Page 71 of Tainted Ties

We had become acquainted since Roman left, more so because I was alone and needed to focus on something other than the six-foot and six-inch man that occupied my mind.

I helped her around the manor even though she swatted my hands away whenever I went near the dishes or laundry.

Glancing up from my book, I smiled at her. “I wouldn’t mind eating lasagna again.”

She gave me a pointed look. “You’ve had that for three days in a row now.”

“Yet I can’t seem to get enough.” I hummed in satisfaction, already tasting the savory dish in my mouth.

Her grin was nurturing and warm. “Va bene.I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

I shut my book closed and stood up. “Can I help? I’ve been cooped up in this room all day.” Batting my eyelashes dramatically, I pouted. “Please?”

“Only because you didn’t clean the dishes this morning,” she sighed.

My grin was wide as I strode to her, wrapping an arm around her frail shoulders as she led us out of the door. “I’ll stop trying if you stop calling me Mrs. Mancini, as I’ve told you countless times.”

Her only response was a playful grunt as she patted my hand.

* * *

It had been a month since my mamma’s funeral, and I was a walking corpse. Unfeeling and soulless.

The house was quiet when I reached my parents’ bedroom door and pushed it open, the action causing a slight creak to tear through the silence.

No one was home and it was the only time I had to rummage through my mamma’s belongings and engrave every part of her into my memory.

I walked to her vanity and sat down, staring at my reflection in the mirror.

I didn’t recognize myself, not when my eyes were sunken from sleep deprivation and my cheeks hollowed out from loss of appetite.

I guess that’s what grief did to someone. It left them feeling foreign in their own skin.

Mamma’s shawl sat on top of the dresser, and I reached for it.

The material was soft as I brought it to my face, closing my eyes and inhaling deeply.

Her scent was all over it, soothing me from the inside.

And then I opened my eyes, brought back to the reality of her being gone and that I’d never see, hear, or smell her again.

“Aurora!” My father’s voice boomed through the house, forcing me onto my feet.

I put the shawl back in its original position before scurrying toward the door, but not before my father burst through.

I shook violently, fearing for myself and what punishment I’d receive today.

“I’ve told you countless times to stay out of this room!”

“I’m sorry, Papà,” I croaked, stumbling over my words.

He reached for me, grabbing my left arm roughly with his large hand. “You will be.”

“You’re hurting me,” I whined, feeling fresh tears stream down my face.

He dragged me out of the room and down the stairs.

I tried grasping onto the walls, furniture, anything to get away from him, but it was useless.

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