Our marriage was nothing but a façade. But I couldn’t let my family know it. So, I agreed to attend this family dinner so my brother-in-law, Gianni Puglisi, could bring his broken family together. I believed it was impossible, but he wanted to try. So, I’d support him in his efforts even if it meant my night would be a living hell.
I’d done a good job hiding everything from Phoenix and Gianni. The physical and sexual abuse. The constant analysis of my every move. My family believed Dorian treated me like a queen, but you never knew what happened behind closed doors.
Dorian insisted we attend tonight. It wasn’t because it was a family dinner. He hated Sergio Puglisi. The man I loved but could never be with.
Sergio had done so much to us throughout our lives, there was no possible way I could ever forgive or forget. But that didn’t mean I didn’t love him, and Dorian knew it. He wanted to rub it in his face that I was his and there wasn’t anything Sergio could do about it.
Dorian looked at my relationship with Sergio as a threat. I wasn’t sure if it was because he knew I loved him, or if it was Sergio’s connections in the mafia world. Dorian Drakos was a man to be feared, and he didn’t like competition. And to him, Sergio was his competition.
I stood in the bathroom as the light from the setting sun, weak and mellow, passed through the thin curtains, spreading a faint gold over the cold tiles under my bare feet. This was the mostbeautiful time in Greece, with the salty tang of the sea in the air just as the sun dipped below the horizon.
I wished I could enjoy it more. Greece was supposed to be the start of my new life away from the craziness of Sergio Puglisi, but it became my nightmare because of Dorian Drakos.
The mirror reflected a familiar, yet foreign face, as a wave of sadness washed over me, making my heart ache. My reality wasn’t at all what I imagined it would be. The bruise was a deep plum and fading brown color that curved beneath my right eye, that glared back at me. It was a painful truth of the life I lived.
My brown skin’s warm undertones showed every shift in color. So, I learned how to layer, how to blend, and hide the truth from everyone, even Dorian’s family. Not that they cared.
Sitting at the edge of my red velvet-cushioned stool, with the soft hum of ambient music drifting from hidden speakers in the marble walls, it did little to calm my nerves.
The bathroom was just as extravagant as the rest of the home. A vaulted ceiling with a crystal chandelier, scattering light like diamonds across the polished floor. The vanity was a masterpiece in itself—white lacquered wood with gold inlay, a tri-fold mirror framed in decorative swirls. Another image representing a life that didn’t exist for me.
Rows of high-end cosmetics I’d spent a fortune on were arranged to perfection. Color correctors, concealers,foundations, and setting powders had become the only thing that kept my living hell a secret from the outside world.
Starting my daily routine of hiding my hell, I tapped the corrector over the bruise with my ring finger, ignoring the platinum solitaire diamond glistening under the lights of the vanity. Next came the concealer. I dabbed, blended, and blotted, painting over my bruised skin as it disappeared in stages. Finishing with a sweep of powder, I locked the illusion in its place.
I’d become an expert by now.
“Hurry the fuck up, Sera!” Dorian shouted from downstairs. “We’re going to be fucking late!”
“Shit!”
I added a touch of highlighter to the opposite side to draw attention away from everyone’s gaze. Then, as a final touch, I smeared red lipstick across my lips. I hated red, but it was the only color Dorian allowed me to wear.
“I’m coming!”
I studied myself in the mirror. The bruise was gone. Or at least, it was hidden.
Leaving the vanity, I sprinted to the bedroom, snatched my clutch off the bed, and bolted out of the bedroom. We weren’tgoing to be late, but Dorian hated to arrive anywhere on time. We always had to be early.
When I reached the living room, he had his hands shoved in the pockets of his black slacks. When he saw me a scowl covered his face.
“What the fuck are you wearing?”
My dress was casual, and different from what I wore when we went out. Dorian always wanted me in something short, tight, and flashy so he could show me off to his colleagues or associates. He wanted men to be envious of what he had.
“We’re going to Phoenix’s, Dorian. I didn’t think I needed to dress up.”
“You did this shit on purpose.” His eyes roamed my body with disgust. “You knew good and damn well I’d never want you to wear anything like this, but maybe he does.”
He stalked toward me, then gripped my bare arm. I winced. “Dorian… you’re hurting me.”
His dark chuckle sent shivers down my spine. “Let’s get this shit over with, wife.”
He didn’t release his grip on my arm, and I was sure another bruise would bloom on my skin. Hopefully, it won’t be seen tonight. If they did, then all hell would break loose.
Tonight wasn’t going to end well for me.
Chapter Five
