Page 61 of Possession

Rafael chuckles. “There was never anyone I wanted to give a chance.”

She scrunches her nose as she surveys me. The disgust on her face saying I’m nothing more than dirt on her shoe. “She doesn’t even look like a grown woman. Really, Rafael, are you into that shit?”

The fury radiates from him. The way his fists tighten on his cutlery and the way the veins on his tattooed neck pulsate have me rushing to defuse the situation, knowing only Oliver will suffer. With that in mind, I sit forward and lean onto the table. “For someone so keen on dinner with her son, who she hasn’t seen for months, you haven’t paid him any attention. In fact, I don’t think you’ve even spoken to him yet.”

Her eyes narrow on me. “My son is my business, not yours. He’ll love me however I treat him because I’m his mother.” She flicks her hair over her shoulder again and smiles. “I gave birth to him, not you.” Her words slice through me like a dagger, and I feel myself pale, thinking about their unbreakable bond. “So you can play happy families all you want, but he’ll always choose me.” Then her lip tips up into a snide smirk I want to wipe from her perfectly made-up face. Her words cut deep, deeper than anyone would ever know. I wish he was mine; I wish the little boy staring back at me, with beautiful black eyes like his father’s, was mine in blood as much as love.

A longing takes hold of me, a pang so deep in my heart I feel cheated, like he’s within reach but will never truly be mine.

I’ll always just be the nanny that sleeps with his dad.

His father’s mistress.

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them away, determined to remain strong and get through this farce as quickly as possible.

As I seek Oliver’s little gaze, his thoughts seeping out of him like an open book, spilling from him.

Every moment we’ve shared, every tear I’ve wiped away, each bedtime story I’ve read him. They’re all there in his eyes.

My little man loves me as much as I love him. I smile back at him, feeling the words he struggles to say. He gives me a coy smile in return, as if confirming, and that little smile alone strengthens my resolve, so I broaden my shoulders, refusing to let her words hurt me further.

“Do you like the trees, Oliver?” I point to the broccoli that sits tall on his plate. Since realizing Oliver picks at his food, I’ve made a conscious effort to create a meal plan around him, something I’ve passed onto Rosalita and the chefs, and it’s working to encourage him.

“Ohhhh god, you’re one of them, aren’t you?” Her dramatic drone echoes in the room.

I reluctantly meet the witch’s eyes and lift an eyebrow. “One of what?”

“A do-gooder. You do realize this is a Mafia life. The boy will be a killer the moment he turns thirteen, and if he’s anything like his father, he’ll be fucking whores by then too.”

“Enough!” Rafael booms, and Oliver looks to me for reassurance. I gift him a nod that he reciprocates.

Rafael’s phone cuts through the tension like a knife, and he lifts it to his ear. “What?” His shoulders tense. “Seriously? Fuck. I’m on my way.”

He pushes back in his chair and grabs his jacket, not giving any of us a second glance. “Ellie, put Oliver to bed.” He strides toward the door, throwing it open, taking with it a piece of my heart.

He left me here. Left me without so much as a goodbye.

Left me to deal with his fucking wife.

“Ahhh. Poor baby.” Nikita fake pouts, then claps her hands. “Still, that’s the way of the Mafia life. We just open our legs, let our bodies go to shit because we have to produce their heirs, and they go and fuck every whoring nanny while we remain on lockdown, expected to not have a life.” She sighs.

I blink. Then I blink again. The way she speaks as if Oliver doesn’t exist is appalling. “Oliver, buddy. Why don’t you go and get your pjs on? I’ll bring you milk and a cookie. Choose a story for me to read, will you?”

“The ca-cat-caterpillar one?”

“He can’t even fucking speak right yet. Did your father not hire therapists for this shit?” She stares down at him with so much animosity it bleeds from her, and a sickening feeling swirls in my stomach. She despises him.

My heart catches in my throat. Then, as my need to shield him from her poison kicks in, I smile toward him. “Oliver, go now, buddy. Get The Hungry Caterpillar one.” He slides off his chair and sulks out of the room while I turn my attention back to the bitch sitting across from me.

“Listen here, you little slut. Don’t think for one minute you can come in here trying to take my family away from me. You’re nobody special. Rafael will be out there fucking whores and coming home to you, giving you God knows what. There’s no getting rid of me. I’m his wife, and he knows if he even tried, he’d hurt his precious son.”

How she speaks with such calculated confidence has my heart hammering against my chest. Of course, Rafael said it himself that the only way out is death, and he admitted to never wanting to hurt her, in fear of hurting his son. She knows she holds him trapped with her.

But something inside me snaps. Maybe it’s the way she talks down to me, or how she speaks so confidently about her position, or is it the way she talks about Oliver so begrudgingly? Without giving it another thought, I let my words tumble from me. “Nikita, the only thing Rafael gives me is his cum, repeatedly.”

Her eyes widen as shock covers her face before she quickly masks it. “At least when he came inside me, it was for an heir. He’s abusing your body for no reason other than you’re stupid enough to let him, and if you got pregnant, you and your child would be an outcast. The mistress and the bastard.” She giggles with cruel glee. “Society will hate you and that baby. But Oliver will hate you more for it.”

Her words gut me. It’s true. Every word of it is true, no matter how vicious.

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