Page 2 of Captive Union
All the while, I’m standing here, ignored like usual when it comes to the chaos that is Elena and our mom. I know Elena doesn’t mean it, but when it comes to Mom, she has blinders on. She actually cut contact with our mom after getting married to get space and form her own identity. The only reason she handles coming around our mom now is due to me. She doesn’t want me to be left alone too much with her, and I appreciate her for it, but the issue is, when it comes to the two of them, they bicker, leaving me alone and ignored. While I like that Mom doesn’t have her sights on me when Elena’s around, I can’t help but feel a crippling sense of loneliness, like I’m stuck in a crowd and no one can hear me, let alone see me.
I wander away to look at dresses, leaving the two of them to bicker. The shop assistant walks over to me and asks if I need help, to which I shake my head. Fortunately, she leaves me alone, and I look at dresses in peace. I’m always torn between wanting to speak and being too scared to do so, just like the conflict of wanting attention and hating it simultaneously. But invisibility is what I’m used to, and ultimately, it’s what I’ve convinced myself I want.
A flash of light blue catches my eye, and I pull a dress off the rack. It’s a pretty piece—straps for sleeves with a V-neck bodice, but it’s not too racy or over the top. It’s pretty and simple, just the way I like it. Plus, the color isn’t a standout. I’ll be able to blend in nicely at the party wearing it.
"I like it,” Elena says behind me.
I jump, placing the dress back on the rack.
“Sorry.” Elena grabs the dress, placing it against me. “You should try it on.” She leans closer. “And sorry about earlier. Me and Mom, talking as if you weren’t there.”
“It’s ok.”
Elena frowns. “No, it’s really not. I got caught up in the drama that is our mother, and I’m sorry. Here. Try this one.”
I tentatively take the dress and go into the dressing room. After it’s on, I know it’s the right choice. It just screamsme. I’m not sure if I like that, but the dress is good enough, and frankly, I just want to return home and sketch some more.
Mom eyes me critically after I step out of the dressing room. “I still like the purple dress better.”
“But doesn’t Kira look nice,” Elena says.
Mom sighs. “I guess. At least she doesn’t look frumpy. That’s the best I can do with this girl.”
Elena shoots me a pitying smile. I just duck my head.
Mom claps her hands once. “Fine. This dress will do.” And just like that, Mom’s attention snaps over to Elena. “Now, what about your dress …”
After spending another hour in the store, during which time Elena tries to convince Mom that she already has her dress and doesn’t need her opinion, I’m finally back home, in the comfort of my bedroom.
I start work on a new drawing—one of my mother, the normal critical glint in her eyes. My mother’s eyes are a force themselves. I wonder if I’ll ever get out from under them.
It’s normal for mafia girls to be married off around my age—twenty. But Maxim has made no mention of me getting married, and I don’t know if he’ll ever want me to be, given how protective he is. So without marriage as an option, I’m stuck with my mother for the rest of eternity.
* * *
The night of the party,my heart is pounding before I’ve even left home. I’m in my blue dress, with my hair perfectly put together. I look the best I’ve ever had, and I know Mom appreciates it from how she gives me one cold nod of approval. And yet, I can’t shake the anxiety coursing through me. It’s normal for me to be nervous when it comes to attending parties and functions, but tonight, I just feel this sense of dread, and I have no idea why.
The party is inside a hotel on the highest floor. There’s a sprawling dance floor on one side and a huge bar on the other. Glass windows stand floor to ceiling on every wall, offering good views of the city. The room is also filled with tons of people already, and I can feel my lungs constrict; the desire to start hyperventilating hits me. I keep it down as I walk side by side with my mom into the room.
“You’ve made it,” Maxim’s deep voice resonates through the room as he approaches us, his wife, Arina, at his side. He kisses my mom’s and my cheeks while Arina offers me her warm smile. I’ve always been appreciative of my sister-in-law. At a time when I didn’t even have Elena’s support, Arina offered me hers, and it made all the difference in my life.
Arina steps closer to me. “How are you? I know attending these functions can be scary.”
“I’m fine,” I whisper.
“Kira, don’t mumble,” Mom snaps. “And yes, my daughter is fine. She can handle a party. It’s not like it’s going to kill her.”
Arina glances at my mom before turning back to me. “Well, if you need anything, just let me know.” She squeezes my arm, then tucks herself into Maxim’s side.
“So, Maxim,” Mom says, leveling her cold eyes onto him. “I wanted to ask you about any marriage prospects for Kira. She’s twenty now, and it’s high time we get her married.”
I keep my eyes glued to the floor as I listen to Maxim’s answer.
“Kira will marry in time, but there’s no rush. Honestly, if my baby sister were never to marry, I’d be happy. I know how men can be, and I don’t want that for her.”
Arina makes a sound in the back of her throat. “But that’s not fair. Kira should be given a chance to make something of herself. And unfortunately, the only way a mafia woman does that is through marriage. You’re denying Kira that chance.”
“For once, I agree with your wife,” Mom says. She’s never liked Arina since she views her as the woman who stole Maxim away. Ever since they married, Maxim has made a point of standing up to our mom when it comes to Arina. And Momhatesthat.
