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“You. Are. Mine.” he growls, searing me with his gaze.
“No. I’m really not. That show of male dominance out there doesn’t prove anything. I’m not some plaything to be used and toyed with between the three of you. This isn’t just some sick game you can play with me. I’m not a joke. I’m not a prank. I’m not going to break just because you give me a little attention. You have to stop.”
“Are you serious right now? You think this is all some fucking joke? You are mine, not for a prank, not as a show for the idiots at this school. You are meant for me, Cohen and Noah. Just you fucking wait, you’ll see.” He all but yells at me before he abruptly turns and stomps out of the room.
“What the fuck was that?” I whisper. Putting my face in my hands as I try to regain some of my good sense.
“That, my love, was your man holding back from tearing this place down brick by brick after your little display of disobedience.” I peek through my fingers and see Cohen posted up against the doorway, with his arms crossed over his chest. Scrubbing my hands up and down my face in exasperation before giving him my full attention.
“Look Q, you may not fully understand everything that’s going on yet but I think you have the right to know. Come your eighteenth birthday, you are due to be wed to Matteo. It was a deal made long ago by your great grandfather in order to marry the love of his life. When you were kidnapped, I think new deals were made but everything changed again when everyone lost their minds over you being found. Everything is up in the air but once he found out about the marriage clause, he’s been determined to make you his. To make you ours. It’s like something snapped in him and he was finally allowed to show us all his affection for you.”
I look up at Cohen in horror, registering everything he just said. He lifts my chin and places the most gentle of kisses to my mouth. My desire for him turns into dread, then morphs into disgust and indignation.
“Don’t you even dare fucking touch me after telling me all that depraved and repulsive information. I’m not an item to be given away or sold! I swear to god, if you are fucking with me-” He grasps my hands, holding me tight.
“I’m not, I swear. You belong to us. It has something to do with combining the territories when we all come of age. I think you need to talk to your grandfather. He’s the one who’s been trying to renegotiate the deals. If this doesn’t happen though, there will be an all-out war. Alessandra, he’sla Don.Do you know what that means?”My eyes widen in sheer terror as I nod.
“He’s the biggest mafioso on the west coast.”
Chapter Twelve
Alessandra
Ever since Cohen dropped all of those bombs on me, I’ve felt myself falling back into old patterns and keeping everyone at arm's length. It’s instinct to shut down and become numb to my emotional state so that I don’t act irrationally. I have to think logically, not reactively, which is easier said than done. So here I am. I haven’t talked to anyone. My mom and SB have tried but I’m so angry with both of them, I can’t even stand to look at them. It’s been difficult, but as a result of holding back and not yelling at them and throwing accusations around, I’ve given them the silent treatment.
The betrayal burns deep through me when I think of all of the conversations we’ve had and neither one of them bothered to tell me anything. I know to an extent, I shut down communication on all things emotional with mom, but this is a pretty big something to just leave out of a conversation. It’s a very important thing that directly impacts me, so you’d think there wouldn’t be any beating around the bush.
Both of them hold a sickening amount of knowledge on me and my family history. They had to know something and yet they chose to say nothing. The guys have all tried to talk to me, but I don’t have the energy to fight with them right now. I feel like I went from one real life horror story to another, but this one is masked as a fairytale.
Well, I’m no fucking Cinderella and I don’t want a Prince Charming. Or three Prince Charming’s, as things stand. This is like the Grimm fairytale version or some shit, and it sucks.
Instead, I’ve focused on my studies. I passed midterms with flying colors. Thanks to extra credit and the MMA club after school counting towards my GPA I’m now sitting at the top of my class with a four point two GPA. I’m not gonna lie, it felt amazing to knock Avery off of her pedestal after the shit she pulled. I didn’t even have to get my hands dirty to get back at her. I’m in her head. She thinks I’ve stolen her men - no freaking thank you. She knows I’ve taken away her spot for head of class. Two of the most important things to her. At this rate, she’ll drive herself crazy and I won’t have to do a damn thing. I mean, I’m still going to ruin her, but this definitely makes my job easier.
I’ve got mysadeyesplaylist streaming through my bluetooth speakers as I lay on my bed and search through my Kindle app for something to read. I either need something with a happy ending or something dark and dirty and downright evil. Both of which are my life, but I have no idea if I’ll still get the happily ever after that I've been dreaming of my whole life. I’ve been fighting my whole life to escape to something better. I foolishly thought after coming here that this would be that escape.
I finally got the mom, the best friend, the house and a school that challenges me in all of the ways that I need. I have full access to a gym and I get to fight because I enjoy it. For the first time I’m not fighting for my life, for food or to pay off Lauren’s drug debt. What a joke. How could I let myself become so naive?
I need a plan. I need to get out of here. I won’t marry anyone unless it’s because I want to; because I’m genuinely in love. And I’ll do it on my own terms if I ever do it at all. I’m not exactly a believer in all things heart and flowers. I don’t think romance is real life and I think love is for people who want to con themselves into the idea that falling hopelessly in love equates to happily ever after.
What ever happened to women doing it by their damn selves and creating their own perfect existence? Men will come and go. Lust is always going to be an exciting feeling, but what about the feeling of accomplishment instead. Orgasms are probably great and all, but what about loving yourself enough to do anything and everything you set your mind to? I can always give myself orgasms anyway.
All in all, it’ll be a hard fucking sell to get me to marry anyone. I most definitely won’t accept an arranged marriage. This isn’t the eighteen hundreds for fucks sake. How is it fair that my great grandpa gets to marry the love of his life but expects his heirs to get married off on his behalf. What a stupid, selfish prick. I’m glad I never knew him. I’d likely have kicked him in the balls.
Thank buddha it’s Thanksgiving break, I need time to work through all of this. If I leave then I put my future in jeopardy and all of my hard work was for nothing. I’m still a legal minor for just over a year so I’d be putting the rest of my education on hold while I went into hiding. Plus, mom will fall apart if I disappear again and even though I’m pissed at her, I don’t want to be the cause of her heartbreak. That leaves me ten days to come up with a legitimate plan. Ten days that I don’t have to talk to anyone or do anything.
Apparently my elusive, infamous grandfather will be here on Thursday for Thanksgiving so it looks like my new goal is to get him on my side. It’s the only logical way to do this so that I can get an education and hopefully get out of here after graduation without all of this marriage nonsense.
As far back as I can remember, college has been the dream. It’s my one way ticket to my own life. It’s been my only real goal. I need a scholarship so I can make my own way. One way or another. This is my life and I won’t be sold off to anyone, I don’t care how stunning they are.
* * *
“Knock, knock! Happy Thanksgiving sweet girl.”Mom peeks her head in my door.
I’ve been up for a couple of hours, but I’m still lying in bed reading. I look over to see mom giving me a tentative smile.
“I just wanted to let you know that these flowers came for you this morning. There’s a card, but I didn’t read it. Black is an awfully strange color rose to send to someone though so I’ll admit, I’m curious. They typically signify death. A boy at your school probably thought that they looked badass or something though, yeah?” She looks to me questioningly and holds out a vase with at least a dozen black roses, crossing my room to put them on my side table.
I give her a shrug in response because fuck those flowers. I’m sure the guys sent them, but I won’t be bothered to read their card. I am not playing this game with them.
