Page 2 of Stolen Vows
“Did you have a crowd?”he asks.
“Of course.I was out shopping with the ladies from the country club.Don’t worry, Daddy, I—” I swallow and gather myself before lying in the high-pitched, sugary sweet voice I used as a child.“I bought the girl a pretty skirt from the top luxury brand store, and she was so happy she thanked me over and over again and all the ladies kept saying you raised such a sweet young woman and they couldn’t wait to tell their husbands how trustworthy you must be and—”
“Alright, Valentina.I understand.Good job, baby.Are you sure you’re feeling okay?I know your periods are always irregular, but your last few were fairly mild, so you’re due for a—”
I grit my teeth and glare down at the feminine products in my hand, blocking out his voice for a few moments while I regulate my breathing.
Hatred roars through me so fiercely my entire body shakes.Disgust crawls over my skin.Hopelessness throbs deep inside my chest.
“I’m sure, Daddy.I’ll be ready to go in less than half an hour,” I promise.
The disappointment in his reply curdles my stomach.
I shove the pads in the purse hanging from the hook just inside my walk-in closet before unbraiding my hair, shoving my sweaty nightgown in the hamper, and jumping into the shower for a quick rinse.Less than fifteen minutes later, I stand in front of the mirror wearing jeans and a modest top.
I fashion my hair into a quick and easy updo, piling the brunette strands on the top of my head and securing the bun with a few metal-free ties before leaning close to my reflection and checking my roots.
I’ll need to buy another box of hair dye as soon as we get to New York.
Ever since my father began drinking after my mother left, I’ve tried to change my appearance so I look less like her, but there’s no hiding my delicate features and bright blue eyes.
My father fell in love with my mother at first sight.I remember the sparkle in their eyes as they told of how he swept her off her feet—literally—and carried her off the football field.A stereotypical Cali girl through and through, my cheerleader mother had never met a dark and dangerous Italian mobster before, but he had the funds to keep her in luxury and the charisma to steal her heart.For fourteen years, they lived the American dream, twelve of those with me as the center of their universe.
Then everything fell apart and I became my father’s deepest wound.
I shove several pairs of clothing into a medium suitcase, ensuring I have something to wear no matter what situation my father throws me into, and fill a smaller case with makeup, jewelry, and shoes.Kneeling beside my dresser, I pause as my eyes catch on the item tucked into the corner of the bottom drawer.The only remnants of my most treasured doll as a child, I lift the bundle of bright yellow yarn and hold it on my palm before cupping my hands under my nose.
Bittersweet memories spear through me as I inhale.My mother’s perfume lingers under the smell of smoke.I barely saved this tiny piece of my favorite doll from the fireplace when my father turned his back to toss more things into the flames.The burns on my fingertips bubbled and scarred, but I feared losing my treasure so fiercely I bore the pain in silence.
That was the first time in my life I didn’t run to someone else when I was hurt.
There was no one to run to anymore.
Also masked within the smell of flames lies a rich, masculine cologne.Not my father’s.My uncle’s.Tears gather on my lashes even as my heart grows cold.
I spent so much time with him as a child he was like a second father to me, even though my mother only treated him as a brother.Maybe life would be easier if they had crossed that line and run off together instead of shattering my heart one after the other.
I tuck the yarn back into the drawer, unwilling to ruminate on the man who ripped every ounce of security from my life.The snake who destroyed my family and shattered my trust.
I close the drawer and zip my suitcases before standing and wriggling my socked feet into my tennis shoes.
Keeping my word, I’m ready to emerge from the bedroom before half an hour passes.I grab my phone and charger off my bedside table before turning off the lights as I follow the trail of illumination my father left for me.With my purse on one shoulder, my jewelry bag strapped onto the handle of my rolling suitcase, and the wheels clicking over the floor tiles, I meet my father in the living room.He smiles as he rises from the couch, but the expression doesn’t reach his eyes.
“You will have dinner with Romeo Yovanni tomorrow evening, so I expect you to go shopping for a new dress in New York before you settle into the hotel.Capisci?”he commands.
Bitterness and resignation war within me.
Once upon a time, I enjoyed shopping, but now I’d happily never set foot inside a store ever again if given the choice.The wonder I once felt at the sparkling jewels and fancy dresses died a slow, agonizing death as my father wielded my bubbly persona like a weapon in petty socialite power games.
Even if Romeo only wants me as a trophy wife in a loveless marriage, at least I won’t be under my father’s thumb anymore.Freedom lies less than three months away.I can handle a few more visits to top brand stores to scout future business conquests for my father.
He gestures for me to lead the way to the car.I step out of the house and add a carefree bounce to my stride as I cross the pristine driveway to the covered parking area.
Despite it being nighttime, my father spends most of our travel time on either his tablet or his laptop, so I keep a small smile on my face and a sparkle in my eyes, ensuring he sees me bright and happy every time he looks away from his screen.
It’s exhausting.I hate traveling but staying at home is worse.There are too many memories in my childhood home.It’s too isolating.
After landing, we exit onto the tarmac and slip into different vehicles, my father driving himself in a sedan while I sit in the backseat of a black SUV.
