Page 21 of Merciless Queen
I swallowed hard, but didn’t look away. “And in return?” I wanted to believe she was different, but she was the same kindof monster copied and pasted in a different font. “What do you expect me to do when the door is closed?”
She didn’t flinch or feign insult. “I’m not going to touch you, Harlow. This marriage is in name only. It is a way for you to breathe without being scared. I need a wife so the other families will leave me alone. I am a leader, a woman, and a lesbian. I don’t need nor want a man to help me lead. With you as my wife, they will leave me alone.”
A bargaining chip and a fake marriage. “You will be my wife, Harlow. You don’t owe me anything. You can attend school, paint, read. Do whatever you desire. You will have access to my credit card and every other luxury that the Moretti name offers. Being my wife won’t be unfortunate.”
“What choice do I have.” It was a statement, not a question. “I’ll do it.”
Caterina Moretti was my only chance at freedom. A life where I could be free to live. One where I would never see Vincenzo again or experience the same traumas I had for the last ten years. I always dreamt of my wedding, but when he took my life from me, I knew it wouldn’t be my reality. Hell, I thought I would be dead before I turned twenty, because I thought Vincenzo would tire of me instead of putting a ring on my finger.
“You will always have a choice with me.” Did she not hear her own contradiction? I had a choice, but I was being forced to marry her? She didn’t give me a choice in the matter. Caterina gently grabbed my left hand before sliding the diamond ring onto my ring finger. “I’ll make the announcement, and we will have an engagement party in a few weeks and a wedding soon after. Vincenzo will know you are in my possession, but I will not let him harm you.” I glanced at the ring, the beautiful diamond not nearly as heavy as Vincenzo’s. “You can have a normal life.”
Normal.
There was that word again.
“I’ll never be normal,” I muttered, twisting the ring. This ring was too fancy for a fake marriage, binding me to a woman who wanted me bound to her like Vincenzo wanted me bound to him.
I would take the small victory. It could be worse.
CHAPTER 15
Harlow
Serena Moore wasa middle-aged woman with light brown hair, tanned skin, and kind, dark eyes. Lizzy said she would understand what I needed and would be able to help me process my trauma. I didn’t know how a woman who didn’t understand what I experienced could help me, but I’d give her a chance for Lizzy. I didn’t want to talk to her, but I also wanted people to stop hovering over me like I would break. I didn’t want to be here. Why did I agree to do this when I never wanted to?
I sat on the edge of the couch, ready to run if this went south. The room was too calm, and the clock on the eggshell white wall was too loud. There was a fake plant, a shrub, in the corner collecting dust. She had two bookshelves with a variety of self-help and psychology books with paperweights scattered around. I focused on the calendar with today's date and a quote. Today’s quote was,You will smile again.
Would I?
“I’m Dr. Serena Moore,” she said softly. “How are you?”
I shrugged. There were no words I had to share. Not now. I didn’t trust her.
“That's okay. We can go at your own pace. This space can be whatever you need it to be.”
At least she didn’t tell me I was safe like everyone else. Everyone kept telling me I was safe and that everything was over, but it wasn’t. I might’ve been in a fancy house, but I wasn’t safe. There was a shiny target painted on my back, and Vincenzo was waiting for his chance to strike. I wouldn’t be free until he was dead—or I was.
“We can start wherever you’re comfortable,” she said, crossing her left leg over her right, waiting for an answer. She wouldn’t get one.
I kept my lips sealed.
She scribbled something on her pad. The sound was similar to nails on a chalkboard. I didn’t know why it made my skin crawl as much as it did. She was analyzing me. It was her job, but it felt off. Dr. Moore wanted me to spill my guts like I was a sinner in church, but I couldn’t. How did I tell a woman I just met about the years of torment I endured? The pain? The loss? This was a job for her.
“What’s on your mind?” she attempted again.Did she ever give up?
She didn’t want to know what was going on inside my mind. It was a dark place filled with even darker memories. She wanted to morph me into something she could understand; something that only I would be able to understand. There was a hurricane of emotions in my mind. She wanted answers, but so did I. I could just talk, but that was something I wasn’t ready for. I didn’t want to relive it.
“I saw you look at my books,” she continued. “They are helpful. You can borrow some if you’d like, and during your next session, we can talk about it.”
Next time. There wouldn’t be a next time. This was a mistake in the first place, but Lizzy wanted me to do it. Caterina impliedshe wanted it done as well, but she didn’t exactly say it. Talking meant remembering. I already did enough of that on my own. I didn’t want anyone else to see past the cracks.
I tugged the sleeve of the cardigan, picking at a frayed strand. It was a mistake because this was what she was looking at. Every little thing I did, she was assessing so she could diagnose me. I didn’t need a diagnosis. I already knew what was wrong with me. A fancy doctor didn’t need to tell me I was traumatized or screwed up.
“You know, that shade of blue looks really nice. It reminds me of the summer sky. My favorite color is teal. What’s your favorite color?”
I frowned. It was a simple question. I could answer a simple question like that. “Green,” I whispered, my voice meek, almost inaudible.
She smiled, her fingers folding together. “Is there a particular shade of green you like?”
