Love and Lust (The Hamartia Trilogy Book 2)

Capitolo XXVI

Aurelia might be right. Perhaps the world was indeed tired of leaving me behind, that it was time for drastic changes to happen. Maybe it actually was knocked out to its senses that I was a valuable player and I contributed something to its messed-up schemes. It was about time, but I was afraid that it was a little too late, that I was officially a lost cost. But if I was indeed going down, I was going down fighting.

I know my uncle said that I had family back in Italy to welcome me, but I wouldn't put it past him to lie about that so he could put whatever plan he has into motion. If there was something I learned from this shitshow, it's that some people wouldn't do good just because. There's always something in exchange. I couldn't possibly forget that Matteo and my father are brothers.

The last thing I remembered from last night was Lucas hissing in my face, promising that he would kill me slowly when he gets the chance.

You know why I hadn't killed you yet, Mari? Because I couldn't do it. I wanted to understand why you are who you are.

Bull-fucking-shit!

I personally would've killed myself with the things I've done. There was nothing to understand, and I wish I could tell Lucas that. I was simply doing my best to run away from the world I grew up in. It isn't ideal. And me? I could kill Lucas anytime, and at any place. The only reason why I hadn't, was that he didn't deserve it. Sure, I planned on it, but that was just me being desperate. Now I know that I don't have to kill him.

I woke up with Lucas still knocked out cold on the bed, his mouth ajar as he lay in a supine position beside me. He still wore his suit, sans the necktie. All the buttons were undone, and I let myself enjoy his beautiful chiseled chest before my brain fully functions and snaps to remind me about our little fiasco last night.

The morning of my wedding and I was having a splitting headache. I can feel my bones aching from the way I thrashed my room and threw things around. The scotch hit differently; it's taste still lingering in my mouth like a bad chorizo. I groaned on my side of the bed and covered my eyes with my forearm, blocking the faint light coming from the balcony. I, too, was still in my wedding dress. Thankfully, the fabric didn't rip in my sleep.

Fighting through the pain, I stand up from the bed, eying Lucas one more time before retreating towards the bathroom. My dress was wrinkled, the slit losing thread and opening further up my thigh from the activity the night prior. I sniffed, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I licked my dry lips.

The marble sink in the bathroom was clean, thank God, because the sight in my room made me want to vomit. That and I hadn't eaten in the past twelve hours but helped my husband finish the bottle of scotch last night until we were both knocked out, oblivious about our current problem. I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed the bottle of Aspirin, popped two pills in my mouth and scooped water from the faucet with my cupped hands. The medicine hit my empty stomach, and it growls in response.

I cursed at my reflection, shaking my head at the alien eyes looking back at me. I wasn't the type to belittle myself, but I have never looked this horrible in my life. The smeared mascara made my eyes appeared hollow, uneven patches of what's left of the foundation painted my face, and the mane atop my head, frizzy with all the products used, made me look like I was electrocuted. The funny thing was, I had been electrocuted and I wasn't this awful looking then.

An invisible fist collided with the pit of my stomach, the feeling of nausea and anxiety reminded me of how much in trouble I am. It seems like all of my plans were in pieces. And Lucas knew everything. Almost everything anyway. I wasn't worried about him knowing I told my uncle to kill him. Why would I be? He's still alive, isn't he? And I had put on a good show for weeks so Lucas would do things for me. I wouldn't give myself low credit for that. It took a lot of mental preparation to be in the zone. Do you know how difficult it was to make him do the dirty work? But he was a good boy. What didn't sit well with me was him knowing about my mother. My clearly alive and well mother who was too busy shopping a penthouse in the city to stop by and visit her only daughter. At least I hope I'm her only daughter. If I had a sister, I would go find her, remind her how much of a shitty person Lara Larionova is. Was. She was nonexistent to me. I just wanted to confront her, see if she has anything to say to change my mind from gutting her throat. It was a fat chance.