I’ll do whatever I can to avoid his wrath.
“He’s in his office, Miss Rosalia,” Maria calls after me.
“Thank you, I’ll see myself in,” I reply, already crossing the house.
I ignore the men who watch me with heated looks as if they remember what I look like naked. It’s disgusting behavior, making me long for a different future.
My father only controls the actions he witnesses or sees on video, which is why they’re all facing away from them as they watch me. My lips press together in annoyance, my hands twitching imaginary wrinkles out of the material of my skirt.
The door to the office is open, and I knock softly as I watch him work. He actually does run his day to day operations, refusing to allow anyone else to do it other than me. When he needs someone to balance his books, that’s when he uses my degree to the best of his ability.
I’ve always had an affinity for numbers. They make more sense to me than people, and I take comfort in the fact they can’t hurt me. I have scars hidden over my body from sparring that turned into a punishment, and my father has hit me on occasion in places no one will see unless I’m naked under a bright light.
This is yet another secret I hide for the family from my stepsister.
“Come in.” His grunt propels my feet until I’m standing in front of his desk. While I have a knife hidden high on my thigh, I know I’ll never use it against him.
Even if I managed to hurt my father, his men would make me rue the day I was born. I’m loosely connected to many of them as they’re not all hired guns. Some are family members who want to be as close to his power as possible.
My uncles would fight amongst themselves to figure out who would take his place, and they’d throw me to the very men who failed to guard him to curry favor. I’d be raped until one of them killed me.
No, I know my place, and fear keeps me there.
My lips are sealed as I wait for him to deign to speak to me. The less I speak, the better my chances of not saying the wrong thing.
His eyes lift, raking over me from my toes all the way up to my hair.
“You clean up well. Have you been enjoying the summer gallivanting with the orphan?”
My sharp inhale is the only evidence he’s hurt me. Vero is an orphan because I helped make her one.
“Tell me, has she licked your cunt? Stolen your virginity with a fake dick, mia figlia?” The words are spit out, and I realize too late there’s an open bottle of whiskey on his desk. He’s drinking, which is never good for me.
Stupid, so damn stupid.Fuck. At least Vero isn’t here.
“Papa, no. What is this about?”
“Don’t act so fucking innocent!” he screams, his hand wrapping around the top of his whiskey bottle like a lifeline.
“I’m a virgin.” I’m hoping this will reassure him, but I’m not sure if anything can at this point.
God only knows how long he’s been drinking alone, or if this is his first bottle or not. The liquor appears to be half full inside of it, but he’s so fucking angry, that doesn’t mean much to me.
Exploding to his feet, his lip curls in a snarl as he walks toward me with his fucking liquor. My hands twitch at my sides to protect myself, but I force them to stay where they are.
“Virginity used to mean you were untouched.” Papa upends the bottle over my head, and whiskey covers my hair, skin, and clothes. Blinking rapidly to keep my vision clear, I gasp as I accept this punishment for whatever it is he believes I’ve done wrong. “Can’t waste anymore of this. It’s good fucking whiskey.”
He pours a sip of the liquor into his mouth before stepping back to glare at me with his dark eyes. He’s so angry, they almost appear black, and the very air feels hot as I stand underneath his ire.
“I allowed you to keep your stepsister, even though I knew you had an unhealthy attachment. Aren’t I a good father! Have you forgotten your place in this family?”
My thoughts race as I try to figure out where I went wrong. Did someone call him, saying they’d seen Vero and I together? Or has he decided he’s simply tired of pretending to ignore my relationship?
Anything is possible with my father, and it wouldn’t surprise me.
“No, sir,” I rasp, liquor dripping from my hair into my eyes despite my best efforts. “My place is to get married to whoever you tell me to?—”
Papa’s expensive leather shoe kicks me in the stomach, and I gag on the vomit it pushes up. If I puke, he’ll punish me further than what he already plans. I promised Vero I’d stay, and I hold onto that as I swallow down the half digested snacks I ate earlier.
