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Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I had been born to any other family. Would I be treated like a valued family member? Or would I just be in another prison? Sometimes I look out from the window seat in my bedroom at the bustling street below, seeing families. Father’s holding their little girl’s hand, or mother’s cradling their son in their arms. It’s so abnormal to me that I have to wonder if they’re doing it for show.
At the same time, I know that’s crazy. My family isn’t normal. We’re the strange ones. And I will never escape it, short of death. And as sad as it is, I know there are far worse off people. I may not know much about how the outside world works, but I did live with my family for my first eighteen years. Which means, I know far more about the family business than they realize. The benefit of being ignored is I’ve learned to be invisible. My father and brothers would forget about me and discuss things in the open. So I know all about their activities. Something I’ve been very careful to keep as secret as possible so they don’t have a reason to kill me.
I move to the bathtub and start to fill it, putting in a small amount of bubble bath and Epsom salts. I put the ice pack down and wait as it fills, looking around the room. Most would love a bathroom like this. It’s stark white with marble tiles and vanity, and a luxurious shower that has all the fancy jets. And yet, as I look at it, I can’t help but feel like it’s bare. Cold. Nothing like I would want. But there’s no point in wishing for anything. I need to focus on the now, and keeping my wits about me.
As I lower myself into the bath, I barely hold back a gasp at the feel of the heat on my ribs and stomach. Still, after another moment of adjustment, it settles and I lay my head back against the small pillow I have set there, closing my eyes. And as much as I try to push them back, my emotions fight to rise to the surface. The anger at them all, the desperation to have something change, and the utter loneliness that is my life.
I have no friends, and never have. I was never allowed to have someone to talk to, even when I was young. I tried to talk to my mother before her death, to my governess, to the staff, but they all ignored me, knowing exactly what would happen if they didn’t. So I finally just stopped, finding my escape in the books and magazines I was allowed to have. And even now, that’s still all I have. I don’t exist on anything outside of my family’s knowledge, so how can I have friends? What would I say? And fear has always kept me from attempting to break the rules to find it out. Still, it’s a dream that one day I will be able to find someone to talk to. I just have to hope that whoever they are, are kind and not someone that my father has married me off to.
I know that my father will eventually tire of me, of the money he spends on me. Instead, he’ll either kill me, or sell me off to the highest bidder. I’ll become a bargaining chip, and just be trading one prison for another. I’m sure there are some men out there that are decent and would treat me kindly, but knowing my father, and even my uncle, they would want someone with power and connections to grow their empire. Meaning men like them. Someone to marry without argument from me. Become nothing more than a vessel for their heirs.
As much as the world around us wants to believe we’re progressive, there are still so many stuck in the old ways I doubt I will ever know anything else. The only way I’ll know of a different world is through my books. Even the steamy romances I’ve discovered. No one pays attention to the books I read, but I’m still careful about my choices.They wouldn’t want me to get ideas in my head, after all. No dreams for Gia, I think bitterly.
I wonder if this is how my mother felt before she died. Did she wonder what her life would become? Giving birth to a girl in my family is the cardinal sin. They want men, boys they can train to take over the business, to make it grow and secure ties with other families around the world. Women are for nothing more than sex and to look good on their arms at important social functions. I’ve always wondered why none of my brothers have married yet, but I’m sure my father has specific brides picked out for them. I shudder to think about who those poor women might be, and what they might suffer.
Then again, they could be like Carmen, my step-mother. Carmen is a chameleon and she knows exactly when to change her reactions and mannerisms to fit the situation. Not to mention, she’s cold and calculating. Maybe that’s why she’s stuck around for so long, despite not giving my father any more children. She’s still young, only early thirties now, and she knows how to act around my father and brothers, but doesn’t shy away from inserting herself when she feels it necessary. My father indulges her because she’s the daughter of one of the bosses in Italy. Someone that my father does not want to piss off. Still, I saw her shoot one of the staff because she felt disrespected, and no one blinked. My father had someone clean up the mess and continued on his way.
She’s never liked me. She took one look at me, and hatred filled her eyes and she worked at getting me out. I didn’t fight her, agreeing when my Father brought it up. I think she hated me because I am the image of my mother, and I was standing in her way. Like she thought I would convince others to treat her badly. It’s laughable, but I will never dare to say such a thing out loud.
I sigh, opening my eyes. I’ve sulked enough, and I don’t want to think anymore. I need to get something to eat and go to bed. It’s getting late, and tomorrow begins my months-long sentence. I climb out of the bath, drying off and going through my skincare routine. At least Father feels I should look my best, and he supplies me with everything I could need. I know it’s only so I can look my best for whoever will eventually marry me, but I love the routine and products just the same.
When I finish, I drain the tub, clean it carefully, and then head to my bedroom, wrapped in my simple black robe. God, I’m tired, and I hope I fall asleep fast. Maybe when I wake up in the morning I’ll feel better.
That is my last thought, before I feel a hand slide over my mouth and a sharp prick in my neck. I try to scream, but my vision starts to swim. My body falls towards the floor, and I am completely paralyzed. Arms grip me before I land, and the last thing I see is blue eyes staring back at me.
Who is he? What does he want? What is my father going to think when he discovers me gone? Or will he even care? Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t.
Darkness pulls me under and all my thoughts vanish.
CHAPTER5
Nico
I’mboth satisfied she’s finally here, but infuriated at the same time that she was seen this way. In nothing more than a tiny little robe, bare flesh on display. If it hadn’t been Dante, I would have killed the bastard who got to touch her. No one was to look at her. She was mine, and that meant no eyes but mine will get to see any part of her from now on.
I watch her through the camera that I installed in her suite, and I can see her luscious hair spread out on the pillow. She looks like a doll, her full lips parted ever so slightly as she sleeps, and dark sheets covering her body. I had the doctor examine her immediately after she arrived. Aside from her bruising, he declared her perfectly healthy, stating she should wake up by morning.
I’m impatient. To see her reaction to her new home. To find out her name. Still, I’m a man of much control, and I don’t move from my seat. Instead, I force myself to look away from the camera and back to Dante, who is watching me expectantly. “You weren’t seen?” I ask.
“No,” he replies simply. “I had our men make sure nothing would show up on the cameras.”
“And there was nothing in her apartment that could tell us who she is?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “The only things that might have given it away are her phone or laptop, but they’re locked down tight. They’re with our team now.”
I narrow my eyes at that. Well that’s surprising, and speaks to the fact that whoever she is, she is either very good with computers, or she’s got someone in her back pocket. “And you saw no evidence of a man in the apartment?” Not that I care. If a man is stupid enough to let someone else take what’s his, he’s not much of a man at all, and he’s also not worthy of her.
“There were a couple of drinking glasses on the bar that looked like they were recently used, but she doesn’t strike me as the hard liquor type,” Dante says after a moment’s thought. “But if a man lives there, nothing that shows it. I only found women’s clothes in the closet, and the bed looked more feminine.”
Another piece to add to the puzzle. My little mouse is a mystery. Now onto the more pressing question. “How did she get the split lip and the bruises?” I ask Dante, watching him carefully. I won’t hesitate to kill him if he touched what’s mine, even if she fought back.
He holds up his hands and says, “Wasn’t me. She was like that when I got there. Saw an icepack on the vanity in the bathroom, so it seems like they are recent.”
Anger burns in my blood at the thought that someone hurt her. Marred her perfect skin, and busted her full lip. I want to find them and slowly cut the skin from their bones. Make them beg for mercy. Soon enough, though, I’ll know. Because I’ll be asking her as soon as she’s awake. “I want to know what’s on those cameras,” I order Dante. “I want to know who left that place and when.”
“The team is on it,” Dante assures me. “We’ll know the answer soon. Perhaps that will help us figure out who she is.” I nod, but before I can give him any further instructions, his phone rings and he pulls it out. “It’s the hacking team,” he announces, swiping his finger across the screen to answer the call. “Boss is here, so tell us what we need to know.”
There’s only a brief pause before a male voice fills the room, and I recognize it as Louis, one of my longest standing hackers. “We have the information you were looking for, Sir. The computer has a special software on it, and we’ve traced it back to a man by the name of Martin Lee. He’s a well known hacker, and he’s employed by the De Luca Family to do their computer security work. Anything you don’t want found, Martin is your guy to make sure it happens.”
