Chapter 12

Z A RA

I wake up to the sun shining through my windows. I raise my left hand to cover the sun rays shining into my eyes when the familiar ring gleams, reminding me of my grim life. I stare at the clock, my eyes finally settling, "It's noon already?!"

I run to the washroom for a shower. The lingering stinging pain in my core is still present but less apparent than last night.

I quickly change into a comfortable new pair of pajamas, trying to ignore the events of last night for the sake of my deteriorating mental health. My eyes widen at the thought that Alejandro might've texted or called.

"When I call or text you, I expect a reply within five minutes or I will assume you're disobeying me. You should be nearby the phone at all times."

I scurry to my phone, which is charging on my nightstand beside my bed.

No new calls or texts. I sigh a breath of relief. I walk out to see that my lunch is being set up by a woman, who's probably in her late twenties or early thirties.

She's so pretty... I think to myself.

"Good afternoon," I greet her with a smile.

She looks at me, absolutely terrified.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," I quickly say, taking a step back.

She bows slightly, "I'll be out of your way in a few minutes, ma'am."

"No, no, take your time!" I reassure her. "Would you like some help?"

Her eyes widen even more, "No, ma'am. That would be inappropriate."

"I have nothing else going on, I would love to help," I'm actually desperate to do some housework. I never thought I'd say this.

She sighs, "I'm so sorry, ma'am. But Boss would not appreciate this. He has a set number of—"

"—rules," I finish for her. "And he wouldn't appreciate you breaking them or else there will be consequences."

She nods.

"Did he say anything about not keeping me company?" I ask with a small amount of hope. She pauses, not sure about how to answer. Right then, my phone rings.

"Excuse me," I excuse myself from the woman and walk into a nearby room.

"Good afternoon," I greet Alejandro.

"You woke up late today," he states.

"I'm sorry, I didn't notice the time or hear my alarm," there's sudden panic in my voice.

"No worries, my love. However, I would prefer if you are awake before 10:00 AM on most days," his voice is cold, back to the man I'm terrified of. "I'll arrive home in about 45 minutes, along with a marriage official. We'll be signing our papers to make us husband and wife in the eyes of the law."

Law? As if that's something that matters to him.

"Dress appropriately," he instructs. "I expect you will not make a scene this time."

"Yes, Sir," the 'sir' accidentally slips out but Alejandro seems to approve. He hangs up without a goodbye. By the time I'm back in the dining room, the woman had already finished setting up my lunch and left.

I drop to the floor, muffling my sudden cries with the hand covering my mouth.

How long can I do this? How long can I pretend that everything will be okay for the sake of my loved ones? I'm not strong, I'm not going to make it. I try to chew a piece of lettuce from the salad but I can't taste anything. 30 more minutes, I think to myself, I don't have time to eat, I have to look decent or else—

Don't think about it.

Don't think about his punishments.

I run to my closet and pick out a silk dress in a baby pink color. "This is appropriate, right?" I ask myself as I gaze at my reflection in the mirror. I've lost some weight but not in a good way. I look... skeleton-like. My cheeks are sulking in, my under-eye bags are darker, and my cheeks losing their natural tint. I try my best to cover up my distress using the makeup provided to me and slip on a white chiffon hijab.

I sigh, "I wish I was..."

"You wish you were what?" Alejandro's voice makes me freeze.

"Nothing," I quickly answer.

"No, I want to know," his authoritarian tone slips in.

"I wish I was getting married under better circumstances," I tell the truth, squeezing my eyes shut at what he might do. He takes quick, long steps toward me until he reaches my back.

"Of course you do," he whispers in my ear. "It'll go smoothly if you're obedient."

He knows that's not what I mean, he knows.

"You look beautiful, my love," he says smoothly as he wraps his arms around my waist from the back.

My heart skips a beat but I don't know if it's from being flustered or because of fear.

I slowly meet his gaze in the full-length mirror, which was a mistake.

He's staring at me away like a wild animal stares at its prey before devouring it. There's no warmth or intimacy in his eyes—it's just straight hunger.

"Don't forget to put a smile on your face when you sign the papers," he grins, baring his white teeth as a form of intimidation.

"Though we are legally married, I will be referring to you as my fiancée in public," he explains. "The Cosa nostra would not appreciate their absence at my wedding, so, until our event, we are known to be only engaged, understood?"

"Yes, Sir," my voice is quiet.

He intertwines his fingers through mine,

"You're mine, Zara. You'll forever be mine, marriage or no marriage. Don't ever forget that."

His words send chills down my spine.

• • •

"Just sign here and here," the man says.

My shaky hands manage to sign chicken scrap. He made me redo it a couple of times because it wasn't matching my legal papers.

"That's all. Congratulations on becoming Mister and Missus Genovese," he smiles. "I'll have the rest of the paperwork finished and mailed to you by the end of the week."

"Thank you," Alejandro shakes the man's hand. Once the man closes the door behind him, my heart drops.

"Sit," he pats the empty spot beside him on the couch.

Alejandro loosens the tie around his neck, unbuttoning the first few buttons on his shirt. I slowly make my way there and take a seat beside him. Sweat is already accumulating on my forehead from my nerves. He uses his index finger to brush down my cheek, making me slightly flinch at his touch. He notices but chooses to ignore it this time.

"You look stunning in silk, it suits you. It carries you with elegance," he places a hand on my waist. "But I'd like to see it off."

My eyes widen and my jaw drops. "O-off?"

"Now," he demands. "Strip."

"I–I can't," I whisper desperately. "P-Please don't make m-me do t-this," my shaky hands cling to my dress as a form of protection.

"Are you disobeying me again, my wifey?" His tone is full of annoyance, as he emphasizes the word 'wifey'. "And, here, I thought we were on an agreement."

"Please, Alejandro! I can't fight you," I admit, I don't have the verbal dominance to argue with him or the physical dominance to overpower him. "I know that but please don't do this to me."

He pushes me down on the couch while taking off my scarf in one swift motion, "Wrong choice, my love. If you had just stripped, I would've left it at that but I see that you need to be punished again."

Tears spring free as I squint my eyes shut, "How do you expect me to obey your demands when it's always a disrespect towards me?"

"You're in no position to be speaking to me in this manner, my love," he aggressively tugs at my collar, ripping the material down the center.

"You're a monster..." I say quietly through my ongoing tears as I grip the couch tightly.

"I know, my love. And that's how I always get what I want," he smirks as he kisses down the nape of my neck. "Since we have been wedded today, I'll be much gentler with the punishment."