He's vulgar and cunning, she's stubborn and fiery.
Camila Romano is the daughter of a don, one of the most feared don's within the Casa Nostra. But as his reign falls, she begins to lose even more of the life she never had control over. She knows wh...
I sat in the same wooden chair for almost 3 hours. It felt like an eternity had past as I listened to Sebastian and the clerk talk back and forth about money, legalities, and other important things that I didn't understand.
A lot of the things I did understand I had to teach myself. Most women in the Casa Nostra didn't learn much unless their husbands or fathers wanted them to. And my papá was always too busy to care about such trivial matters. So I was left to teach myself what I could. I was smart and witty, and I thanked the internet and smartphones for that.
When Sebastian eventually stood and thanked the clerk, I stood myself to walk out of the court. He placed his hand on my lower back and guided me out. I felt nauseous and hot all over. Merda.
Sebastian and I had a lot of history. Most of which I tried to forget or ignore because of how much it hurt to remember. I wouldn't let him know that though. I would never give him that satisfaction.
We sat in silence in the car for 10 minutes while Sebastian sent a bunch of texts off of his cellphone. I sat and picked at my nails as if I was doing something productive, silently listening to Sebastian whisper things to himself in frustration.
"So, did you get what you needed today?" I looked up to make some conversation. I was bored out of my mind.
"Not yet." He winked at me and it was enough for me to turn and face the window. "Oh come on El, it wouldn't be that bad marrying me." He tugged at the ends of my hair to get my attention; the same way a school boy would.
"Get over yourself, Sebastian."
"I'd rather get over you." He winked again.
"You make me sick." He literally did, my stomach had not stopped quivering since I saw him in my Nonna's home.
"And you love me for it."
"That doesn't even make any fucking sense."
"It doesn't need to."
He was right. Nothing in the Casa Nostra made sense. Aside from the money, drugs, sex, and crime, nothing made any fucking sense. Most men lived like it was the 1950s, while the women just played along dumbly. I swear I was the only one with brains in this whole fucking place.
I would never give Sebastian the satisfaction of being smarter than me, or having more power than me; even if he technically did. My money would soon become my husband's, along with my freedom, dignity and morals. It would all go down the drain. Not that there was much of it because most of it belonged to papá, before my husband. I was stuck in a fucking 1950s nightmare.
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Just as the car stopped in the driveway, I opened my door immediately to leave as fast as I could. I couldn't stand another moment alone with him in this car.
He grabbed my elbow to get my attention, I shrugged him off and slammed the door. He quickly followed behind, running around the front of the car and stopping in front of me.
"El. Talk to me." He said in the kindest, softest voice that I had ever heard from his lips.
"You're kidding right?" I scoffed, still not making eye contact with him.
He grabbed my chin and tilted it to face him. He was so tall and so close I could smell all of him. The cinnamon and cigarettes, but also the familiarity of our past. I hated him for it.
"El. You need to tell me what's wrong. What I can do to make this whole situation better for the two of us." He sounded so vulnerable and sincere, a fucking façade to get his own way. I wasn't falling for it or his manipulative ways. That was the old me, the naive girl who believed every word out of his serpent mouth.
"How about letting me leave? How about letting me have my own fucking life without you, or my papá, or the fucking Casa Nostra down my ass for once?" I shoved his chest with each heated question. He took it like a gentleman and only stared into my eyes, trying to read my thoughts as if he was psychic.
He laughed and then grabbed both my wrists as they were about to shove him again.
"Camila. You know this is not how this works. And quite frankly, I'm starting to regret the whole thing myself-"
"So it was your idea?! I fucking knew it!" Why did he want to marry me? After our past, after everything? Why me?
"That's not the point! We're stuck in this now whether we like it or not. So we might as well make it fucking peaceful so that we don't both go completely insane!" He tossed my hands to my side and turned to walk inside.
I stood in the driveway analysing his words. He wanted this. He wanted to marry me. But why? And why try to make it work? Why not just let me live in one home while he brings girls to another. That's what other men did, why not do the same? Why stay faithful?
Unless this was all part of his façade and I was falling for it. He wanted something, and it wasn't just me. He had a master plan. Fuck I'm going insane.
I run after him, "tell me why! Tell me why you want to marry me!" I yell walking beside him as he continues stomping off.
"No. You're a brat. You don't deserve to know."
"Really? I don't deserve to know why I'm being married off to the person I despise the most?"
"You really hate me that much, huh?"
I glare at him. And he doesn't respond.
"Your dad needed the money." He says softly, as if my silence and words hurt him. As if he had a heart. He doesn't.
"YOU PAYED FOR ME?!" I yell shoving his chest and throwing my arms in the air. "What the actual fuck, Bash!"
"You haven't called me that since-" We both pause as we realise the magnitude of my words.
"Look. I'm sorry you're hurt and I'm sorry you feel like you have no freedom. But we can't change the past and we can't not go through with this wedding, so I suggest we move past all of our issues and play nice so that the rest of our lives aren't living hells." He says all of this with such confidence but also with a sternness. He was serious. This was our lives now.
He broke eye contact and turned away from me, walking into the house and up the stairs.
"Where are you going?!" I yell after him. I wasn't done. I wanted to talk about all of this.
"To bath!" He sounded pissed.
"What! Are you five?"
"Yes!"
Our screaming match ended with the slamming of his bedroom door. I threw my bag down on the counter and put the kettle on. I was done. With this day, with this wedding, with Sebastian. I was finished.
