Page 4 of Scar

The room feels colder now, the walls pressing in as if bearing witness to this perverse union. My mind races for solutions, escape routes from this nightmare that has so violently hijacked my life. But with each passing second, the bindings feel tighter, the options fewer.

I meet Scar’s eyes again, burning with a quiet fire. If survival means playing his game and dancing with the devil himself, then so be it. As long as there is breath in my lungs and strength in my bones, this isn't over. Not by a long shot.

“Fine,” I say aloud, pushing the signed pre-nup across the desk towards him. “But remember this—games have players and players can change the rules.”

His smile flickers, replaced momentarily by doubt—a crack in his façade that I plan to pry open if it's the last thing I do.

CHAPTER 5 – ALLEGRA

The bastard forbade me from bringing anything besides the dress on my back when I left my family home. I wasn't even allowed to pack my make-up. I had to leave everything behind, including my phone and all my possessions.

Juliana, who I’ve since learnt is the housekeeper who will “tend to my needs” shows me to my room. I’ve seen apartments smaller than this. The room is spacious and well-furnished, with a majestic king-sized bed as the centerpiece. The walls are a soft cream color, accented by elegant wallpaper and artwork. A large walk-in closet stands in one corner, its doors open to reveal rows of neatly organized clothing. Beside it is a full ensuite, complete with a luxurious bathtub and a sleek modern shower. The carpet underfoot is plush and soft, inviting you to sink your feet into its comfort.It’s absolute luxury, but it’s cold and uninviting, a stark reminder that it’s not home.

“Everything you could possibly need is in the closet,” she tells me, guiding me through a door. There are clothes and shoes everywhere, all in my size, but nothing I’ve selected. I gag when faced with drawers full of underwear, all in beautiful silks and laces and fabrics which should be banished from this house. There are pajamas and nightgowns and robes and slippers; I can’t see that there is anything I could possibly need that hasn’t been catered for.

In the bathroom, I find all the makeup and accessories I generally use – all brand new and still in their original packaging. My eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I wonder how they could possibly know what brands I prefer.

When we emerge from the ensuite, one of his brothers is leaning up against the doorframe, his tie loosened as he watches us with interest. He’s a younger version of Scar, although I’m not sure where he rates on the age pendulum.

“Like the room?” he asks.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I snap.

I’m in no mood to entertain any of the Gatti brothers, not after my day from hell.

“Oooh, sassy,” he laughs, pushing off the doorframe.

Juliana excuses herself nervously and makes her way out of the room, asking me to call her when I’m ready to get out of my dress. That would be yesterday, I consider telling her retreating figure as the hallway swallows her.

“I’m Luca,” he introduces himself, walking casually into the room. “But everyone calls me Lucky.”

“That must be so nice for you. I’m sure you know who I am. Now please get out.”

He throws his head back and roars with laughter, thoroughly amused at my expense. I don’t understand it. I was aiming to offend him with my rudeness, not amuse him.

This younger version of Scar seems to have a sense of humor, where my would-be husband seems to have lost his, possibly as he was being pushed out of his mother’s vagina.

Still smarting from Scar’s comment about my death earlier, I consider all the Gattis in mortal danger from my wrath now. This one is no exception.

“You should save the attitude for my brother,” he warns. “Lord knows you’re going to need it.”

“What do you want?” I ask again, now irritated by his presence in my room. If I’m going to be a prisoner in my own room, I’d like to at least do it in peace.

“I’m the welcoming committee,” he chuckles. “Come to see if there’s anything you need, sis.”

“The only thing I need right now is a 9mm, preferably loaded. Not faulty. A silencer would be a bonus.”

For some reason, Lucky Gatti seems to think I’m hilarious. And the more he laughs, the more irritated I get that he’s besting me. When he won’t go away, I call Juliana on the phone by the bedside and tell her it’s time for me to get out of my dress. I would do it myself, but I don’t have access to a pair of scissors, so I’ll need her help.

The call is enough to get Lucky moving, and he scurries out like the rat he is when Juliana arrives once more to my room.

“I will have it laundered and covered in a dust bag then brought back,” she tells me, musing at what a beautiful dress it is.

“Burn it,” I tell her, my voice flat and emotionless.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Gatti?”

“Burn it. And it’s Allegra.”

---