Page 46 of Alliance

“Ah, well everyone knew Carmine Costello.” The mayor smiles as his gaze lands on me. “Which one of his daughters is your mother?” he asks.

People generally know my grandfather and Junior, but my mother and her sisters tend to get lost in the mix. Sad, really, how no one remembers the women in the family. This is a man’s world, and the rest of us, those without a dick hanging between our legs seem to mean much less.

“Carlotta,” I tell him.

“Ah,” he snaps his fingers, “that’s right, married Damien Romano.” The way he spouts off my father’s name only proves my point further.

Somehow, my gender has made me forgettable.

I zone out the dinner conversation, smiling and nodding and only speaking when someone asks me a question.

I watch as Diane refills her glass for the third time this evening, pouring the last drop into her cup. “Oops.” She smiles. “Looks like we’re all out. I’ll run and get another.” She’s barely pushed herself out of the chair when the mayor’s hand shoots over, pushing her back into her seat. The action happens so fast I barely catch it.

“No need, dear,” he says, his voice sickeningly sweet. “I’m sure you’ve had enough.”

Diane pales at his statement but nods her head, her eyes looking down and away from her husband.

The whole thing sits poorly with me, like lead sinking in my stomach. Davis doesn’t flinch, him and the mayor go right back to their conversation. Diane inhales a breath and turns back to me with a shaky smile.

My chest tightens and my ears block out whatever she says next.

My mind replays the scene in my head, only this time, it’s me sitting in Diane’s seat. I’m twenty years older, my bruises are hidden beneath expensive concealer and my children sit upstairs in their bedrooms. Do they have bruises too? My fingers itch for the wine glass, for the only thing that numbs the pain of being married to the man sitting next to me.

When I blink and Diane comes back into focus, I think I’ll vomit. The quick visualization felt too real, too intense. The agony of the unhappiness settled into my bones. My feet feel glued to the floor, stuck in place.

I have the sudden urge to make it all stop.

I need to get the emotions out, need to let loose the anxiety that swirls in the pit of my stomach.

“Where’s your bathroom?” I ask, but I can’t hear the words that leave my lips. Diane’s face looks concerned as she points down the hall. I don’t hear whatever she says, the blood rushing through my head is too loud. I stumble as I stand, my heels slipping on the hardwoods. I rush to the bathroom, closing the door behind me and hurling myself toward the porcelain toilet.

I lose everything I just ate and when I finally finish, my face is sweaty and I feel exhausted.

“Lana,” Diane’s sweet voice coos as she knocks on the door. I crawl toward the gold handle, twisting the lock so she can open the door.

When it swings open, I see his face, a scowl etched across his features as he looks down at me on the bathroom floor. He pushes past Diane, bending down to be at eye level with me. “You’re sick?” he asks, and I can’t tell if it’s concern that laces his tone or if he’s disgusted with me.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter, wiping the back of my hand across my lips.

He turns back to Diane. “I should get my fiancé home seeing as she’s not feeling well.”

I’m thankful for the wave of sickness if only because I can leave and let go of this facade, but I’m fearful to be alone with Davis. Especially now. I can feel the anger radiating from him and I think if he hits me, I’ll die.

He leads me to the car, shutting me in before he waves a final goodbye. “They’ll think you’re pregnant,” he says once he slides into the driver’s seat.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper, pressing my head against the cold glass of the window.

“Are you?” he asks, his tone accusing.

Pregnant, he means. He wants to know if I’m pregnant. And considering he’s never gotten me naked, he’s afraid I have Naz’s child inside me. I’m not.

“I have an IUD,” I say, not bothering to look at him. The thing was a bitch to have put in.

“So you’re not denying it?”

“Denying what?” I ask, finally lifting my head so I can look at him. His jaw is tight, his entire posture rigid.

“Did you sleep with him again, Lana?” he asks. “Or did you find someone else?”

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