Page 53 of Forbidden

“He’s mine!” she screams, scratching my arm, her nails drawing blood. I swing back, my fist smacking her jaw, and she reels, gasping.

“You don’t get it. I loved him. I was going to marry him, be everything he needed. Then he humiliated me and called it off because of you!”

“He didn’t want you, Charlotte. That’s not my fault. You’re not well. Stay down!” I shout, lunging for the gun and snagging it.

I lurch to my feet, panting, pointing it at her, my hands shaky. Blood trickles warm from my shin, staining the floor red. She scrambles up, sobbing, her face a mess of tears and rage, but headlights flare outside, tires screeching sharp.

The door bursts open, and Adriano storms in, his face twisted with fury, gray eyes blazing. Tommy’s right behind, gun drawn, moving quick.

“Grab her!” Adriano snaps, and Tommy hauls Charlotte back by the arms, her screams echoing as she thrashes.

“Let me go! She stole him! She—” Her voice cuts off as Tommy drags her out, the sound fading into the night.

Adriano turns to me, his eyes locking on the blood, the gun trembling in my hand. He steps close, snatching it from my hands and tossing it aside.

“You hurt?” he says, voice rough, hands hovering like he’s afraid I’ll break.

I shove him hard, stumbling back, my shin screaming, head throbbing. “Yeah, I’m hurt! Your psycho ex broke in, waved a gun at me, and I’m bleeding because your fucking life keeps spilling into mine!”

His jaw tightens, guilt flashing raw, but he reaches for me. “I didn’t know she’d—”

“Bullshit!” I yell, slapping his hands away, my voice cracking loud. “You didn’t know? This is exactly why I didn't want us together before. She’s your mess, Adriano, your ex, your enemies, all of it! I told you we’re cursed from the jump and now look! She wants me dead because you picked me over her! We’ll never be happy, can’t you see that?”

He grabs my wrists, holding tight, his eyes boring into mine. “I see it, Penelope. I see the fucking wreckage. But I’m not letting you bleed for my shit. I’ll handle her, I swear.”

“Handle her?” I laugh, sharp and bitter, pulling free. “You can’t handle crazy! You can’t stop your life from swallowing me! Every time I think we’ve got a chance, something—someone—tries to kill me! We’re doomed, and you’re too stubborn to admit it!”

His face twists, pain slicing deep, and he steps back, hands falling limp. “You think I don’t know how fucked this is? I hate myself every day for pulling you in. But I can’t let you go. I won’t.”

“Then you’re a selfish asshole,” I spit, tears burning hot down my face. “I need space, Adriano. Real space this time. I can’t think with you hovering, with this shit crashing down. I don’t know if I can keep living in your hell.”

He stares for a while, then nods slowly, reluctant. “Alright. I’ll give you that. But I’m watching. Keeping you safe. That’s not negotiable.”

“Fine,” I mutter, turning away, swiping my cheeks hard. “Just get out.”

He grabs his jacket, hesitates, then walks out, the door clicking behind him. I sink to the floor, blood smearing the tiles, my body shaking. Charlotte’s gone, hauled off by Tommy, but her face sticks in my head. She’s Henry Holden’s daughter, Adriano’s ex, dumped hard before their wedding. Publicly shamed, she ran to her dad, who’s been scheming ever since, pairing her off with some rich widower now, a consolation prize. But she’s here, feral, blaming me for losing him. I get it—love twists you up, leaves you desperate and dumb. I’d be a wreck too if he’d tossed me like trash.

Days slog by, heavy and gray. I bandage my shin, the cut raw and angry, and limp to Caruso’s every morning. The store’s allshine with black marble, gold veins, diamonds glinting cold, but it feels like a lie now, a glossy cover on a rotting core. I punch numbers into the computer, file papers, my hands moving automatic while my mind spins.

Outside, I feel them. Today it’s Tommy’s SUV, tomorrow it’s Frankie, another it’s Sal. All lurking a block away when I leave work, cigarette smoke drifting from the cracked window. I know it’s Adriano’s doing, his way of keeping me “safe” without crowding me. I shove my hands in my pockets, pretending I don’t notice, and start walking home.

Sometimes it’s Ralph, his scarred face peering from a shadowed car. Adriano hasn’t been coming to the store, I know first-hand that he doesn’t absolutely need to except for emergencies, which rarely happen, and I am grateful he is giving me the time off that I need. I keep my head down, pretend I don’t see, my steps quick on the pavement. I’m not ready to face him, to untangle the mess of want and fear knotted in my gut.

“Subtle as a brick, huh?” I mumble under my breath, kicking a pebble down the sidewalk. It skitters into the gutter, and I imagine Tommy’s dumb grin if I flipped him off. But I don’t.

Back at my apartment, I unlock the door, step inside, and freeze. Something’s off. It smells different and my heart kicks up, fast and hard, and I scan the room. Nothing moves. The TV’s still off, the couch sagging where I left it. But that feeling, it’s like a hand on my spine, pressing slow. I grab a knife from the kitchen block, and creep toward the bedroom.

“Anyone here?” I call, voice steady even though my pulse hammers. No answer. I nudge the door open with my foot, blade ready, and peek inside. Empty. Just my unmade bed, sheets twisted from last night’s tossing. I exhale, lowering the knife, but the unease sticks, slimy and cold.

I lock the door tight, double-check every window, my hands shaky.

I flop onto the couch, tossing the knife on the coffee table, and stare at the ceiling. He’s out there, watching, waiting. I know it’s him or his guys, at least. Part of me wants to storm that SUV, drag Tommy out, and scream at him to tell Adriano to fuck off. But I don’t. I sit here, stewing, because facing him means facing me and my want, my fear, the way I’m tangled up in him so deep I can’t tell where I end anymore.

Charlotte’s memory lingers and I wonder if that’s my life now, if I’m always supposed to be braced for the next hit. It’s not his fault, not really. He didn’t send her. But fuck, I can’t shake it, this gnawing thought that loving him means drowning in this shit forever. I see us, tangled in blood and want, and it’s a beautiful mess I crave and hate all at once. Happiness? That’s a fairy tale, a lie for people who don’t know what we do. With Adriano, it’s survival, raw and brutal, and I’m not sure I’m built for it anymore.

I grab my phone, scroll to his name, and stop. My thumb hovers, trembling, then drops. Space. I need it, even if it’s killing me. Because the truth’s a bitch: I’m caught, hooked deep, and every step away just pulls the line tighter. Life with him is a fight I might lose, and I’m too damn tired to decide if it’s worth it yet.

Next morning, I’m at Caruso’s again, hunched over ledgers, when Lisa struts in. She’s all heels and attitude, her blonde hair bouncing as she drops a stack of invoices on my desk. She also recently got employed at Caruso’s after she resigned at Gianna’s company. It has been a dream of hers to work here and when the store was looking to employ some positions last month, I helped push in her resume.

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