Page 21 of Fatal Sloth

“Sebastiano will be the new Morelli Don soon enough,” Marie whispers, more directed at me than explicitly saying it to Nico.

“Nice to meet you,” I respond, shaking his hand. Aside from the expensive fitted suit and burly demeanor, I discern an unmistakable resemblance between the two.

“What can my stupid cousin be doing that is more important than spending his wedding night with his new bride?” Nico questions sarcastically.

As soon as the words leave his mouth, tears that I'd been trying my best to hold back all day come flooding out. I'm not sure if his words were meant to hurt me or be a dig at my new husband. Fat tears trail down my face, carrying the layers of mascara with them, and the black-tinged tears drop on the stupid dress, tainting it like my day has been.

Between my sobs, I hear Marie tell Nico to get out of the room. Without looking back at him, I hear the door click shut. It is wrong to assume Marie left with him when I listen to her humming in the ensuite, running bathwater.

Her tone softens as she turns back to me. “Come, child, I'll help you out of this dress and into a nice warm bath. It will help soothe you,” she says gently.

Allowing Marie to unhook the corset back and help me out of the dress, she guides me to the large bathroom.

Walking past the mirror, I finally catch a glimpse of the state I'm in. Black mascara streaks run down my face, and the foundation looks like it's melting off my skin from the stream of tears that continue to fall down my face. I’m a mess.

The whole bathroom is steaming, the tub is filled with hot milky water, and the inviting scent of tangerine wafts through the air. I can't wait to get into the water and wash the day away.

“I’ll get you a towel and a change of clothes, Mia Cara,” she says as she leaves me to soak my sorrows away in my thoughts.

Normally, I'd be embarrassed to be naked in front of anyone, but Marie feels like the grandmother that everyone wants to have—loving and gentle, yet still strong enough to kick Nico’s 6-foot butt out of the room. The calming water helps me regain my composure and get my emotions in check.

I can do this. I can do this. This becomes my mantra, repeated over and over.

Slipping my face under the water, I work to remove all of this over-caked makeup. A fresh face and being out of that dress already makes me feel better. I can't help but wonder why I care that my husband showed up to our wedding drunk and then just passed me off to one of his soldiers. He didn't even bother to spend his wedding night with his new bride. I know I'm being stupid. This is a marriage of convenience, not a fairy tale. Certainly not what any girl hopes for when dreaming up their wedding as a little girl.

Soaking in the tub for a while, finally, clarity starts to come back to me. If we do share a room, he would have certain expectations––expectations I don’t want to fulfill. At least not tonight. Now, I'm glad he thought this through because clearly, I didn’t. I really didn’t think past the actual wedding.

Grabbing one of the towels Marie brought in, I dry off with one and wrap my hair in another. Slowly walking into the bedroom, unsure who could be there, I see Marie sitting at the vanity. "Have a seat, Mia Cara, and I will dry your hair for you."

“You don't have to. I can manage,” I reply softly.

“Nonsense. I am here to help you adjust to this life and help you with everything,” Marie says as she pulls the towel off my hair and starts to brush my tangled locks.

“Think of me as a second mother or a Fairy Mafia-Mother,” she adds with a warm smile.

A lump starts to form in my throat, her words striking a nerve. I was ready for Sebastiano to be an asshole, but I wasn’t prepared for such kindness. God, I’m an emotional wreck today.

Sitting in the vanity chair as she starts working on my hair, I meet her gaze through the mirror and notice bright blue-gray eyes reflecting back at me. We share a brief smile before she resumes.

After Marie finishes my hair, she hands me a pair of joggers and a tank top to change into. “We will need to get you everyday clothes to wear, but this will do for today. After all, you should be comfortable on your first day home. Now, let's get you something to eat. You must be famished, Mia Cara.”

Once I’m dressed, I follow Marie down the stairs and find Nico and another brute deep in conversation. Ignoring him, I stick close to Marie as we walk through the main living room. The cold elegance of my new surroundings immediately strikes me. The air is heavy with the scent of expensive cologne mingling with the hint of cigar smoke.

Exquisite works of art adorn the walls––paintings and sculptures that showcase wealth. Crystal chandeliers bathe the marble floors in a warm, golden glow. Everywhere I look, there are signs of luxury – from the plush velvet draperies to the intricately carved furniture filling the room.

But beyond the lavish decor lies a sense of history, leaving me breathless. This mansion must have witnessed the generations of Morellis, each leaving their mark on the place.

This is my first day in Sebastiano's mansion, and I feel a bit overwhelmed and alone. I wander the halls, hoping to distract myself from the solitude pressing in on me. However, as I find myself drawn towards the kitchen, a wave of apprehension washes over me. Memories of my father's strict rules flood my mind, reminding me of the consequences I faced for even setting foot in his domain without permission.

Lost in my thoughts, I'm startled by Marie's appearance in the doorway. Her warm smile is a welcome relief. "Hey, Mia, everything okay?" she asks, her concern evident in her voice.

I swallow nervously, suddenly feeling like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Um, I was just... looking for something to snack on," I mumble, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "But I... I'm not sure if I'm allowed to be in here." Marie's eyes widen in shock at my words, her expression one of genuine surprise. And then, to my astonishment, Marie looks over to another man standing in the kitchen with her. She introduces him as Roman, Sebastiano’s personal chef. Roman gives me a warm smile and continues to cook, not saying anything to me

"Mia, of course you're allowed in the kitchen," Marie says gently, her voice filled with reassurance. "This is your home now, and you're welcome to be here whenever you like."

But as Marie speaks, doubts and fears creep into my mind, reminding me of the horrors I've endured at the hands of my father. Marie doesn't know what he's capable of – what he would do to me if he found out I'd snuck into the kitchen. And it wasn't just when I was a child; it happened as recently as yesterday. Marie's eyes soften with sympathy, and she reaches out to place a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Your father isn't here, Mia," she says softly. "And you're not a child anymore. You're a grown woman, and you have every right to be here."

Her words sink in, but I'm still haunted by the memories of my father's anger and abuse. Tears well up in my eyes as I shudder at the thought. Yet, despite my fears, I find comfort in Marie's reassurance.

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