Page 41 of Malevolent King

These monthly visits to Anna’s dress shop were always a low point. My father dictated not only where I went and who I was friends with but also how I dressed and looked, down to the smallest details. He was more interested in my diet and weight than I’d ever been. When I was younger, he made me stand on the scale in front of him. As an adult, he relied on Anna to monitor me once a month. Like any thoroughbred animal that aimed to fetch a good price at market, I had to be carefully maintained.

I dug the little pin into my palm. It helped to soothe my black mood and hopeless anger from showing on my face.

“It’s going well. I think we were nearly finished,” I said, smiling hopefully at Anna.

She flushed, wringing her hands. “Almost, sir. I need to make some adjustments and let the waist out a little.”

Antonio reached for a broadsheet newspaper, so creaseless it looked like it had been ironed. He cocked an eyebrow at me.“Why are Anna’s measurements wrong, Sofia?”

Because she’s a sadist who likes to control my body almost as much as you do.

I forced a shrug. “Water retention?”

My father’s flat stare told me he didn’t appreciate my excuse. “I’ll let Carmella know you’re not to have salt in that case, in anything.”

Great, sounds delicious.I swallowed the hard knot of hate and anger in my throat and simply nodded. In my head, I was brave, a spitfire who talked back to my father and didn’t let him grind me to dust under his heel. In my head, I liked the person I was, but none of it was real. The only person I’d ever been real with, I’d helped to lock away in the basement. Only Nikolai Chernov had heard that internal voice, the man I should be more scared of than my own family. What that meant, I had no fucking clue.

For a second, furious tears threatened to dash down my cheeks, but a quick jab of the pin into the soft skin at the base of my thumb helped to calm my upset. I pushed it further, cupping my hand to catch the drops of blood.

There it was. The calm in the eye of the storm.

“Of course, Father,” I replied dutifully.

“You owe me, Sofia, for the engagement debacle. The stain on your reputation is a stain on mine, and I won’t allow it.”

I dropped my father’s emotionless gaze. Not only was I an asset to be leveraged, but being anything short of perfect was intolerable to Antonio De Sanctis.

“Now, come on,Zio, it can hardly be Sofia’s fault that she isn’t to everyone’s tastes,” a loud, arrogant voice called.

A shudder went through me as my cousin drifted into view, followed by my uncle. Silvio was a good ten years older than me and one of the worst people I’d ever met. I hated him even more than my father. My hatred for Silvio knew no bounds, only growing since the fateful night with Nikolai and the poker game that had changed my life.

Silvio gave me a long, slow look from the tips of my bare toes peeking beneath the hem of the pale dress up to my shoulders. His dark eyes gleamed with want, the kind that made my skin crawl. He wet his thick lips, an unconscious movement, and shifted his belt a fraction.

Only the pin in my hand kept me steady. I fantasized about jumping off the platform and striding to Silvio. I’d slap him for looking me over like I was a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop. He’d have no idea the pin was in my hand until it stuck in one of the jelly-like orbs currently focused on my chest.

“Sofia? Don’t daydream, it makes you look simple,” my father snapped at me, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Sorry, Papa,” I muttered. A windup toy lurching back into its pre-programmed routine.

He studied me with reptilian eyes, unblinking and unemotional, then turned his attention to Anna. “For this dress, Sofia will need something pretty underneath, matching, white, something that reflects her purity.”

“Underneath?” I repeated lamely as Anna pulled out a notepad and jotted down my father’s sickening orders. “Why does it matter what’s beneath?”

“Why do you think?” Silvio snickered by the door.

A look from my father shut him up. “That’s not for you to worry about. Since you’re spoiled goods in the eyes of society, we have to move quickly to fix the situation before you become worthless. I need you to do as you’re told and not waste time arguing about it. Don’t disappoint me again,figlia mia.”

The “or else” was unspoken. We both knew what it meant.Or else I’d disappoint Antonio. Men had died for less. A muted hysteria bubbled up inside me. He had someone in mind. As soon as I thought it, I knew it was true.

He stared at me expectantly.

I tried to remember how to pretend not to hate him and plastered on my best daughter's smile.“I know, Papa. I won’t.”

He stared me down for a moment longer, and I met his gaze unflinchingly. Antonio didn’t like those who refused to make eye contact with him.

“Brava, in that case, get changed. The dress will look fine once you slim down. Now, let’s go. We can’t be late for Sunday lunch.”

He left without another word, and I scrambled to get ready. He’d only wait five minutes for me to get changed. I knew from experience. I caught sight of myself in the mirror. With Antonio’s words echoing in my head, I’d never felt more lacking or more scared. He had someone in mind to marry me off to; it was obvious.

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