Stolen glances, first touches, toxic air and bloodied hands.
A marriage of convenience.
This is what Carlotta Mancini had been prepared her whole life for by her father.
Locked at home for almost her life, she never had the chance to interact with...
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Daddy Issues by The Neighbourhood
***
CARLOTTA
Stopping at the top of the stairs, I stared at my husband getting in one of the four cars present.
The black Rolls Royce departed, followed by a black SUV as they made their way out of the private terminal of the JFK airport.
The sound of someone clearing their voice made me snap back to reality. I turned and sent a small smile to the hostess before I descended the stairs.
I sent another small smile to the driver that opened the door of the car for me. The model of the vehicle was the same as the one that Luca got in earlier. Only the colour was different. This one was of a dark burgundy shade.
I was familiar with this type of brand because my father used those as well.
He owned an entire collection of vintage cars he never drove around because he preferred being taken around by the chauffeur.
I heard the sound of our luggages being placed in the truck. I was the only one going towards Luca's place, while he was going elsewhere. Probably to solve an emergency since we departed right away after he hanged the call he received the day before.
When the driver sat down, he partially turned towards me with a smile on his lips.
"I'm Silvano, your personal driver." The man in his mid 40s introduced himself, making my lips part in surprise.
Well, this was something new.
"My personal driver?" I asked, as I saw him nodding.
"Yes Ma'am. I have the order to take you anywhere you like." He responded with a thick Italian accent, making my eyes slightly widen.
"Anywhere also like.. the Hamptons?" I tested, incredulous at what I was hearing.
"Yes. Anywhere you want." He responded. "These were Mr Angelini's instructions." Silvano, then added, starting to drive.
This was a new reality for me because I rarely went out of Mancini Manor. The only times I did that was to go to the clinic, school or partake in horse riding competitions.
And to go to the competitions, I had to beg my father countless of times before he agreed to my requests.
Never I had the chance to go wherever I wanted when I felt like.
Was this the taste of freedom Vittoria talked so much about?
I still couldn't fully call it like that because I still had to respond to my father. I still had to deal with the man.
The quicker I did what he wanted, and sooner I was going to be free from him.
