He makes a disgruntled noise at the back of his throat. “You should have just gone with the blonde Morozov. At the very least, she’s legitimate.”
I clench my jaw. “I like my choice just fine.”
My father tilts his head as he regards me. “What do you intend on doing with her, really?”
“Ruling the fucking world,” I mutter, half serious.
He scoffs. “Your children will never be accepted. Your sons will never be Made.”
“Made? Like how you made me?” I huff a laugh. “Never.”
“There was nothing wrong with how I made you,” he says, “You are just like your mother. Weak.”
I grind on my molars. “Ma had more strength in her pinky finger than your entire fucking body, old man.”
He just sighs. “It’s not too late. Get a good, nice, Italian girl for a wife. Keep the Morozov girl as a whore.”
My blood boils at his words, at the fact that he thinks he has any authority over me at all. “No.”
My father’s eyes are filled with pity. “The girl will betray you.”
The words affect me more than they should. Still, I brush them off.
“She can try her best to,” I say. Then I turn, enough time having passed for an acceptable enough visit. “Goodbye, father.”
I get to the car, none of the reporters brave enough to approach me. I make a stop at the condo to finish up work and return to the apartment as the sun starts to set.
As I drive, I can’t help but mull over my father’s parting words. Maybe it’s because he wasn’t wrong. It’s only been three weeks, and Freya’s already slipping from my clutches.
When I get back to the apartment, it’s uncharacteristically loud. It’s because Freya and Luca are yelling at each other on the couch, I quickly realize.
They’re playing Call of Duty.
No doubt Luca set it up while waiting for me, like he had many times before, and Freya asked to join. She’s freshly showered with wet hair. Luca yells something, and she laughs, the sound echoes the space and carves into my chest, white-hot and pulsing.
“Luca,” I snap.
Both of them snap their heads up to me. Freya scowls. Nothing I’m unused to. I ignore her, narrowing my eyes at my cousin instead.
“Outside. Now.”
Luca sighs, lifting from the couch, giving Freya a brief glance. “See you around, baby M.”
I walk outside, the sky descending into darkness, a cool breeze sending light rippled on the fluorescent pool.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, turning to face him.
“You weren’t at the condo,” he says, “and I needed your signature on some shit.”
He waves a manila envelope in the air. I ignore it.
YOU ARE READING
Torment | 18+ ✓
RomanceRunning from hell isnʼt easy. Especially when thereʼs someone dragging you back down into it. Belligerent, brash and always in shades of black, Freya is hardly a lady. Hidden away by her father, sheʼs lived a normal life despite being born into the...
