MAFIA POSSESSION ( Completed)

GOOD LUCK CHARM

Or would he simply be romantic when the need arose? Would he say the words I wanted to hear when I needed to hear them? Would he laugh behind my back as soon we departed? Was this all a charade? What were his true motives? Was there any way to ever know?

What would it even entitle? To be at his side? Could I ever let him have me again? Despite what he’d taken? Despite the women and crude behavior— despite the man he was. Were these rare moments, where he crawled from under the broken cracks of his real self to allow a hint emotion even worth it?

Were we being honest here? Is that what this was? Was he admitting he felt something for me? What was he expecting me to say? Because if we were being honest, he’d not like what I had to say, of that I was sure. His words were filled with deceit and lies and betrayal— a trait common to the men of the Familia. Was he trying to suck me in only to make my humiliation worse at the very end? It wouldn’t work…I wouldn’t allow it. 

“Want.  Want, want, want…everybody wants. The L.A. Familia wants to establish their authority over their territories. New York wants to expand their territories. Roman wants his people’s respect and fear. Viktor wants people to recognize his cleverness… But you, Anthony, want me to not hate you.” A laugh of mockery escaped past my lips. “I don’t trust you. The men in my life are all selfish liars and you are not the exception. I will not simply forget what you’ve done to me. And I am not the child you think me to be. I will always be my father’s daughter.”  It was more diplomatic than the harsh quip just dying to be tossed in his face. This love was sickening and edged with the deepest of black. Luck of the draw, New York’s mob princess, in love with her rapist.

“I mean it, Isabella,” He started again, after clearing his throat somewhat awkwardly. Did he know what was in my head? He proceeded like he did, but didn’t care.

“You’re right not to trust me. But fuck everyone else. No one will look after you better than you. Not your father, mother, brother, cousin…not even me. It’s not possible for me to look out for you like I should. I can’t be there making sure you eat breakfast lunch and dinner. You’re capable of eating, I saw it just now. I don’t know what goes on in your head when you don’t….but I’d rather you eat willingly then be sent to one of those damn clinics.” A pause. “Everyone looks out for themselves and you should do the same. I can convince your father to not send you if you promise you’ll try…if you meet the conditions.”

I laughed again. “All this just to get me to eat? I promise to try, Anthony.”

“I’ll arrange for a well-known professional to consult with you once a week.”

My eyes widened at that, “What?!” Concentrating on those blue eyes that held a stealthy determination. How was this any damn better than the clinic?

Anthony cocked an eyebrow at me, looking like I shouldn’t even be surprised.  “It’s either the full time clinic, or a once a week psychiatrist. Take the lesser of two evils, Isabella. It will help you sort out all of the many issues I’m sure you’re struggling with.” His eyes averted mine in that moment and I knew he meant the damn rape.

Its impending shadow over my life was becoming a nuisance. This was Anthony feeling shame for what he’d done and his way of trying to make things right. But nothing could ever make that right. And he didn’t have me fooled. He wasn’t an angel sent to help. He was the devil that caused unlimited amounts of pain. And he was waiting to strike again.

“You’re full of shit,” I cursed.

And a panic welled up within at having to discuss my inner feelings with a total and complete stranger. “I hate you. I don’t need professional help…I don’t need your help. I can handle this on my own.” That was probably a lie, but the thought of having someone in my head, prodding and prying and asking questions that weren’t ready to be answered was more than a little terrifying.