched as he nods. “Yes, we don’t need you dragging us down and moping about here. Leave.”
The sting of his words slashes through me like a serrated knife, raw and unrefined, sending me reeling. I choke back a sob, drawing on every ounce of self-control I possess to keep the tears at bay. I can’t afford to show weakness, not in front of them.
I escape the room, the echo of their laughter following me. The tears threaten to spill over as I rush upstairs, but I blink them away fiercely. The last thing I need is for those bastards to get to me.
I slam the door to my room shut, leaning against it as a wave of despair engulfs me. My stepfamily is tormenting me. I need to get away from here, from them. The room suddenly feels too small, the walls closing in on me as I slide down the door, the tears streaming down my face.
I glance around the luxurious room that has served as my prison cell, the stark reality of my situation hitting me hard. I can’t live like this, trapped in this house with these vile people who enjoy my pain.
My mom probably wouldn’t care if I left anyway, even if she said I must marry a mobster. If I disappeared, she’d probably forget my existence entirely. The knife of pain in my chest twists harder.
There has to be a way out. There must be. I need to escape before I become more of a broken shell than when I arrived.
5
ELLA
“Please don’t leave me alone with them,” I beg, clutching Mom’s hand.
Ever since she married Remy Morrone, she’s changed for the worst. Mom was always cold and obsessed with money, but she’s become more distant. Focused on her obsession with being a socialite.
