I can already feel it. I squeeze my eyes tight at the burn. My stomach is in knots as if it's churning something straight from hell. It's been a day since the last time I had food in me. Go figure. When I get my hands on one of those idiots, I swear—
"Can I eat something else?" the prisoner next to my cell asks. My eyes fly open, and I see one of the guards give her a mocking look. She—the prisoner—scrunches her face as she looks at the plate next to her soiled feet as if the food in it is the most disgusting thing she's ever seen. Contrary to her reaction, my mouth waters at the sight of the crispy breaded chicken, green beans, and corn. I happen to know it tastes good—courtesy of Celia, our housekeeper and cook.
"Miss, this isn't a fucking restaurant. You either eat what you're given or starve. I don't fucking care," grumbles the guard, Neil—one of the idiots, before stalking out of the room, slamming the metal door shut and locking it from the other side.
I've been in and out of consciousness in the past few hours, and my head is still so hazy that I barely remember when the female prisoner got here. How the hell did she end up in our dungeon anyway? There are seven prisoners in total, and everyone here except her is male. What has she done to be thrown down here? Not that I did something to deserve to be tossed in here by my own prick of a father.
It's been a fan-fucking-tastic week for me in this hellhole. My father is convinced I spiked his drink and is determined to keep me locked up in here until he's satisfied or that I've learned my lesson. As much as I want to kill my father for everything he's done to me, poison is the last thing on my long list of ways to make his life miserable. That's such an easy way to go. I want the man to suffer. For a long time.
This filthy place is under the soldier's quarters just inside our estate. Above us is a single-story cottage that has a few rooms where some of our men stay, so the place is crawling with guards. I grew up on these grounds and I know my way around here. The chains on my ankles are what's shackling me to this cell, although if I really want to, I can get out of this shithole on the first day.
But I didn't do that, and I'm not going to. If I escape, my father will chase after me, and he won't stop until he gets a hold of me again. This is his way of putting me in line. Unfortunately for him, I'm sticking through this. To defeat the beast, you must let it think he has tamed you.
The only source of light we have is from the gaps between the covered small windows near the ceiling of one wall. They keep this place dark, but I can guess that it's noon right now, judging by the intensity of light casting through the cracks. It gives me a chance to scan the whole place. It's dingy, smelly—mostly piss and blood, and dank. Summer is about to end, and it's getting colder every day.
We're four prisoners in the chamber, the other three are in the room next to us. The two others are to my right. They've been here the longest, months or probably years, and have long stopped talking. I know why my father is still keeping them when he could've just shot them dead two years ago. There's no other reason to keep them alive except for his entertainment and as a reminder that he has control over these people who had betrayed him. That's his style, really. My grandfather doesn't like keeping prisoners for fun.
My gaze lands on the woman to my left. Despite the darkness in the room, I can see the outline of her figure through the bars that separate our cells. Her jet-black hair is long, and her skin is pale as she hugs her knees to her chest. She's in tight jeans and a white tank top, dirtied by the filthy floor and walls and something else that's black.
She has pushed the plate away from her—literally out of sight as if she doesn't want to see it. A scoff threatens to escape from me as I'm amused by how picky she is with her food when she doesn't have the luxury to do so in her situation. It makes me wonder if she's one of those girls with rich folks—though why would she be here?
"Why are you staring?" she mutters, glancing in my direction. I still can't see her whole face, but I'm gifted with a peek of her pink lips before she lowers her head again.
"If you haven't noticed, there's not much to look at here."
"Look somewhere else."
My lips twitch at her snarky attitude, but I don't say anything else and continue observing her quietly. She turns her body, angling away from me as if that's going to stop me from looking at her. I'd rather she be my object of amusement today than the two other rotten-flesh-smelling men to my right.
She hasn't moved much in the past hour, and I haven't drifted back to sleep. My being awake probably has something to do with the ache in my stomach. They don't feed me much since they put me here. Sometimes, Celia brings me anything she could smuggle down here at night, but she didn't come last night. I hope nothing happened to her.
I shift my gaze to the untouched plate in the cell next to me for the nth time since I came to. What a waste. I can't afford to go crazy in my state and dull my plans. I have to stay sane. And an empty stomach doesn't help that.
"Are you gonna eat that?" I probe. She certainly hasn't made a move to do so, but it's her food and I should leave her alone. But if I don't get food in me right now, this pain in my stomach will continue to eat me alive, and I can't get sick right now.
She startles at my voice. "Are you talking to me?"
"Yeah. You haven't touched your food. If you're not eating it, can I have it?" Yes, I just asked for food. Fucking pathetic. But right now, I don't have a choice.
The woman ponders for a few seconds before she pushes the plate towards the bars between us. I straighten, my mouth already watering at the thought of having a bite of the familiar flavors I know Celia cooked, even if I haven't tried a piece yet.
"Sure. Help yourself."
For the first time since the female prisoner has arrived, I'm rewarded with her full attention when she angles her body towards me and lets me see her face.
And…fuck me seven ways til Sunday.
My chest tightens at the sight of her. You have got to be kidding me. Those eyes… I can't tell if the heavens is giving me a sign or playing with me. Surely, I'm not hallucinating. I'm just hungry, not insane.
She looks very familiar, but it's dark, so I can't be so sure it's her. And there's something on her face—like car grease or whatever the hell it is.
I haven't showered for a week, so I fucking stink. My beard has grown and I have bruises and dried blood on my face and body. I'd never let myself go in normal circumstances. I feel a bit self-conscious at the moment, yet I can't stop staring at her.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, my tone hesitant because now, I have a strong feeling that it's her.
"I don't know," she whispers, hugging her knees tighter.
"What did you do to be here?"
She scoffs. "I haven't done anything wrong."
It's my turn to scoff. "If you're here, then you must have done something. Either that or you're associated with someone who owes these people who put you here." I don't tell her they're my family. I don't know why I'm keeping that a secret. Also, I haven't done anything wrong—so I guess we're on the same boat.
Her brows furrow as she contemplates. After a minute, she mutters. "My family is going to find me. If not, I'll have to break out of here."
I laugh. "There's no breaking out of here, lady. You might as well get comfy." I can get out, but I don't think she can without anyone's help.
She shoots me a glare that gets my heart pumping. "I don't care what you think. I'm getting out of here."
"Good luck." I mean it. This place isn't for people like her.
Her lips press to a thin line. When she glances down at the plate, she immediately looks away as if looking at the food is too much. "Can you get that away from me, please? I said you can have it."
I look at her food and tentatively reach for the chicken, my fingers were painted with blotches of dried blood and dirt. "You don't like chicken?"
"Not anymore."
So she used to like it? "Why?" I can devour the whole thing in two bites but for some reason, I feel like I need to mind my manners around her. Which is hilarious. I rarely care about others.
Her eyes flash to mine and I chew slowly. "It's better if I don't tell you. Just finish that. You look like you haven't eaten for days."
A day, at least. But I've surely lost some weight since they put me down here. And what's up with the 'It's better if I don't tell you'? That just makes me want to know. "Vegan? Or are you allergic or something?"
She shakes her head.
"Why can't you tell me?"
"Why are you being nosy?"
Shit. Why am I being nosy? I'm not even a chatty person. Yet for some reason, I keep talking to her.
I shrug. I haven't talked to anyone for a few days now. The other two prisoners have gone senile and possibly slowly rotting away. Even a usually quiet person like me needs someone to talk to, so I can remain sane, right?
She thinks for a few seconds and then blurts. "I just don't like it."
I can see in her eyes that she's holding back something. I'm not going to push her. Whatever. After I finish the chicken, I reach between the bars and push the plate back to her. "I'm guessing you only don't like the meat. What about the vegetables?"
Just as I asked, her stomach rumbles loudly. My lip twitches but I stifle the smile. She turns away and began picking on the vegetables piece by piece and putting them in her mouth. "Thanks," she murmurs.
The food isn't enough to satiate my hunger, but I feel a little better now that my stomach is not empty anymore. Leaning against the wall, my eyes drift close a moment later, and the dingy room is quiet for a while as the two of us stop talking to each other. I figure she likes to keep to herself so I'm keeping my distance.
I'm not really sleeping, just closing my eyes. I try to stay alert to my surroundings as I lean at the corner of my cell, the bars to my left arm, and the wall on my back.
"Why are they keeping you here? What have you done to them?" Her soft voice is soothing to my ear and I slowly open my eyes, realizing she's leaning against the corner of her own cell next to me.
Have I fallen asleep? Why have I not noticed her move closer? Not being aware makes one weak. I don't like that.
My brain goes back to her question and I contemplate telling her who I am. In the end, I still don't. So I settle with some parts of the truth. "They think I poisoned one of them."
She turns her head to me as if analyzing me. "Who? Did you?"
"No."
But I want to.
I don't tell her this, of course.
She doesn't like my clipped answers and I refuse to tell her more. Her brows knit together, slightly annoyed. She bites her lip hard, slowly releases them, and then rattles off in rapid-fire.
"I stopped eating chicken when I've been served undercooked, raw, pink, friggin' salmonella-looking chicken two times in a week, at different restaurants. Every time I see one, I want to vomit. That happened a couple of years ago and it still haunts me now. So I can no longer eat without remembering."
Holy fucking—my stomach churns as if pushing its contents up my pipe, thinking about the chicken I ate and the one she described. It makes me want to hurl my guts out.
Disgusted, I turn away, close my eyes, and take deep breaths. I try to picture anything else other than chicken just to get the image off my mind. This woman is wild. She got annoyed and retaliated.
After a few moments, she asks, "What's your name? Who are you?"
"Why do you want to know?"
Her mouth opens and closes before she answers. "When my family comes for me—and I know they will, I can ask them to help you get out too."
"You don't even know me."
"So? That's why I'm asking for your name. Besides, we're both prisoners. That means you're their enemy. You know… My enemy's enemy is my friend. That kinda thing."
"Is that so?" I can't help the smirk on my face even if I try. She doesn't know what she's talking about.
"You want to get out of here or not?" She nearly snaps.
'Actually, right now, I'd rather get to know you.' So I decide to humor her. "Sure. If there's a chance. Why not?"
The woman nods, her eyes scanning the dark room again as if assessing her chances. She's not an ordinary person, I can feel it. The curiosity is killing me, and I'm slightly afraid to know I'm right about who she is.
"Who are you?" I ask.
"Huh?" She turns back to me as if she hasn't heard me just now—as if her mind was too busy looking for clues for her escape plan.
"What's your name?"
"Oh… Um. My name's Gabriella… Gabby."
My heart pounds in my rib cage so hard I think it's going to explode. I clutch my chest on instinct.
She shouldn't be here. I'm still surprised to find out who she is despite already having doubts. But I'll be damned. Because it's really her.
My Riri.
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My teeth chatter as I'm freezing in the backseat of one of my father's cars. I stare at my phone screen, waiting for my uncle, Giovanni, to read my text. It's been ten minutes since the "sending" turned "delivered", but he hasn't read it yet.
[ Gabriella: Zio, please tell me you're still at The Manor? The car broke down and I will die frozen here if I don't leave right now. ]
The Manor is one of my family's nightclubs, and my thirty-four-year-old uncle has been in charge of it for a few years now. He's about half my Dad's age because my grandfather had him in his sixties. Anyway, I heard from the driver that Giovanni is still there, having a meeting with someone. If I reach him, I can hitch a ride with him so we can go to Nonna's for Christmas Eve dinner together. But he hasn't read my text yet and I'm bouncing my knees, getting impatient by the second.
My family would never let me ride a cab. They say it's too dangerous for me. So there's always someone driving me around wherever I need to go.
"Screw this." I get out of the car and stalk toward the driver. "Bert, I'm not waiting here. I'll just walk the few blocks to The Manor. It's not that far anyway."
Robert looks up at me and then back to his phone where he's contacted the other soldiers of my father, contemplating what to do. "I can't let you do that."
"I'm freezing my butt off! I'll be an icicle by the time they arrive." I rub my hands together and blew onto them to warm them up.
Grunting, Robert locks the car and reluctantly leads me to the sidewalk. "Fine. I'll let them know I'm walking you there. I'll just come back for the car after I make sure Giovanni's giving you a ride."
"You're such a sweetheart, Bert. I'll tell Dad to give you a big, fat bonus." I butter him up so he stops being grumpy.
That makes him chuckle. "My wife would love that. She's been wanting to get another heater 'cause the one we have keeps breaking every other day."
I purse my lips, thinking about his wife and their newborn baby. Robert is in his forties and has been working for my father for nearly two decades now. He's family. "Nah, you keep your bonus for baby Mikey. I'll get you a new heater first thing tomorrow. My Christmas gift." I smile at him and he falters for a second before walking again, his ears going red.
"I would decline if it was any other time, but I'll accept it for my Mikey. I won't forgive myself if he catches a cold because I'm too prideful. Thank you, little one."
Leaning slightly close but keeping a respectful distance, I whisper, "Just don't tell Dad I bought a man's gift today. Let's keep it between us, 'kay?"
"You get me into trouble all the time." Robert shakes his head but I see a smile on his face. "Don't worry, I won't say anything."
I doubt Robert knows who the gift is for. Or maybe he does, given the only one who would have the guts to wear a crazy suit—a Pac-Man suit to be specific—is no other than Jino, my best friend and the man I've been crushing on the past year. He always dresses in flashy suits and carries them with confidence like they were made for him alone. I chuckle at the image in my head of J wearing it. I'll ship it to Australia via express, where he's been since last year, as soon as I get the chance after Christmas. It would be a little late, but I hope he'd appreciate it.
It's almost five in the afternoon and Brooklyn is buzzing with people going home in a rush to get to dinner on time. We're not too far from Nonna's, but if we don't leave now, we might get stuck in traffic.
Rounding the corner, we see the club just a few meters away. It's closed for the holidays, but my uncle usually meets our family's business partners here. It used to be a warehouse with a large parking lot until my family turned it into a super club.
Robert leads me towards the entrance where my uncle's car is waiting. And I'm relieved to know that he's still here. His lieutenant waits for him by the car. It looks like Gio's meeting is almost over.
Just as we get closer, the front door of The Manor opens, and the air suddenly whooshes out of my lungs. A tall man with bluish-gray eyes stops a few feet away, staring at me just like I'm doing to him. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? How is it possible that he's here? Maybe it's someone who looks just like him? After all, the man I saw back when the Morellis kidnapped me three months ago was dirty and bloody all over. I could be mistaken.
"Gabby? What are you doing here?" my uncle snaps me out of my trance. I shift my stare to him and blink several times.
"You… I texted you."
"Shit." Giovanni retrieves his phone from his pocket and quickly swipes his screen, muttering an apology and then nodding. He speaks to Robert while my attention brings me back to the familiar man who came out of the club with my uncle just now.
"Miano?" I mutter, trying out the name that the man in the cell next to mine told me was his name. I could be wrong and this isn't him, but my gut and my racing heartbeat tell me it is. The man is wearing a black suit and black shirt with no tie, his face is clean from dirt and blood and he has a stubble—which is much tidier than the grown beard he had then.
The hair on my nape stands upright and my arms prickle with the way his piercing eyes smolder, still staring at me. It's him. I just know it.
"Ree," he breathes.
And I don't.
Shit. It's really him. My heart rams against my rib cage at his nickname for me. I'm rendered speechless, unsure what to say when he confirms my suspicion. A sudden excitement fills my chest at the sight of him just a few feet away. It's like I'm seeing a long-lost friend. What happened to him since I left?
"What are you doing here?" A smile threatens to show on my face and I start to walk toward him until my uncle's voice stops me, and I'm frozen in place.
"You two have met?" Giovanni questions with an angry edge to his tone that makes my head snap towards him. My uncle looks like he's about to rip Miano's face off for staring at me. I don't understand his aggression. Weren't they just in a business meeting?
Before either of us could answer, a black limousine rolls into the driveway and parks next to my uncle's car. A man and a woman climb out. I gasp when I get a better view of the woman.
"Malia!!!" I call out, rushing towards her and engulfing her in a big hug, forgetting everyone else around me.
"Oh, my god, Gabby? Look at you… You've grown more beautiful." She leans away at arm's length to examine me and I can't help giggling. It's been many years since the last time I've seen her. She's like a sister to me.
"I can't believe it's you!" In my surprise, I suddenly remember who she is and my smile falls. I look over to my uncle, his gaze locked on the woman holding me. Malia is Giovanni's ex-girlfriend, and she's…well, she's a Morelli. And the Morellis are our family's enemy.
I swallow, tentatively stepping back a few steps just as she catches sight of my uncle. I swear I can hear the fast beating of her heart, but that's not what's making mine move just as fast.
In the corner of my eye, I see Miano walking toward us. I turn my head and watch him approach Malia, my heart raging in my rib cage as I wonder how they know each other. Oh, no... Are they together? My wild thoughts are put to a stop as soon as I hear him speak.
"Sis," Miano greets and gives Malia a peck on the cheek.
What the heck? Sis? As in sister? What?!!!
And then it dawns on me… This man…is Malia's brother. I openly stare at the two and I see it now. There's a slight resemblance between them. My hands flew to my mouth. I don't know why but my entire body trembles, the organ in my chest beating at an impossible rate.
I must look like a deer caught in headlights because he cocks a brow when he turns to me. Malia and the man who came out of the car with her turn to Giovanni, the three of them having a conversation while Miano comes closer to me and I grit my teeth. No wait, damn it! Is he Mariano?! I've heard of his name but I've never seen his face. "You lied to me? That wasn't your name. You're Mariano, aren't you?"
He tilts his head to the side as if studying me, his demeanor from three months ago totally different from the one he's showing to me now. He's not smiling, but I can see the mirth dancing in his eyes. The asshole is having fun with me right now. He probably thinks I'm the idiot who fell for his lies. And that sort of pisses me off because he may just be right.
"Lied?" His tone is calm and so is his expression but I swear I see a glint in his gaze. "Hmm… The only thing I held off was my name. Does that upset you?"
Actually, I'm not sure what I'm feeling. It's not like he owed me anything. Just that, the last time I saw him, we were both prisoners in that dungeon. I thought we shared the same circumstance in that we hated the Morellis for putting us there—except he is a Morelli! Did they put him there to gain something from me? To gain my trust and spy on me, was that it? Were all the things we shared in that short moment just his way to get into my head?
No, that couldn't be right. I saw him. His wounds were real. I heard his pain. I felt his blood on my fingers. Felt his feverish skin with my hand as I held his. I thought he was going to die. Fuck. I really thought he did. And when the guards came for me and took me out of that dungeon, leaving him still a little out of it, I hoped someone had gotten to him to help him out.
Call me crazy, but when my family rescued me, I worried about the stranger whom I spent time with down there that I didn't want to leave him. I had asked the guards to get him checked but they just kept ignoring me. So when it was my time to leave the dungeon, I hesitated even though I didn't know who he truly was. I just knew he made my time there bearable. He must've sensed what I felt back then because he smiled at me, a little chuckle coming out of his half-dazed state when he muttered:
"Congratulations on getting your freedom. Don't worry about me, Ree. I'm getting out of here soon. I'm not meant to stay here for long."
That was the last thing he said to me before I was hauled out of the cell.
Since then, I think about him from time to time, wondering if he'd really gotten out like he said he would. It's ridiculous that sometimes, I close my eyes at night and my mind brings me back to that place. Then my hand would feel so warm as if it remembers holding him when he got sick. I couldn't tell if he was haunting me because of the thought that he had died, or if I was traumatized by that experience. But I never told my family about him—not even my friends, J and Trigger.
I don't know why I kept him a secret. I think I'm ashamed to admit that some stranger…a man…made me feel safe during that time when I felt so scared. That even after three months, I still remember him sometimes when I close my eyes.
Now, realizing that he's a Morelli, the grandson of Don Mario Morelli, I feel so betrayed. I can't accept the fact that he's an enemy. I find that difficult to grasp.
I know I'm biased when I say Malia, his sister, isn't an enemy because as far as I know, she and her mother had been cast away and she's just…she's different. Okay? I knew Malia when I was in my teens and she's really like a sister to me despite what happened in the past that led to my grandfather's demise. I don't believe what they say about her. This man in front of me, however... My gut is telling me that he's more dangerous than he lets people on.
"Me being upset would mean that I care. And I don't care about you." I swallow, and his eyes follow the movement in my throat. Perfect. He just caught my lie.
"Hmm... Well, I'm glad to see you alive and well."
I have so many questions, but I settle for one. "What are you doing here?"
"Finalizing the arrangement regarding the council's order."
My eyes narrow. "What's the council's order?"
Mariano looks at me pensively for a few seconds and then he scoffs. "I can't believe they kept you out of this."
It's not a surprise. My family tries to keep things from me that have anything to do with the family business. "Kept me out of what?"
His sister calls to him and Mariano gives her a nod before turning back to me. He leans in and I can smell his woodsy scent that's making me heady. His lips move to my ear and his hot breath fans my neck, causing goosebumps on my skin as he whispers, "The council orders our families to marry to stop the war between us. And you're my bride, Ree."
My eyes widen, and my jaw hits the ground. He backs away. A contained smirk ghosts his lips, shooting a blazing arrow through my chest. But before I can gather myself, he is gone. What the hell just happened?
Looks like Gabby went from Ooh... to Oh no!
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