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2
Isabella
“Miss Romani, it’s getting late. Maybe we should think about going back home?” Dominic says, his eyes constantly filtering the crowd of people in the mall’s food court.
It’s empty, today, although the mall usually is during the week. My father’s not keen on me venturing far from home on weekends. Hordes and groups make you an easy target, a favorite saying in the Romani household. Lately, though, I’ve felt safer out here as an easy target than I do in my own home.
I’m just a toy in my father’s games; a tool to use, to further alliances, and to strengthen his hold on his crown. I saw it with Vik, and every minute I’m locked inside, I ponder the next venture, and how I’ll be used in that.
We finished our meals a little while, before. Dominic got himself a burger and I had a plate of fries. This is usually when I’d be ready to head home, bags and belly full of junk.
“What’s got you so nervous, Dom?” I ask. I lazily scan the stragglers walking aimlessly through the shopping center beyond the food court’s boundaries. Mothers and their children, single men walking with determination…
How easy are their lives? Not necessarily financially, but they don’t have to deal with any of the family business. By day, they work, by night, they’re with loved ones. There’s no scheming and plotting an inevitable future of torture and deceit.
If I could trade my life for theirs, I probably would. Those are my roots, after all. We’re Romani gypsies, with a name to match. We’re not meant to stay in one place, and the Romani have been settled in Hannibal for far too long. My father might’ve forgotten where he came from, but being on the move calls to me, always beckoning me to get on the road and disappear. Today here, tomorrow there, for eternity and beyond.
“Nothing, I just don’t want there to be something,” Dominic says, slurping up the last of his soda.
After being fed to Vik on a silver platter, the idea of running away has only become more alluring. Life, under Dominic’s watchful eye, is not one I can live much longer. Even outside of my father’s palace, I’m a prisoner. Dominic, bless him, is a watchdog, obediently following instructions. There’s only one way for me, and that’s out.
However, I know that trying to enact my plan doesn’t come without its own problems. I’d need to be smart, to act fast and I must never look back. That’s what these shopping excursions have become, since that night; gathering resources and supplies, so that if it comes down to it, I’ll be gone in a flash.
Thinking about Vik again makes my meal sit uneasy in my belly. Maddox’s arrival was always part of the plan, I later learned. But, what if he had been late? The feeling and image of Vik’s sweaty, heavy body crushing me is burned into my memory. A tarnished reminder of my worth in the grand scheme of things. He was so close to taking me. To forcing himself on me. Replacing my innocence with desperation, perversion, and hatred. Bile rises to the back of my throat, and I swallow hard, trying to settle myself.
I don’t want there to be something. It’s too late for that. The die is cast.
“What do you think’s going to happen? No one would be stupid enough to attack Isabella Romani. Especially not after all the celebrations the other night,” I reply, once my nausea passes.
“Isn’t that the perfect time to make a move?” Dominic shrugs.
“Why would anyone from the three families have reason to move on their king?”
Dom doesn’t answer right away. He gives me a longing stare, showing his discomfort for our still sitting around in the thin plastic chairs of the food court.
“They don’t, but it’s not always about the three families alone. Vik’s men aren’t going to be happy with his corpse washing up in the mud of the Mississippi. It’s obvious that it was us who did it. I’m just trying to look out for you, Miss Romani. Preparation and avoidance are better than trying to cure something.” Dominic sighs and gets up from his chair.
Those words hit harder than they ought to. I was so lost in daydreaming of escape or purging Vik from my head that I never considered the backlash. Of what might come, if anything, I should leave a sobering prompt. That I’m not a fool for wanting to run.
The life my father leads is not for me, and escaping it early is better than staying and falling in harm’s way, again. Dominic’s right; but, not about staying out too late. Preventing any further danger and hassle is better than trying to cure it later on.
“Okay, okay, let’s go home,” I get out of my chair, grabbing the trash from our meal. I take it over to a trashcan, and toss it in one piece at a time, delaying the return if only for a little longer.
That’s when I see him, during an unmethodical glare at the crowd of lucky people, far removed from my life. I would have missed him if I’d have blinked; Maddox Braddock, walking among the stragglers. His unmistakable features, full-black suit, and his stoic and steady demeanor.
I turn to face him, or rather the mirage of a man. After another look, I am stunned to realize he’s not there. Why would I even care if he was? Maddox is my father’s lapdog; he’s nothing about me…
Yet, although I felt nervous at thinking I saw him, my heart drops when he’s gone.
Stop being an idiot. I shrug it off. Of course I’m going to think about him in a time of need. He helped me out of a bad situation, and as I am still in one, my mind’s playing tricks on me. I’m picturing the person who saved me, in hopes that he might do it again. That’s all.
I catch up to Dominic. He’s already clutching my day’s shopping in one hand, while the other fidgets through his pocket for the Escalade’s keys.
“Ready to go?” Dominic asks.
“Sure,” I reply. But, before we walk off, I throw one more overhead glance at the crowd behind. Maybe, I’ll see him again, standing there, Maddox Braddock. I don’t even know why I want to. Like Dominic, he’d probably kick me back into my father’s arms, if I ever did run. But Maddox is still nowhere to be seen. Only those forlorn faces, going about their evening shopping.
