Page 45 of Alliance

“When I was a kid, he was in a rough place, still might be, I’m not sure. But his mother, my grandma, wanted contact with us kids even though he was out of the picture. So my ma took me and Elly there every Sunday after church. My grandmother—she gave me this.” I point to the charm now hanging from her throat. “Said she’d had it since she was a little girl. Someone had given it to her for their journey from Palermo to the States.” I swallow, unsure if I should tell her the next part of the story. “Her parents... died on the ship, but she didn’t. Since then, she believed the medal protected her.”

Lana blinks quickly. “That’s horrible,” she whispers.

“The day she gave it to me, my father came over to her house. He was going through withdrawal, looking for cash to get his next fix. She hid Elly and I in the bedroom when she saw him coming because she didn’t want us to see our father like that, ya know? But she didn’t have her medal because she had given it to me. So, I went out to help her. My father was in the kitchen, with a knife. When I ran for her, he waved the damn thing, making a six-inch cut down my thigh.” Instinctively, I touch the spot where he cut me.

“Naz,” she whispers, her eyes teary again.

“Missed everything vital.” I let a small smirk rise on my lips. “It might sound silly, Lana, but that medal made me go check on my grandma and we both lived.”

“But he cut you,” she breathes.

“But I lived.”

Her glassy eyes find mine and she leans against me, letting me hold her close. “But you lived,” she repeats my words, holding the medal close to her heart. “But youlived.”

Chapter Twenty

I FEEL LIKE A DOLLon Davis’ arm, just an ornament on display. A pretty object to make him look good, a successful man with a pretty woman. It’s a silly ideal, a false narrative. Who wrote the rule that says a man must have a woman to be successful? Or that if he’s married, he’s suddenly more put together, more reliable. Why do we trust men just because they have a woman at their side? Like it would be impossible for the devil to find a wife?

Clearly, society has some fucked up ideas.

He tugs me into the mansion, his fingers gripped around my wrist. I stare at the connection where his skin meets mine, a link so simple, and yet I can’t break it.

Because I’m afraid of the consequences of letting go.

And truthfully, I don’t know how to let go.

I’ve thought about it every day since Naz found me at Lily’s grave. My mind has explored every option of walking away from my family, searching for any opportunity. But they would find me. I’m guarded in the house, can’t leave on my own. I don’t even have a car, never even learned how to drive.

I feel like a princess in one of those fairytales. One where they lock her away for too many years and by the time she’s free she doesn’t even know how to function. I was coddled, shielded, given too much. By the time I realized I was in a toxic relationship with my family, the threads had been wound too tightly.

The governor’s wife smiles, her lips painted with a bright coral color. She wears a black dress and there’s an elegant string of pearls wrapped around her throat. She looks every bit the perfect housewife. My google search this morning told me she’s been married to the governor for nearly twenty years. They have two kids, a boy and girl, living the perfect American Dream.

“You must be Lana!” she coos sweetly, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m Diane. When Davis told us he was engaged, we justhadto have you over.”

She looks nice enough, but I have no interest in pretending to be civil to her. Nor do I want to celebrate this charade of an engagement. I give her a small smile and I feel Davis squeeze my hand. When my eyes dart to him he flashes me a dark look, his menacing gaze telling me to be nicer.

“Thank you,” I tell Mrs. Bailey. “It’s very nice of you to have us.”

“Of course,” she says, shaking my hand before ushering me further into the house. The movement forces Davis to drop his grip on me while he greets the governor. “Come on,” she tells me, leading me toward the bar cart. “Wine?” she asks, her drawn on brow lifting with the question.

She grabs two glasses, filling each with more than one serving of red wine. Immediately she brings the glass to her lips, taking a gulp. I feel her character break for a moment, a crack in the facade, before just as quickly it’s replaced.

I shake it off, letting her lead me over to the dining room. Davis eyes the glass of wine in my grip with a sore expression. I wonder what he’ll do when he has me fully under his thumb? When I’m locked inside my new gilded cage? Will he punish me for this? Wrap his fingers around my throat again to assert his control?

My mind wanders through the possibilities, his abuse and control could be endless. I wonder at what point it will feel normal. Will I eventually not even flinch at his commands?

Naz’s medal burns against my skin, making me painfully aware of the fact that I’m not with him.

There’s a staff that serves dinner laying far too much food on the table for four people. My family has always hired employees, the only one who opposed it, was my grandmother. She was the type of woman who liked to do everything herself, my mother on the other hand was quick to hire help.

“So,” Diane asks, finishing her wine, “how’d you two meet?”

I look to Davis to answer the question, not sure what kind of lie he’d like me to spin for people instead of the truth. We don’t have a cute story, no one will smile upon hearing our meeting.

Well, I first saw him the night my sister jumped from her balcony. He came in to assess the damage before letting my parents know that I would be a suitable replacement. Oh, that’s right, he was engaged to her first.

“Her family,” he tells Diane, eyeing me over the rim of his bourbon glass, “I’ve known her family for a long time.”

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