Page 32 of The Fates We Tame
If my family members are what the media paints them to be, they are powerful, conniving, and have reach.Foolishdoesn’t even begin to cover how I feel. They’ve pretended to love, care, and nurture me. Now they plan to marry me to a stranger whether I want to or not. It must be why I crashed the car. I don’t know the circumstances that led up to this, but I must have been frantic.
Was I trying to escape? To flee?
The first thing I’m going to do when they leave is fix who has control of what affects me. And I need to prepare for threats of removal of support. If they are willing to marry me off for the sake of the family enterprise, I can only imagine what they will do to try and control me.
“When were you thinking?” I ask. It’s hard to focus on the conversation, and I’m sure they must sense something is off.
Leonardo looks at Luca, then back to me. “Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” That gives me no time at all. A part of me just wants to say no, that I don’t want to go anymore. But if the plan is to get me to marry an absolute stranger, they’ll find a different way to do it, even if I say no.
Suddenly, my two brothers feel even more like strangers than they did when I first woke up.
Worse, they feel like my enemies. “Tomorrow is too soon. I haven’t even packed my things.”
“That’s okay,” Luca says. “We can pay someone here. You can buy all new things. I’ve had credit cards with your name on them made. You can buy whatever you want when we get there, my treat.”
“The buying isn’t what bothers me. I’m not willing to fly anywhere without clear and solid rehab plans. I’ve worked too hard to let it slip now.” I also want to rage. Who thinks it’sokay to drag me away from the care providers I’ve grown to trust? Who thinks it’s a good idea to take a person with amnesia away from every bit of familiarity that might help them access memories?
Why the hell would I want to go? Was I always such a pushover that I’d just do what they say? I’d hate to think that I was.
“A few days without therapy won’t make or break your recovery,” Luca says. “We’ll have everything set up for you. You don’t have to worry about a thing. We’ll look after you, I promise.”
“I don’t even know if I can fly after a brain injury like mine. I’ll have to check in with Dr. Polunin. And then there’s travel insurance? Health insurance?”
Both of them look at me. “Such a worrier,” Leonardo says.
“I’m sorry. I don’t think I feel comfortable leaving without a plan. Sicily sounds lovely, but I might be better off staying here. Or leave in a week or two so I have time to ask if the center has any recommendations for a private clinic there and we can arrange for liaison and transfer of files.”
Luca smiles, but there is a sharp edge to it. “You forget who we are, Sophia. Money can move mountains. We can move quickly but still have the plans you require. Give us twenty-four hours.”
The sincerity in his face scares me most. He’s lying, and if I didn’t know better, I’d believe he was telling me the truth.
I was only just getting my arms around this new world I live in, and now the very foundation I built it all on, my family, is crumbling.
Loneliness bites me.
Then reality settles over me. I’m the daughter of a crime family. I’m probably dragging Theo into something he doesn’t need to be dragged in to. But I need his help.
More importantly, I think I’m going to need his club’s help if they come for me.
“My image no longer matches my passport photograph.” Like my license that has become my talisman. An anchor of who I really was.
Leonardo chuckles. “We’re an important Sicilian family. And we’re taking a private jet. You’ll have no trouble getting into Sicily. From there, you can apply for a new passport before we travel home.”
Luca gives Leonardo a brief glance, and I can almost read between the lines. He’s saying too much.
I swallow three, four times to fight the tears that are threatening.
Tension crackles between us. I wonder if it’s as obvious to them as it is to me that something is off here.
“That sounds good. I should probably figure out how to apply makeup before I have my photograph taken.” I touch my eye patch, and Leonardo looks at me sympathetically.
“You’re still lovely, Soph,” he says.
“Yes, but do I leave my prosthetic eye out or put it in? Do you know the rules? And if it’s out, do I still put mascara on the lids?”
Luca grimaces. “Enough, Sophia.”
