Fatale

A Family Dinner

"Charlotte, open the door, we've got your stuff." The voice at the door breaks me out of my nap. Rubbing my eyes, I hobble over to the door of the bedroom, swinging it open to see Marco, Thiago, and one other man with large boxes, stepping aside to allow them to haul them into the room. 

"Thank you guys so much. Did you drop off Fiona's?" I ask as I kiss Marco on the cheek lightly, squeezing his arm. He smiles down at me, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. 

"Yes, she didn't even wait til we were out of the room to start unpacking. She really is a character." 

"You're telling me." I laugh, moving to help the men place the boxes down. 

"We weren't able to get everything, the Rivaldis showed up halfway through so we had to sneak out the fire escape to get everything out." 

I shake my head, moving to open the first box, pulling out the clothes inside. 

"It's fine, having even a few of my things here is all I need." I look around the large room. 

"Marco, where should I put the clothes? I don't want to invade your stuff." I ask sheepishly. He grins at me, amused by my pink cheeks. 

"There's drawers in the closet, and I have plenty of room in there. Men don't exactly keep too many clothes around." 

I smile at him, that same feeling of warmth feeling my chest. 

The men leave me and Marco to unpack, and we begin to hang my many expensive dresses, shirts, and pants up in the closet. 

"I swear, you have more clothes than a fucking mall, Charlotte." He jokes, placing the last black dress up. 

"Well, I have to try not to wear the same thing too many times, people will start to recognize me." 

"You haven't told me many specifics, but how the hell did you get so many secrets out of so many men?" Marco asks cautiously. 

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. 

"Fiona always said that men are simple, and men who keep secrets always want someone to listen to them, to make them feel important or even right for what they've done. It was like asking someone about their day, only with a wig and their day consisting of cheating, stealing, or embezzling." 

Marco nods, standing up straight after finishing the box. 

I open the last box, and freeze at what's on top. I pull out the old book, its pages falling off, twine holding the covers on. I flip it open, and stare at the pictures inside. There aren't many, depicting me as a baby, my mother holding me, my father sitting asleep with a cigarette in his lips in his favorite chair.

I trace my fingers over the image of my mother, her deadly straight dark hair climbing down her back, smiling down at an infant, who holds her finger in her tiny hand. 

I blink back tears as I feel Marco's hands go around my waist, a reassuring kiss to my shoulder. 

"Don't think about it, Angel. You did nothing wrong, and you can't change what happened. Just move forward." He whispers in my ear, squeezing my waist slightly. 

I nod, slamming the book closed and removing myself from his hold to stuff it in the bottom of a drawer, covering it with a few shirts. 

"I'm fine." I croak, rubbing my eyes. 

He just looks at me for a moment, the way he does when he knows I'm not telling the full truth. 

Before either of us can say anything, the door opens, and Thiago pokes his head in.