Page 17 of Merciless Queen
Except I wouldn’t.
I hated the press.
I hated being in the public eye.
I hated being the only child my father had.
And I hated him for going on his bender and leaving me to do this shit alone.
I loved my father. He was my heart and soul, but fuck, I wanted to strangle the life out of him. I also knew when I told him the news, he was going to be pissed until I told him it was a farce. My father believed love and emotions showed weakness and left an opening for attack. It happened to him, but he wasn’t the only one who lost someone that night. I listened to it, trapped in tunnel vision until he came home. He lost his wife; but in a way, I lost both of my parents that night. Nevertheless, I agreed that love and emotion in this lifestyle was useless. Enemies would have a greater advantage of killing us without physically killing the leader.
“Go. Away.”
Harlow would become my wife, and as my wife she would have my protection. This was for my personal gain and for her safety. Vincenzo would come for her one day, and when that day came, I would finally get rid of him.
After an hour of demolishing the punching bag, I left the gym, making my way back upstairs into the kitchen. I wrapped my knuckles, knowing Moira would have a conniption about it later. It had been four days since I took the girl, and I’d been angry—first at her for being engaged to a man like him, and then at myself for believing she wanted to. Luca was continuously monitoring his feed, waiting for Vincenzo to slip.
When I stepped into the kitchen, Antonio handed me a steaming bowl of gnocchi. He was the only man I would ever consider marrying simply for his cooking. The best way to a woman’s heart was through her stomach, and if I married him, he couldn’t leave me and cook for someone else.
“Did she come down and eat?”
Antonio nodded, pouring me a glass of cabernet. “She came down around eight and had two bowls of food, although she didn’t finish the second one. I am also taking all chicken and rice off the menu.” I arched my brow as I took a bite. “I don’t know what she’s been through, but I believe that is all she ate while in her confinement.”
“How was she?” It was a question I should’ve asked Moira or someone else, but Antonio knew how to judge someone by the way they interact with him.
“Skittish. She was able to have a conversation with me, but I could tell she was uncomfortable. She dropped her knife, and I went to pick it up, but she panicked when I accidentally brushed against her. Lizzy brought her back to her bedroom. I believe she showered and went to sleep.”
I nodded. “She will see Serena soon, so maybe it will help.”
“You really are helping her,” he said with a softness in his voice. “That girl is broken, but she can be something now because you helped her.”
I flashed him a smile, going back to my food. I was not one to preen or accept praise for something when I had my own motives behind it. I was not one to pry, but I wanted to know what he did to her. Elizabeth hadn’t even told me what they’d done to her. The only thing Elizabeth had disclosed to me was Vincenzo never touched her in a sexual way. Apparently he had a type, and Elizabeth wasn’t it—but she said Vincenzo was the worst. Any man who had to rape and abuse the innocent was not worthy of life, regardless of our mafia roots.
When I was finally able to get my hands on him, I would make his death slow. I was tempted to break whatever treaty he had and deal with the consequences if it meant he was dead, but then, I’d lose Petrov as an ally. I could only imagine what Vincenzo did to Harlow and Elizabeth, but hopefully with them back together and safe, Harlow could heal properly and help Elizabeth heal what was left of her trauma. Lizzy beat herself up a lot for surviving when there were so many girls still suffering. She talked about Harlow, even though she never referred to her by name, but I could see how much she cared for the girl who was left behind.
After finishing my dinner, I washed my dish and put it in the cabinet. Thankfully, Moira wasn’t downstairs, or I’d earn a glare from her. Moira didn’t like thelady of the housecleaning up after herself. My father and mother taught me to never rely on anyone or leave messes for other people to clean up. I might have grown up in luxury with the finest things, but I was human, and someone could rip this life from my hands. It wasn’t likely unless I was dead, but I was not a spoiled brat living off of my father’s dime.
If I had grown up differently or had siblings who would one day take my father’s throne, maybe my life would’ve been different. Maybe I would be a spoiled princess without a care in the world, but I wasn’t. The family was my priority—protecting my father while he was in a constant spiral was my main concern. I was grateful that my father wasn’t forcing me into marriage. How ironic that not only was I choosing it myself, but forcing another woman into it with me. Most women in this life were forced to marry before they were eighteen. At eighteen, I was leading with an iron fist and gaining allies while my father was out and about doing God knows what. In the end, everything we endured together would be worth it when I made Vincenzopay for hurting our family and taking my mother away from both of us.
CHAPTER 12
Harlow
Everythingin this house terrified me.
Everyone was watching me, waiting for the moment I shattered, but what could I expect when the slightest noise petrified me? The look on Antonio’s face when I screamed bloody murder mortified him. And it made me feel horrible, but I couldn’t help my reaction. He didn’t even hurt me, simply brushed against me after I fumbled with my cutlery and he was being nice. Lizzy helped me back to my room, and I cried in her arms for ten minutes before telling her I wanted to be alone.
Being away from him was a battle itself. The demons were tumultuous. Vincenzo’s words echoed in my mind like a twisted lullaby, and I felt like I was in a constant warzone with my mind. My scars ached. Lena said it could happen with trauma, but it felt like he was here carving my skin to show that he would never be away from me. It’d only been a few days, but I felt like I would never be free of the shadows he cast and be in a constant state of fear because of him.
Freedom was fucking terrifying.
The bathroom filled with steam as I stripped out of the clothes Caterina gave me. No matter how many times Ishowered or scrubbed my skin raw, I still felt him on me. His touch was a numbing and callous memory. Every forceful touch burned in my mind, every salacious word screamed in my head as I tried to force the thought of him away, but his grip was paralyzing. Would I always be like this? Petrified by another’s touch when I’d been deprived of human contact for years, all because I was haunted by my tormentor?
Vincenzo Mancini was my devil, my tormentor, and my monster. His grip was a vise that squeezed with relentless pressure and left permanent marks. It wasn’t just physical. He wormed his way into my bones and subconscious. Lizzy, Caterina, and everyone else I met in this house, said I was safe and promised my protection, but I would never be free of Vincenzo’s grasp. He wanted me. He wanted me every day for the last ten years, and he wouldn’t stop just because I was temporarily out of his reach.
I fiddled with the edge of the damp bandage, my fingers working attentively as I tried to distract myself from the sting underneath. The adhesive tugged at my skin, pulling away in tiny, stubborn pieces until I peeled it completely off of my wrist. The air and hot water hitting the wound caused a quick, sharp sensation of pain to ricochet through me.
The wound was still fresh, but healing slowly with the redness around it starting to fade into a subtle pink. The skin was tender and irritated, but a scab was starting to form. I winced as I gently cleansed the area, my fingers lingering on the scabbed edges. I never realized chains could create such an ugly mark. When I used the broken mirror on my skin, I didn’t think, I just did. I wanted to end my misery, but I wasn’t quick enough, or maybe Vincenzo’s men heard the glass shatter. Either way, death would have been better than the punishment I received after that failed attempt. I didn’t need to think like this, not now. My mental health was already spiraling.
