Page 33 of Call You Mine

Smile but never show your teeth. Do as you’re told, yet never be a pushover. Behave like a lady until they need you to be their whore. Repeat as many times as is necessary until your future is secured.

That was the mantra ingrained in my mind since the day I was old enough to understand my place in this vile society. Which in my case was the day I turned fifteen and my mother so kindly scheduled a house call with her physician to get me on birth control. It would have been different had she done it for my well-being, not that I was even interested in sex, but her reasoning was far from altruistic.

An unplanned pregnancy would not only ruin my figure and reputation, but it’d ruin my future and any chance I had of securing an equally beneficial marriage.

Beneficial to her, of course.

With wealth came responsibility, but with beauty came a duty. Arranged marriages were a dime a dozen amongst my peers. My two ex-best friends found themselves in one, evenStella nearly had. Not to mention my parents are currently still married, though I doubt they’ve seen each other in years.

Yet although I knew my future would be with someone I didn’t love or choose, I never expected it to be with a sick and demented monster–a man like my father.

Though it seemed fate had a funny way of fucking us when we least expected it.

Lying awake in bed, tossing and turning for the better part of four hours, I allow my mind to wander to one of my last nights in New York.

“You’re worthless, Snow,” he murmured in my ear, his rough fingertips covered in blood caressing my cheek in a way that made my skin crawl with disgust. “That’s why no one cares if you're gone, carina. There isn’t anyone in this world who’d come looking for you. Nor would I ever allow them to try.”

I closed my eyes to push back the tears that had been threatening to come out the moment we’d arrived at one of his casinos on the lower east side.

Dressed in a scarlet red dress he’d chosen for the night, one that per usual wrapped around every one of my curves like a second layer of skin, I entered on his arm with my head held high like it was my honor. Of course, from the moment we’d stepped foot through the front door, every eye in the room was on us.

On me.

My blonde hair glistened against the blood red of the dress that hung low on my chest and ended just above my thighs. It was less a dress and more just a piece of luxurious fabric wrapped around me and pinned with a delicate gold chain along my back, but it was exactly what Enzo preferred.

How else was he supposed to show off what he owned? They couldn’t envy him unless they saw every inch of what belonged to him.

After all that is exactly what I was to him, nothing more than a priceless possession he used to make others jealous of what he had.

An irreplaceable jewel whose shine reflected only on him.

It was no secret the people in his world believed he’d hit the jackpot in taking me as his wife. I was beautiful, young, and complacent–the ideal qualities of a mafia wife or any wife in particular. Not that Enzo was old, just shy of his thirtieth birthday, but his demeanor made him seem older, more mature than anyone his age. Maybe it was the aura of authority and fear he instilled in everyone around him. He’d been groomed to take the seat of Capo since the day he was born.

He wasn’t hideous either–olive skin, chocolate brown hair, and equally dark brown eyes that carried the weight of the entire world. Though his personality made him the most despicable devil, one I, not only loathed but also feared.

And now I was his wife, though that title meant nothing to me.

Our marriage was a sham. Luckily it had been quick, a simple signature on the dotted line below my name, metaphorically written in blood. We stood before a judge and Enzo sealed the deal with a chaste kiss to my cheek.

Despite what everyone believed, we never consummated our marriage. Enzo hadn’t ever touched me, and I had my own suspicions why–not that I’d ever voice them aloud to anyone. I didn’t have a death wish. Yet the fear of him one day changing his mind and forcing himself on me, never faded from the back of my mind.

Fear ensures the weak remain loyal, and betrayal was his number one fear. He knew I feared him more than anything and it was exactly how he wanted it.

Especially on nights like this one when his jealousy and possessiveness got the best of him.

“But by my side you are worth more than you could ever imagine,” Enzo reminded me, just like he did every single day.

Tonight was no exception. Tonight, the well deserving asshole who’d dared touch the wife of Enzo Marchesi, lay on the floor at my feet, an inch away from a merciful death. Merciful would be if he died, and not the agony that awaited him if Enzo was in the mood to play. After he’d put his hand on the small of my back while I waited at the bar for Enzo to finish his “meeting”, he’d been dragged down to the basement where we were now, and taught a lesson never to touch what belonged to his Capo.

Enzo was not only a cutthroat monster because he had to be, but he enjoyed every second too. The worst kind of predator because the thrill of the chase fascinated him before going in for the kill. It made him disgustingly aroused to see the look of terror in his victim’s eyes and watch every sign of life leave them. His own twisted fucking foreplay.

This wasn’t the first time I’d witnessed Enzo deliver one of his “warnings”, yet it seemed like despite the constant threat and whisperings of what would happen if they dared come near me, every time we were here some poor assholes couldn't resist.

I’d be flattered, if the mere thought of being touched by any man didn't utterly disgust me.

The lewd stares already made me sick to my stomach. I was content with spending the rest of my life without the touch of a man. I had my own ways of self-pleasure, an arsenal of toys that could keep me busy and satisfied for the rest of my life.

No one had touched me in almost three years. No one had fucked me since Damon.

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