Was there any hot water anymore in the world anyway? The only hot anything we got here was tea during Thanksgiving or Christmas sometimes. Maybe the world didn't have hot water anymore. My lips probably turned blue and my teeth chattered by the time I finished my shower, and Alec once again threw me a black towel, which smelled like shit and had several stains on it as though someone washed it in coffee from the table. With my luck, they probably did.
Again, not once wincing, I dried myself and put on silky black pants, which were an inch too short for me. Alec smirked. "Too big, huh? Days are counted here." Again, ignoring his remark, I was led barefoot toward some new room, but this time the blindfold was already pushed over my eyes. After what Damian pulled, they didn't take any chances.
I rubbed the knife wound right beneath my heart, and for a hundredth time wished it had killed me. Some doctor John brought kept me alive. Truly, why the fuck did I deserve this shit? Unlike Damian, I didn't need revenge or anything else. My life literally had no purpose. For all I knew, my twin considered it a weakness, but I was so damn tired of fighting everyone.
Or was my purpose to provide pleasure for sick men who got off on hurting children? I heard once about the word destiny. John kept telling me that some people have a specific destiny in life, what they were meant to do.
Who the fuck needed their life, if the meaning of their existence in this world was for some dirty old men to use and abuse them?
And just like that, I came to an important conclusion. I decided to finally end this fucking shit, and for once, not accept what John and the company had in store for me.
The only way to be free of this destiny was to end my miserable, good-for-nothing life.
Rosa
Blinking few times in confusion, I still had no clue why Dominic had come in the first place or why he would leave so suddenly, by a window no less. I sat down on my bed and exhaled a calming breath.
What the hell was going on tonight? Surprises kept popping up left and right, none of them pleasant. Just when I thought everything was going well with my relationships and school, karma had to step in and throw some shit in my face.
Grabbing a tissue box from the nightstand, I blew my nose into one as my eyes roamed around my room, seeing things I hadn't seen before.
Walls covered in pink paper with unicorns on them, dollhouses, and toys scattered in the corners, princess-like cupboards, and nightstands with various princesses stuck to them.
White fluffy carpet still held stains from cherry juice I spilled on it years ago, and the purple washed-out curtains that shrank with each wash. The only difference in the room consisted of my queen-sized bed, which took up most of the place, and the wardrobe, which had built-in drawers with several mirrors. But besides that? Everything, down to small details, such as drawings on the wall, stayed the same as it was all those years ago when Mom was alive.
To preserve her memory, he never let go of her, and with that, he couldn't accept the fact I grew up. My eyes landed on the framed picture where Mama held me in her arms laughing and tilting her head back, while I smeared cake all over my dad's chin during my one-year birthday. Holding it in my hands, I ran my fingers softly over the glossy photo. And with clarity, I saw that to my dad I still stayed his little girl who needed protection all the time. That way he didn't have to acknowledge his greatest pain, losing my mother. At some point, he entwined our images so tight inside his head he couldn't see the difference between us. My disappearance only fueled his desperation.
Sighing, I finished packing and changed into comfortable flats, jeans, and a white T-shirt. Sending a text to Lorenzo to wait for me downstairs, I picked up my biology book, grabbed the wheeled-luggage, and almost bumped chests with my dad at the stairway. He scanned my appearance, and his expression turned grim.
"Let's talk about this."
Shaking my head, I tried to bypass him, but he wouldn't budge from his fierce stance. "Dad, please, I'm not in the mood for an argument right now." All my exhausted body wanted to do was fall on the bed in my apartment and sleep twelve uninterrupted hours.
His lips flattened, as he replied angrily, "Too bad. All this shit Allegro said … it was just a possibility a long time ago and-" My dad just couldn't listen or measure when it was enough.
Why did he even think he had the right to decide what was best for me?
"And you are hell-bent on keeping old promises, aren't you?"
His eyebrows came together, creating a deep line between them. "Nothing wrong in preserving traditions," he replied.
"Traditions? Or creating a museum of my life and yours in this house?" My voice turned distant and cold, while he narrowed his eyes and raised his chin.
"Rosa-" But I didn't let him finish.
"Dad, look around." Waving my hand around at the portraits, cracked marble floor, and washed-out walls. "Mom has been gone for fifteen years, and you still refuse to change anything in here, down to pigeons in the garden."
Something flashed through him, as his face became unreadable. "Stop while you can, Rosa."
But it was too late to stop, wasn't it? My naivety allowed me to stay blind to the fact that Dad's issues ran deeper than his desire to protect me from life and everyone around me. The belief that the situation with me taught him anything was stupid. You couldn't help a person until he or she wanted it too. We simply couldn't live together under one roof, no matter how much we tried.
"Mom is dead, Dad." He stepped back, as if I slapped him. "Has been for a long time. This desire to make a museum out of our lives? It's not going to bring her back. You seeing me as this"-I took the photo out of my purse and raised it to his grief-stricken face-"will lead our relationship nowhere." His jaw ticked as his fist clenched while he struggled for his legendary control, but it failed him. So without further delay, I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly while he stood with his hands hanging low, not even moving to return it. "I love you, Daddy, but you have to let go. Otherwise, Mom won't be the only person you lose."
He finally hugged me back, almost squeezing all the air from me, and whispered into my hair, "You are my princess, Rosalinda." Closing my eyes, I soaked all the love from this moment, knowing it was a changing point in our relationship. No matter how much I loved him, how much he loved me, the nest that was his house became a prison for me, and I longed to fly away and find my own place in the world. Parental love was one of the most precious things in this life, but not when it suffocated you.
"But I can't be a Cosa Nostra princess anymore, Daddy," I whispered back into his neck, while he froze, but then his heart started to beat rapidly as the impact of my statement settled in.
"If he is what you want," he said firmly, with an edge to his voice.
Dominic inspired feelings inside me I couldn't describe: desire, protection, and safety … Was it possible to call it love? Probably not, but I understood deep into my soul no one would ever compare to him. So why resist it so much? Granted, my life was here, and I had my own dreams that I hoped to accomplish, but if anything, he proved he'd always stay by me and never rush me. How could I not trust him with my heart in this case?
"He is."
He sighed in defeat, and with one last hug, he let go of me, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "Lorenzo will take you?" After my nod, he picked up my luggage and circled his arm around my shoulders. "Let's go then." While we strolled down, I noticed our lack of guests and raised my curious eyes to my dad. "I sent them home. Romeo pissed me off, and Allegro just doesn't know when to keep his mouth shut," he answered grimly, and I chuckled, wholeheartedly agreeing with him.
Once we reached the car, he palmed my face, pressed a kiss to my forehead, and murmured, "When you have a child, you'll understand me, but remember one thing, Rosalinda. There will never be a time when you won't be a Cosa Nostra princess." Tears slid down my cheeks. He wiped them away and helped me inside the vehicle. He barked at Lorenzo, "Keep her safe. Your job still stays the same." And with those words, he closed the door, and the car slowly rode through the narrow arch to the entrance.
Lorenzo's fingers kept switching the radio, clearly looking for some classical song, which my ears just couldn't take, when I blabbed, "Did you know people still think we are engaged and gonna have babies?"
He paused, and then his eyes met mine in the rearview mirror as horror ran through them. "What?" he asked, his voice colored with anger. "Are those people trying to get me killed?"
Frowning in confusion, I asked, "What do you mean?"
He grinned, as he waved a hand toward Salvador, our gardener, as he opened the gates. "The pakhan will have me burned alive for this. So please keep that information from him."
Shit, that ship had sailed. "Yeah, about that … "
My apologetic voice got his attention. He slowed down then looked over his shoulder at me. "Please tell me you didn't share this nonsense with him? He is going to fucking kill me!" Hitting the steering wheel with his fist, he added, "I have a girlfriend."