Three

 

Liv

 

“I’m going to stick the handle end of my blade so far up that cunt tonight,” said Tony, his mouth pressed to my ear.

I cringed at his touch, feeling his lips widen into that sickening smirk he’d been shooting me the last two months, since my father had told me I would finally be wed to this piece of shit. This was my family obligation, after all. When you were the sole child of an underground mobster, and you were born with a vagina, your only contribution in life was to wed some douchebag psychopath to strengthen the alliance.

It was all very fantastic.

“Charming,” I replied dryly, keeping my eyes pinned to a spot on the wall in front of me.

He took a step back, but not enough to ease the pressure inside me. I kept my face wiped clean of emotion, but my lips quivered with disdain. He looked me up and down, his eyes feasting on my bare flesh. I had nothing but a wet towel on, and I wished more than anything I had washed myself sooner.

My cousin Sonja was standing by my bed, clasping tight my wedding dress, looking mortified. His men had broken the door down just a minute ago, taken it clean off the hinges like it was easier than knocking on it. Then he strode in, searching for me. I wasn’t sure why he was surprised and relieved to find me. Did he think I would run? I’d been under a microscope my entire life to know there was no escape. Years of boarding school, bodyguards and barred windows were enough to solidify the reality of my situation: I was a prisoner more than I was a daughter to my father. And now he was letting me go, but not to better circumstances.

Tony circled me then, his finger roaming from my shoulder, to my back, to my other shoulder. His touch was vile. I held my wince in, doing everything in my power to show him I wasn’t afraid. Weakness could be sensed like a scent to these people, and if he knew how fragile I really was inside he would slowly torture me to destruction.

“There will be many people at the chapel,” he said, stopping in front of me, his blue eyes burning into mine. “It would be in your best interest to smile and play the part of a happy bride.”

My heart sped in irritation, and an overwhelming bite of anger flared through me as I replied evenly, “If you wanted someone to play pretend, you should have married an actress.”

In a flash of a second, his eyes went dark with anger. He grabbed me suddenly by the arm, squeezing it tight enough to bruise and pulled me to him. My chest crashed into his, the wind knocked out of me. My legs wobbled, my heart sped faster, but I kept my eyes glued to his, never breaking contact for a single second. He stared down at me, his teeth clenched like a wolf about to snarl.

“You have quite the fucking nerve, don’t you?” he growled, tightening his hold. “Spoiled rich bitch, sold off like a piece of property to the highest bidder. Only I didn’t have to pay a cent for you. He practically gave you away.” His words were painfully true. There was no sugar coating                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       what my father had done, but it had been predictable and inevitable. My life had never been in my own two hands to steer, but goddamn this piece of suit if he thought I’d go down without a fight. My body might have been a tool for their peace treaty, but my tongue was my own to do as I pleased.

“It’s bad luck to see the bride before the wedding,” I responded, keeping my voice level calm, just to annoy him further.

His nails dug into my flesh. “What luck do I need? I already have you, don’t I?”

He was laughing at me. I could see it in his eyes. He found my imprisonment amusing. My shackles were invisible, but you didn’t have to see them to know they were there.

“We’ll be husband and wife in a matter of hours,” he added, that smirk I hated returning. “And you’ll learn to appreciate your man.”

“When I see a man,” I returned, slowly, “I’ll be sure to let you know. Now unless you want people to see the bruises on my arm, I’d let go, right now.”

Appearances were everything to him. He wouldn’t want the controversy of everyone knowing he hurt his pretty petite wife and had the bruises as proof. As if to prove my point, his other hand twitched by his side. He really would have struck me if he could get away with it. Jesus, my father was wedding me to a monster. There was a raw betrayal in that, worse than the pain in my arm this pig was inflicting on me. This is the price of business, Liv.

He let me go abruptly, and it was victory seeing the lust fade from his eyes, replaced by disdain. Yes, hate me. Hate me until you can’t stand the sight of me.

“Your father may have let you pass with that tongue for this long, but it ends the second your vows are said in that chapel, bride.”

My response came in the shape of a cruel smile. Fuck. Him. His fingers twitched again at the sight of it, but the battle was over. I’d won this round, and my pitiful pride shone in my eyes.

Taking a step closer, he dropped his head to my level. “You know what we do to lesser people?” he asked gently, his voice dropping so only I could hear. “We round them up like little pigs, and then we release them into the wild. We hunt them down like prey, and we take our time. We take our time peeling back their weaknesses. We watch them suffer as we close in on them. With nowhere to go, they suddenly plead for another chance. You know what I love the most about this, bride?” His eyes lit up, and his lips curved upwards. “I love watching the pride flee from their eyes.”

My heart hammered in my chest, disturbed by his words. I fought the flinch in my expression, desperate to look unaffected. Tony gave me one last look, and then he turned his back to me. He left the room taking slow strides. A confident, cocky man with the world at his feet, and I, a soon-to-be trophy on his wall.

There was no door to close behind them; it was hanging on its side against the wall. A big hole in the room he would probably not even have to answer to with management. Suits in Winthrop were a gamble. You didn’t know if they were average joes working an office job, or part of the mob.

I didn’t take a breath in until he was finally gone, and when I did, I felt nauseous and dizzy, his words still running laps around my brain.

 “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?” Sonja hissed once they were all gone, her voice coming out breathless.

Instantly, my shoulders sagged, and my smile disappeared. I edged back and collapsed on the bed, overwhelmed with emotions. Raising my hand to my face, I watched myself tremble.

“Liv?”

I couldn’t respond. I was in a panic. I had spent sixteen years of my life sheltered, pampered and kept on a short leash. Now it felt like I was wading into the unknown.

“He’s going to hurt you,” Sonja continued.

Yeah, he was. Stupidly, I just provoked the bear.

“Why do you never think, Olivia? You and that pride!”

“I wasn’t going to cower to him,” I countered, tossing my glare her way. “I’ll never go down that easy, Sonja.”

She just shook her blonde head, looking disappointed. “Then you don’t have a chance at this life.”

I blinked back tears and nodded. She was right, but I knew that already. My stepmother number three wasn’t as headstrong as me, but like me she’d been wed out of force. My father slowly destroyed her, and she didn’t last very long in this world before death wrapped its arms around her. Alcohol and pills will do that to you.

I wondered if that was my destiny.

I couldn’t deny the allure of a few magic pills. To feel numb in this world would be a blessing.

As if sensing my perilous thoughts, Sonja sat down beside me and wrapped an arm around me, consoling me. “You can do this,” she told me, sympathetically. “You’re the strongest girl I know.”

I scoffed and looked at her dubiously. “If I’m the strongest girl you know, I feel sad for you.”

I was no stronger than a monkey at the zoo. I could see the outside world, but I would never come to know it. Not like I used to. But even that felt like a lifetime ago. I was pruned of all the stingers I’d developed at an early childhood to go back out there and take the thorns. I wouldn’t know a thing about survival.

I stood up on shaky legs and went to the window. I watched people going about their lives, a wave of deja vu flooding me. I was back there again, isolated, and forced to stare down at freedom, feeling more and more envious. Lavish me all you want with dresses and jewellery, but I would trade it all up for the street life in a heartbeat.

I thought of the old man, of that day he took me away, and I felt resentment bubble within me.

“You’ll have to back down, Liv,” Sonja explained soothingly. “This isn’t like the streets. To survive this life, you have to play by the rules.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat and lifted my chin defiantly. “He’ll have to break me first.”

 

 

My wedding dress was an absolute atrocity. Sonja had hired some famous wedding designer whose lips had been so swollen from a recent Botox injection I couldn’t understand a single word she’d spoken at our first meeting. I’d never understood fashion, really. If it looked good I wore it. But if it looked like a piece of monstrosity, the point of it was lost to me.

Just like now.

This thing weighed heavy on me, especially the corset top, thick, beaded and lacy. My breasts were pushed up, my nipples harshly pressed against the material. While the top of my body was pressed up tight like a sausage, the dress exploded past the hips in a tornado of puffiness, much like a ball gown dress but not with the same flow or elegance. I’d worn some crazy dresses in the past, but nothing as drastically puffy and layered as this. Even though my arms were bare, my whole body was hot. And, to my horror, there was a white satin bow as big as my face attached to my hip.

This was medieval, and I looked fucking comical.

“Try to smile,” Sonja noted. “You may hate the dress, but you’re pulling it off.”

“I feel happy to hear that,” I replied, dryly. “Ten grand for a piece of white fabric, after all.”

“You made no complaints when she drew it up for you.”

“Tony was the one who approved it in the end. Not me. And from memory, this bow wasn’t here.”

She gave the dress another quick look over. “I wonder if he was trying to be cruel.”

“No wondering required in that.”

Tony was known for being a brute. I was sure this was all on him. I had a reputation for being snarky. Maybe this was his way of humiliating me into silence.

Somewhere in the middle of her dressing me, the photographer showed up, her white smile blinding. Hired last second because the original had fallen suddenly ill, she didn’t know the situation. As far as she was concerned, I was just another stressed out bride about to go down the aisle to the man of my dreams.. She gave the door a strange look, but never mentioned it.

“I was told to bring this up from the front desk,” she said, handing over a bottle of expensive champagne to Sonja with a warm smile.

Sonja took it, looking almost relieved at the sight of it. “Thank God.”

“Who’s it from?” I wondered.

“Shane. I asked him to get one. You know, in case…”

In case I lost my shit.

Shane was my bodyguard, of course absent when I needed him more this morning after Tony’s abrupt visit. It wasn’t a surprise, because Shane knew his place, and it was going to be under Tony’s command soon enough.

Sonja waved the bottle in the air and gave me a questionable look. I nodded, knowing exactly the question behind those eyes. She immediately ran to the kitchenette and fetched two wine glasses. The pop of the champagne lid followed a minute later.

“Shall I get this started?” the photographer asked when Sonja returned, handing me a glass of bubbly goodness.

“Go for it,” she answered for me. “And try to make our bride look happy.”

The photographer stood close to me, her massive camera covering half her face, the scent of her citrusy-scented hairspray assaulting my nostrils. She started taking pictures. Hot burning anger travelled to my face. I had the urge to shove the camera out of sight. It was capturing moments I didn’t want to reflect on. Moments I didn’t want to ever remember again. Everywhere I turned, the lens was in my face, a prison of click-clicks and flashing light. Now I didn’t just feel constricted in my dress, but in this room too.

Things escalated rapidly after that, and I refused to part with my champagne. I saw flashes all around me. So, I sipped. Heard the arrival of the make-up artist. So, I sipped some more. Felt Sonja tugging me down on a chair. Sip, guzzle, guzzle. Hands directed my head up. Creams were rubbed into my skin. Fake eyelashes were placed. Layers of foundation, mascara and beauty products came next. Guzzle, guzzle, guzzle. Refill. They made me look like a life-sized Barbie doll, and nothing like the tunnel girl from my past.

The only thing keeping me going was the champagne Sonja kept topping into our glasses, easing my nerves by drowning me in alcohol. To be fair, it was working.

“Try to look like you’re not going to your execution,” Sonja whispered in my ear. “There couldn’t be a more miserable bride.”

“It’s normal to have cold feet,” the photographer piped in, her eyes warm. “Your life feels like it’s ending. No more dudes to bang. No more nights out with the ladies without letting your other half know. But think of what you’re getting. You wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t love him, right?”

Sonja rolled her eyes and I just blankly stared at the woman as she took more pictures of my dead face. “Refill,” I directed Sonja, shaking my empty glass at her.

“Here, let me,” the photographer insisted, taking the glass from my hand. Sonja didn’t hesitate. She passed hers along too and we waited. Melancholy hung in the air between us.

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Sonja said quietly, looking my dress over. “I remember all the times we talked about what our weddings would be like when we were kids. When we didn’t know any better. Feels like a lifetime ago.”

“Didn’t I want a banana wedding cake?” I mused, smirking.

Sonja nodded, solemnly. “You said some old man called you a little monkey once, and that was what started it all. You wanted real bananas bordering a cake with a monkey bride and groom centrepiece.”

“I loved the animal kingdom.”

“It was disturbing.”

We laughed, even though tears sprang to our eyes. What a time to remember. Us as innocent little girls, completely unaware our world of money and privilege was funded by our mobster fathers who dabbled in all things illegal. At first, it had all felt like a dream come true. Taken in by a man who saved me from the tunnel, from Bogeyman, only to be locked away like a princess in a tower.

I shuddered at the memories. Sometimes it felt like a lifetime ago. Other times it felt as though it happened yesterday.

The photographer returned with our glasses, and we didn’t hesitate to down them, exchanging sad glances in the process. Sonja squirmed just then and whispered, “Are you scared about what comes after?”

“After we leave this hotel room, or after the ceremony?”

She wouldn’t meet my eye. “After the ceremony.”

I swallowed, quavering a bit. “You mean the consummation.”

She nodded once, barely muttering, “Yeah. Do you…Do you think it’s going to hurt?”

My voice was dry. “Has it ever not?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either. I just know I’m not someone’s plaything.”

“You’ve been thinking about it a lot,” she observed.

“Yeah, I’m thinking about it,” I answered, truthfully. “I’m thinking how I’ll fight back. Thinking how the only way he’ll keep me still is with that knife inside me.”

Her eyes widened in horror as she finally looked up at me. She was speechless. I clenched my teeth, fighting back the burn behind my eyes. I was so angry, but it was fuel to me, this anger. It kept me upright. Kept me fighting back the inevitable.

The consummation was weighing heavy on my mind. The fear was like a noose. Every moment we were drawing nearer, I imagined that rope around my neck tightening. It was getting harder to breathe.

“He made sure I was still in one piece.” I scoffed, remembering. “Had the doctor looking inside me to confirm I’m a…” I ground my teeth harder, feeling every inch of me burn with rage and humiliation. “Who does that, Sonja? Who the fuck does that?”

Sonja shuddered. “He wanted you to feel cheap, Liv.”

Yeah, I felt it alright. All because I didn’t gush over him, or treat him like a prize. He had expected some floozy, like some of the other girls in our world, to bend over backwards to please him. He thought he was hot shit, but all I saw was a man who was reaping his father’s rewards and pretending he earned them. There was nothing respectable about that, and my father knew it too, but, as I liked to remind myself, a deal is a deal.

When our ride arrived, reality was harder to face than ever. My feet felt like cement blocks. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to stand by the window one last time and watch the people move, but there was no time.

Right before we left, I stood in front of the mirror a final time and raked my eyes over every inch of my body. I couldn’t help but feel like my life was over.

And the sad part was, I didn’t think it had ever begun in the first place.

 

 

“I can’t breathe,” I told Sonja on the limo ride to the chapel. The world felt heavy to me, and my stomach twisted in nausea. Too much champagne on an empty stomach. I was going to be a drunk bride walking down the aisle.

Dolled up in a short, pink bridesmaid dress, she gave my knee a squeeze. “I know how you feel, Liv. You can do this.”

“No, I mean I literally can’t breathe.” I squirmed in my seat, my hand pressed against the corset top where my heart was.

She frowned. “It fit like a glove when you wore it last week.”

“A lot can happen in a week.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that I’ve had a lot of comfort food between then and now.”

“Why?”

I gave her a pointed look. “I’m marrying a psychopath, Sonja. I thought that warranted puff-pastries, don’t you think?”

She cracked a smile tinged with sadness. “You never know. He might not be so bad, Liv. Some of these men have a soft spot.”

Some being the relative word. I doubted a man who wanted to stick the handle end of his knife inside me was part of that minority.

“He broke the hotel door down,” I reminded her, raising my brows.

“Maybe he was eager to see you.” From her expression, I knew she could taste the bullshit in her words.

I laughed sardonically. “Eager to see his gift, and we know how men treat their women in this world.”

Well, there were two ways they treated their women as far as I knew.

One, like used tissue.

Two, like trophies.

And was there really any difference between those two?

“Liv, did he really mean the thing about the blade?” she then asked, her voice going high with worry.

“What sort of joke would that be if he didn’t mean it?”

Her eyes widened. “Oh, god.”

“He doesn’t scare me,” I added quickly, because I could see the concern in her. We grew up together in very similar upbringings. Boarding school, body guards, all the works, with the only difference being her father cared for her. She took that for granted sometimes.

Her brown eyes turned glassy. “Do you mean that?”

“I do. He’s a slimy bastard inheriting his dead father’s seat at the table. Just another Italian counterpart who sends his men to do his dirty work. If we’re lucky, he’ll be dead within a few years, just like all the other young dicks trying hard to prove something to themselves. All I have to do is survive this.”

“Won’t you be passed along to someone else if he dies?”

Her words chilled me, but I let out a controlled breath. “Not if I…” I paused, not wanting to finish that thought. I glanced out the window instead, and fought the dread climbing up my throat, threatening to choke me. I finished that thought in my head, only my mind to tell me what I didn’t want to say out loud.

Not if I had a baby.

I’d be protected if I had a child to inherit the seat one day.

Our world may have been layered in secrecy, but the power was controlled by a very simple familial hierarchy that extended to other associated families. Every faction, or family, had a seat at the table so long as business was conducted peacefully and fairly. Tony’s faction was waning in strength since the loss of his father. Tony was power hungry, and he’d made impulsive decisions that cost him a lot of business, or so I heard. He was losing respect fast, hence his rush for marriage. He had hardly waited for me to finish my business degree when he’d pushed for it. Solidifying his position with my father was a necessity he couldn’t afford to lose, and my father had no choice but to agree. Our union was agreed upon years ago when the alliances were at the height of the game. When loyalty mattered and snitches paid the cost. And like any good businessman, once you give your word you must stick to it. I felt like cattle, sold and rustled along for slaughter, but in place of the hot ironing, my brand was going to be in the form of a wedding ring.

But no matter how desperate I currently felt, the thought of using a child like a safety net made me ill. I could hardly imagine the journey I would have to undertake just getting there; I’d sooner die than let Tony’s slimy fingers touch me consensually.

Who would I contact for those magic pills?

A wave of cloudiness washed over me, and my head went light. I shook my head to clear it.

“We had too much to drink,” Sonja remarked, her blinks slowing.

Had we? I had downed two glasses all up over a period of two hours. Was I really that much of a lightweight?

“At this rate, they’ll be carrying me down the aisle,” I muttered.

She went quiet, holding a hand to her head as she gazed unfocusedly out the window. I leaned back and let my head rest against her shoulder.

“We have each other,” she comforted me, softly. “No matter what, there is us and that’s what’s worth sticking around for.”

I hummed in agreeance. Her hand searched mine, and we squeezed each other tight. I glimpsed down at our manicured nails, getting lost in them as they blurred and doubled. I felt relaxed. Too relaxed, actually. Like I was about to fall asleep.

It didn’t feel right.

I shook my head again, trying to get rid of the cloudiness.

“I feel like I’m going to pass out,” Sonja groaned. “Like I haven’t slept in days.”

I tried to nod, but even that took effort. “I feel that way too.”

“We shouldn’t have had anything to drink.”

I was too tired to respond. I rested my eyes shut for a few seconds at a time. Maybe a power nap was in order.

When the car finally began to slow down, I forced my face up and glanced out the window through heavy eyelids.

“We’re here,” I whispered, just as confusion hit me like a lightning bolt when my eyes landed on the grey-stone chapel.

It was empty. Not a soul lurked by. The decorative flowers I’d reluctantly chosen were there, but the heavy grey doors were shut. Why was it shut? The confusion swirled within me slowly, growing stronger as I began to process this. There should have been over a hundred-people present, bustling through the chapel, pretending to give a shit. Expensive cars should have been parked up and down the street. Instead, it looked absolutely deserted. It was like there was no wedding taking place at all.

Hope emerged in me suddenly and fiercely. Shaking, I looked at Sonja, my body instantly alight with purpose. Her eyes were shut, her lips parted as she took quiet, slow breaths.

“Sonja.” I tugged on her hand. “Wake up. You have to see this.”

But she wasn’t waking up. I dropped her hand and leaned over her body, pressing my face against the glass, trying to make sense of this. Had my father stopped the wedding? He must have. Why else was the chapel vacant?

Had my father grown a conscience?

No, no, don’t be stupid, Liv! That didn’t make any sense. This was my father. The businessman. The unfeeling man I’d come to know over my 16 years of life with him.

Now I wasn’t so hopeful anymore. Pulling back, I scooted to the other side of the limo and opened the door. The hot air hit me, instantly making my head feel even lighter. I stumbled out of the limo on shaky legs and took cautious steps toward the chapel. I made it five steps when the fog hit again, and my legs buckled. One second I was standing, the next I’d fallen forward, landing on my elbows and knees. Pain shot through me, but dulled quickly in the wake of the overwhelming sleepiness. I tried to pick my head up, but I couldn’t. Instead, I found myself relaxing in the middle of the road, those blinks getting slower, my head growing heaver.

What the hell was happening?

My mind screamed its last coherent words to me. Look at Sonja! Look what’s happening to you! What do you think is happening?

Terror washed over me.

We’d been drugged.

I shut my eyes, the darkness shrouding me. My mind nearly wandered off right then and there when I heard sudden shouts all around me. I opened my eyes, my heart rate spiking at the sound of a gunshot piercing the air. It sounded too close for comfort. I scrambled, trying to get to my feet, but my legs were paralysed in place. The shouts drew closer, accompanied by a series of footsteps. Arms wrapped around me. I was conscious enough to know I was being lifted into the air and brought to another car. I couldn’t fight it. I was a limp piece of meat. I opened my eyes one more time to see one of Tony’s bodyguards bleeding out beside the wheel of the limo.

A second later, I was out.