CARINA
“M arried?” I ask, stepping out from behind Dom. “As in, ‘do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife’ married?”
“The one and only,” Bitch Face gushes. What I wouldn’t give to smack the fake right off her face right now. Mateo doesn’t seem like the type of man to marry just anyone, and now he’s marrying this wicked witch of the East? I have no words that could possibly describe the turbulent nausea racing through me.
“Ew,” I say before I can stop myself. Just the thought of them together is more than my sensitive stomach can take.
Fire blazes in Camille’s eyes as she stares at me down the tip of her nose. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“It means I feel sorry for him. That’s what.”
“That’s it?” She snorts, clutching him tighter. “You’re sorry for him, not the fact you lost out?”
Forcing a dry chuckle, I stare at her, allowing her to see the dark void that imprisons my soul. “Does it look like I care, Camille? No? That’s what I thought.”
Shaking my head, I step out from behind Dom, never once meeting Mateo’s gaze. I’m afraid if I do, I’ll kill him. A beast or something inside of me is growling, roaring as it fits against its binds to be set free. It salivates at the thought of being uncaged, allowed to wreak havoc on anything in its path. And damn, just the thought is delicious in its own right.
When I get beside him, I lightly pat his chest in the universal sign that I feel sorry for him. And I do. Anyone who would willingly tie themselves to someone like Camille has definitely got a few screws loose. I don’t personally know her—because I could never get close enough to a bitch like that—but having almost been intimate with Mateo twice, I realize he doesn’t deserve anything other than a life filled with superficiality, which is exactly what he’ll get with her. She will take and take until there’s nothing left for her to get her grubby hands on. Camille doesn’t love him. She only loves the status he can bring her.
“Carina,” he whispers, but I can’t bring myself to look at him.
Sighing, I leave without responding. Pushing open the doors, I make my way up the steps. I’m about halfway up before I stop, turning. If I’m truly allowed to roam this place with free rein, then it wouldn’t hurt to go outside, would it? Mulling it over in my head, I finally decide that my first conscious time in the winter air will be now. I could certainly use it to clear my thoughts, that’s for sure.
Trekking back down the steps, I hesitantly make my way to the door. I don’t know why, but I expect any minute for this room to fill to the brim with armed men, warning me against going out. When my hand touches the door knob, nothing happens. When I twist it, hearing the clink of the mechanism disengaging, nothing. And when I jerk the tall, monstrous door open, a smile spreads across my face.
I lied earlier when I said it didn’t bother me. It bothers me tremendously. Not for the fact I have this piddly notion of love because love is for suckers. But because he’s the only man who’s dared to chase away my demons. He’s the only man who makes me feel anything worth feeling. I’ve grown attached to the way he’s worked me into overdrive the last few days. Whether it be anger, lust, passion, sadness, happiness—the important thing is … I felt something by being near him and all his cockiness. And now, I won’t have that. I’ll have to figure this all out on my own, which is a scary concept when I have no clue where to begin.
Stepping quietly out the door, I shut it with a light click. It’s freezing outside today, but it feels like heaven against my skin. The beautiful scenery that meets my eyes causes tears to brim on my lids. The first time I’ve ever been outside in my entire life by my own choosing, and it feels as if the shackles that were placed around my ankles at birth just fall away. I feel lighter, freer that I ever have.
Not caring that I’m in a dress and heels, I take off down the stone steps, giggling. I can’t explain my reaction, nor do I want to. The only thing I care about right now is I’m doing something for myself, and no one has a say in the matter.
Pressing the tips of my heels into the snow, I cackle when my entire foot disappears. Teetering, I finally gain balance on the ice hardened ground, while gently walking through the snow. My feet are freezing, my body is shivering, but I can’t explain this feeling that blooms inside my chest. It’s almost suffocating.
Pondering, I drop down to the ground on my back, spreading my arms and legs out around me. Like so many times I’ve seen on the television, I start sliding my arms through the snow. I’ve seen many woman and children and families alike in movies make these. It seems to bring them closer together while diminishing anything that could be counterproductive to their mental health. Even if they’re yelling, screaming, and crying—they’ll laugh, smile, and close their eyes in happiness.
“You look happy,” I hear from beside me. Glancing over, I see Dom standing at the foot of the stairs with unlaced combat boots, white-beater, and sweats.
“I can’t remember a time where I’ve felt this before.” I sigh, stopping my movements.
Setting down, he regards me with a sad smile. “You really can’t differentiate emotions since that night, can you?”
“No. Not really. I know what each emotion is, I’m not some illiterate buffoon. But somewhere deep down, it all feels wrong to me,” I say, sniffing. “I just wish I could remember everything instead of little pieces.”
“What do you remember about that night?” he asks hesitantly.
“Honestly …” I begin with a shrug. It’s then I remember the snippet of a memory when Mateo was holding me. “Not much. But, I do have one thing I think I remember. It was fuzzy and distorted, but I think it was from that night.”
Interested, Dom leans forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “What was it?”
To be honest, I don’t know if I should tell him or not. It would be my luck that he takes everything I say here and reports it back to Mateo, even though neither one of them should care.
“Why do you want to know so badly?”
“I was just wondering,” he answers with a half-hearted shrug.
Deciding to take him at his word, I continue, “From what I can tell, I was in water. I was shivering or convulsing … something along that nature,” I whisper, feeling those blasted emotions begin to clog my throat. “I remember fear. Anger. Worry. Sadness—all of those feelings rushing to the surface so fast it made my head spin, but I only understand pain for some reason. It’s the only one I identify with. However, the logistics of that night, I can’t remember. I … I don’t even remember who I am.”
“Carina?” I look over at him, seeing him gazing at me with worry etched across his gorgeous face.
“Yes?”
He seems to hesitate, which leads me to believe his next question is a loaded one, and possibly one I won’t want to answer. I should stop responding to them right now, but since that first day—the side splitting laughter we shared in the hall outside Mateo’s room—he’s the one person I’ve felt closest to in this house.
“What do you remember about yourself—about your family?” I hesitate to answer, but he quickly puts my mind at ease with his soft words of encouragement. I don’t know why I feel so trusting with him, but I do. Which makes this last part easier to say. I hope I’m not doing this all for nothing, and he can at least try to help me out with figuring out who I really am.
“Everything.” I toss a frustrated look his way, releasing a dry chuckle. “I remember every devil-forsaken thing about them. But I just can’t remember who I am. I know my name is Carina Ricci. I know my parents are Daniel and Jillian Ricci. I lost my brother when I was little, but I can’t remember how. And I know this is contradicting my actions since coming here, but I feel like I’m acting the exact opposite of how I usually did—as if I’m an imposter. Something tells me I’m this soulless, heartless human being with no morals or reason why I do what I do.” Tears brim my eyes, causing me to curse aloud as I wipe them away furiously. “It feels like I have a caged part of me and an uncaged part, both fighting with each other.”
“Like you’re battling some unknown war?” he asks.
Nodding furiously, I stare at him in awe. “Yes! That’s exactly how I feel. I just wish I could remember who I am so all of it would stop, and I can go back to being that person. Maybe that would answer some questions I’m not able to. It’s like that part of my brain that houses memory blocked bits and pieces while leaving the useless shit behind.”
Sitting silently, Dom studies me. I know he’s trying to see if I’m lying, but I can assure him I’m not. I haven’t felt right since I woke up, and I don’t believe I will until everything has been explained or I get that part of my memory back. It sucks being one person, then suddenly feeling like you’re someone completely different. “Have you thought maybe you shouldn’t be that person anymore? That, maybe, the reason you feel like this battle is raging is because you want to change?”
“I’d rather be anything that the emotional mess I am right now,” I reply, smirking.
Glancing behind him, he releases a sigh while shaking his head. Following his line of sight, my eyes catch Mateo’s, seeing the pain and anger swirl together in his gaze as he looks down on us. I want to go to him and talk to him about all this, but I still can’t face him. He’s shacked up with Camille, and it appears I’m nothing more than a possession to him. He doesn’t care about me; otherwise, he wouldn’t have asked that bitch to marry him.
“Looks like we have company, Kitty.”
Smiling, I quip, “Why do you call me Kitty? I never thought to ask that until now.”
“It’s simple, really. You’re this adorable, miniature little person that has the attitude of someone twice her size. You have claws that come out against anything, even the most terrifying of obstacles. You’re not scared. You don’t back down when it means something.” He huffs, standing to his feet. “You’re just …” He goes to say something else, but the words catch in his throat as he peers across the expansive yard in front of him, lost in thought. Instead of saying what he wants to, I can tell he’s limiting himself in what he should or should not say, which infuriates me. “We better get you inside before you catch a cold.”
“No,” I jerk up, feeling a lead weighing down my legs. “I don’t want to. I want to stay out here.”
“You will get hypothermia. And even though the boss is indisposed with Camille, it doesn’t mean you’re any less his property.”
“Goddammit, Domino!” I shout. “I’m not his. How many times do I have to say that? If I was, he’d be tapping this ass and putting a ring on it. Do you see that happening? Do I want that to happen? Yes, to the tapping, because the man can certainly move. But, definitely a big fat fucking hell no when it comes to the ring. He’s made his choice. He doesn’t get to have his cake and eat it too.”
“You are seriously strange, Kitty. Do you know that?”
Rolling my eyes, I scoff. “That’s old news, man. Old. News.”
“We really should be going in,” he says softly, looking up at me with worry etching across his features.
“I … Just let me stay out here a bit longer,” I plead. “I’ve never … I haven’t …”
Furrowing his brow, he says, “You’ve never been outside before, have you?”
I could tell him a lie, which he will more than likely be able to sniff through rather quickly. He and Mateo are pretty perceptive. So, I opt for the truth. Even though every truth I’ve ever spoken before coming here led me astray.
“Not of my own free will, no. My father would take me out,” I say, feeling a distant memory trying to resurface. “He would load me in a cargo van with no window, then take me somewhere. I just … I can’t remember.” My eyes widen as the words easily fall from my lips. My stomach bunches into knots, and it feels like someone’s pressing a boot on my chest. It’s hard to breathe. I just don’t know if it’s from the winter air, from whatever Dom is asking, or how I knew I’ve never gotten to do this on my own. “The only place I was ever allowed that was …”
I stop when it feels like something else is taking me over. I spout out these words yet have no idea where they’re coming from. Maybe if I try really hard, I can remember, but something seems to be in the way of me gathering the information I need to know. All I do know is I need to remember who I am, and why pain is the only thing that makes me happy.
“Was?” he prompts.
Shaking my head slightly, I push thoughts of that place far from my mind. I know whatever happened to me had to be because of that place, and I don’t want to travel down that road again. I can’t. It will break me; shatter me completely if I allow it. “Even when I was there, I had to go through the basement to get to it. I never actually saw outside without a barrier between us.”
“You had to go through the basement to get where?”
Trembling, and this time not from the cold, I turn to look back at Dom, my face nothing more than a somber mask. “Hell.”