Eliza, our housekeeper, picked up my empty plate, and asked, “Would you like a dessert?” Shaking my head, I gave her a weak smile, wiped my mouth with a white napkin from my lap, and stood up, the noise of the chair sliding back on the floor grating on everyone’s nerves. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go.” Father frowned while Mother huffed.
“I don’t like your night trips. A good girl doesn't do it.” His eyes narrowed while he scanned my appearance. “Especially in those disgusting clothes.” I barely restrained myself from laughing in his face—jeans and a T-shirt evoking such a reaction in him, really? Nothing pleased them unless it was a flowery dress or a ballroom gown.
“Father—”
Mother cut me off, clearly wanting to jump into the routine lecture of theirs. “I don’t even understand why you need it so much! You have a wedding in nine days, which should be your main concern. Not some child who has his days numbered anyway.”
Coldness gripped as a tremor rushed through me, and my jaw almost hit the floor from how shocked I was. They never approved of me volunteering at the hospital, but so blatantly disrespecting the patients? Especially the little ones, as they were the hardest to watch disease sucked the life out of.
“Mother.” I prayed for patience, as screaming matches with them never helped, and they refused to see anything from my perspective. This was one of the reasons children shouldn't live with their parents once they hit the twenty-year-old mark. “In nine days, as you put it, my life will forever change. Before then, please allow me to rule it as I see fit.”
“No! I will not allow it. We’ve waited ages for this day.” Mother's voice turned almost desperate, panicky, and it confused me. The wedding appeared to be more important to her than me. Like some kind of lifeline she hung on to.
Placing my hands on my hips, I cocked my head to the side while raising my brow. “And why exactly would I need your permission?” With the way they hadn’t shown affection toward me and my sister, it baffled me why we still lived with them. Independence seemed like a much better option than this. One of many reasons I couldn't connect with thepastAngelica. The girl let everyone walk all over her, if their orders were anything to go by. But I couldn't let them. Everything in me rebelled against the idea like a powerful storm.
Father hit the table with his fist, making the glasses and plates shiver and jump, and shouted, “Watch your mouth, Angelica!” He breathed heavily as veins in his forehead popped, displaying his anger and control threatening to snap. Taking a step back, I blinked several times. I couldn't believe it. As much as they acted like old folks set in their old ways, never once was I scared.
Ciara quickly joined me, laced her arm with mine, and did her best to defuse the situation. “Father, she didn't mean it like that. Please, her memory is not back, and she just feels vulnerable. Remember how the doctor told us she might have odd behavior? That’s one of those things.” She pinched my side, while keeping her focus on our father who studied her and me, deciding if she was selling him bullshit or not. Since she gave me the signal, I nodded, and he relaxed a bit.
His anger transformed into calmness in an instant as he lifted his hand and caressed my cheek, and by the tight grip Ciara had on my elbow and her nails digging into my skin, I understood I shouldn't wince or show any kind of revulsion. “Angelica, I’m sorry. You may go. Just make sure to let them know it does not continue after the wedding.” Licking my dry lips, I willed myself to act normal and nodded.
We walked upstairs, where Ciara pushed me inside my room and shut the door quietly behind us. “What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, running her fingers through her hair.
Rubbing my arm, I blinked rapidly, still dumbstruck from the scene downstairs, while she continued ranting, “No one acts like this around Dad! Unlike you, he didn't have any brain damage,sorella! This is unacceptable.”
Finally finding my voice as my anger rose, I grabbed my bag from the floor, checked my wallet and money, and replied, “Father or not, he has no right to act like this.” Did he always have these abusive tendencies? Ciara knew exactly how to defuse the situation enough for him to come out the winner, and it didn't sit well with me. “Why do we live with him?” Her eyes grew wide, and she exhaled a heavy breath.
“Because anything else is improper for good Catholic girls.” Which again made zero sense to me. We attended church once a week on Sundays, and besides that, he didn't act religious or give us lectures on perfect behavior. Whatever he demanded was more in line with mafia gang culture than anything else. But the flashes of his character that I’d witnessed downstairs sure unsettled me. Any act of violence, be it here or in a movie, created a feeling of ants biting into my skin as terror held me prisoner. No one could explain why, only that before the accident, it had never happened to me.
“I don’t understand… he allows you to travel all over the world and date whoever you want. Yet he can’t accept us moving out?”
A devastated expression marred her face before she composed herself again, and tiredly said, “I’m not you.” Before I could even ask what she meant, she shooed me outside. “Go, do your thing or he’ll change his mind. His guilt can last for only so long,” she whispered, and if I hadn't been late already, I’d have stayed with her, since she clearly was out of sorts. But my responsibilities at the hospital called to me, and quite frankly after the incident today, which added to already hectic feelings since meeting Dominic, I needed the walls of the hospital to center me enough to function. For several hours, I needed to be selfish.
Leaning down, I gave her quick peck on the cheek and hugged her close for several seconds. “Love you, sis!” She jerked at this as she usually did, and I darted outside, but not before shouting over my shoulder, “Call me!” With that, I escaped to the one place where no one expected me to be someone I wasn’t, and in those rare moments there, my lungs breathed freely without the heavy weight of an unpleasant future weighing heavily on my shoulders.
Conductor
Gazing at the mirror, I tried to study my reflection critically while the bathtub filled with water, and bubbles formed, releasing the aroma of lavender into the air.
The silky black robe slid down my skin, leaving me standing nude and allowing the harsh light to expose my perfect body. The right shape, size, form. At least according to all those glamour magazines lying around the house.
Lifting my finger, I traced my full lips and high cheekbones, wondering what Rosa Giovanni had that I lacked? Why had Dominic lost his head just casting his eyes on her picture, while meeting me did nothing for him?
She couldn't understand him on the level I did. We shared a common past, we could bond, and we could have a perfect little heaven with each other.
People like Rosa Giovanni didn't belong in our world.
A memory of his rejection still stung, playing like an old black and white movie in my head.
Moscow certainly had an appeal I didn't expect. Snow fell all over me, as I swirled around, lifting my arms wide. The snowflakes lightly touched my skin and melted on my tongue while my light coat barely offered any warmth.
As I stood in the middle of Arbat Street with people passing me and nudging me when I stubbornly refused to move, I couldn't have been happier. The air in Russia was different, almost setting me free, and closing my eyes, I inhaled it, feeling almost like a normal human being.
And then a husky voice snapped me out of my haze, and my gaze clashed with the most handsome and dangerous man I had ever seen. Blinking a few times, I thought for a second he was a dream, a figment of my imagination, but here he stood. Frowning, he asked, “Eugenia?”
Nodding, since I had to give everyone here my fake name as my father had insisted, I regretted not wearing something more appealing so he could have a better look at me. The hat on my hair, long scarf, and wide sunglasses, which covered up a black eye, didn't give away anything of my beauty. “Yes.”
“The business is finished with Vasya. I need to take you back to the car.” He motioned behind him to the black Volvo, where the driver stood holding the door open for me, probably to escort me back to the airport.
