Page 13 of Merciless Queen (Moretti Mafia #1)

Caterina

As I scrunched my curls, letting them cascade down my back like an onyx waterfall, I stared into the mirror and couldn’t help but see my mother’s reflection looking back at me.

She was a piece of me, and that was the greatest gut-wrenching punch because it was a constant reminder of how much I missed her.

She never would have wanted this life for me, and my desire for revenge was screaming louder than her tainted memory.

My mother, Savina Rossi, was the perfect wife.

A spitfire, according to my father, but she was obedient, loyal, and beautiful.

My mother stood proudly by my father’s side and ruled as an equal, not just his wife.

Others thought it made him weak, brainwashed in the female gaze, but my mother wasn’t afraid to kill someone if it meant protecting the family.

Savina Rossi evoked fear, making even the strongest men fall to their knees, until she had me, and then she took her seat as homemaker.

My mom didn’t like the stereotypes put in place for women and girls in the mafia, but she wanted me to have a perfect life.

My thoughts drifted back to Harlow. This woman was supposed to be my vengeance, and here I was, letting her sleep in my house.

I could kill her if I truly wanted to since he seemed to be attached to her, but she didn’t choose this life.

From what Elizabeth told me, she and her mother were both taken as a debt because of the girl’s father.

Men.

Always ruining everything because they thought they were all powerful.

I pulled on a long t-shirt that reached mid-thigh and swept my damp curls over my shoulder.

The day had drained me, and the thought of tomorrow promised worse.

Tomorrow I was telling Harlow she would marry me, which was taking the control she needed to regain for herself, but it was the only way to keep her safe.

I was being selfish—I could admit that. I should’ve let her go, let her live the life she’d been deprived of, but I’d never been a selfless woman.

This was for my own gain, but she would be protected regardless.

A scream echoed down the hallway, and I rushed to her door, kicking it open.

Adrenaline pumping through my veins, ready to kill someone.

But when I burst into the room with such force, the door ricocheted back and I found Harlow alone, tangled in her blanket and struggling to free herself.

Her pale face was flushed with fear, but there was no real danger—only her fighting her sheets, attempting to escape a nightmare.

“Stop, Vincenzo. I’m sorry!” An ear-shattering scream escaped her lips, and she jolted up out of her bed, sobbing.

It alerted the entire floor, and I had men running to my side with guns drawn.

I lifted my hands, and they dropped them.

She heard the commotion and looked at us, instantly covering her chest. “I-I’m sorry. ..”

“Go back to your rooms. I can handle this,” I told them as I stepped into her room, closing her door. “It’s fine. They heard you scream, and they were ready to fight. Are you okay?”

She shrugged. “Am I ever going to be okay?” Her voice was weak, but snappy. She frowned, her brows furrowing. “I-I’m sorry.”

“No apology needed. Do you need anything?”She looked at me, her big, chestnut-brown eyes filled with fear. There was a question on the tip of her tongue, but she was afraid to ask. “What is it?”

“Can you stay?” she asked, her voice breaking and her cheeks turning a light pink. “I-I’m scared.” She wiped a tear that fell from her eyes. “Y-You don’t have to. I don’t know why I asked.” Harlow sounded defeated. How could she trust me when I wanted to kill her?

“I will.”

I needed to turn back around and leave this room, but she would choose to either stay awake and exhaust herself, or fall asleep and confront her demons again.

If she screamed like that again, my men would burst into her room and traumatize her even more.

It was something I didn't need to worry about when I already had Vincenzo to deal with.

This girl would be his demise one way or another.

I looked down at my shirt and frowned. “I normally don’t sleep with clothes on, but I will put on shorts if needed.”

She glanced at me, her gaze lingering on my bare legs for a moment. “It’s okay. I should put some clothes on. The nightgown was suffocating.” She slid out of bed, covering her bare chest with one arm as she scurried to the closet.

I tried to avert my gaze, but my eyes were drawn to the scars that painted her fair skin.

She disappeared into the closet before I could really map them out, but they told a story of the life she endured in the hands of Vincenzo Mancini.

A few moments later, she emerged in shorts and a tank top—the least amount of clothing I’d seen her in thus far.

Her cheeks were still stained red, with a hint of fear mixed with embarrassment in her warm eyes.

Harlow crawled back into bed, pulling the covers tightly over her exposed body.

She looked at me, waiting and inviting me in.

We really needed to get her to eat more.

She was getting some color back in her face, but she was nothing but skin and bones.

Her frail frame was a reminder of how much she’d been through.

Vincenzo was a sick bastard. How could he live with himself, knowing he caused this much pain to people?

Harlow was broken and languid. I smacked myself internally, the terrified look from when she was in my basement flashing through my mind.

“How are your wrists?”I asked as I pulled the covers back before sliding under them.

She frowned and shrugged. “It’s another scar to add. It’s not the first time my wrists have been slit. This one just wasn’t my choice.” She squeezed her eyes shut, like she regretted the words falling from her lips.

“You look exhausted. Let’s go to sleep.” I reached over and turned the lamp off as I got comfortable next to her. I let her set the tone because I didn’t want to accidentally trigger her.

I felt Harlow tense under me as she got comfortable against me.

She said this helped her, but I didn’t want to hurt her any more than I already had.

The injury on her wrists was my fault for leaving her down there alone.

I never should have believed the words of a rat, especially when I was consumed by rage.

She tensed, her breath hitching as I set my arm down on her side. “Is this okay?”

Harlow nodded, nuzzling herself into my chest like a scared child. “Y-Yes. I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing. I want to make sure you are comfortable.” She nuzzled against me, and I pulled her into me.

Thirty minutes later, her breathing evened out, and she was in a peaceful state.

Her body gradually relaxed, and the rhythm of her breathing became steady and serene as the nightmare that had its hold on her dissipated.

I traced the scars on her arm, the ridged tissue rough under my touch.

I wanted to know the story of what she endured, but it was not my business to know her trauma.

It was going to piss me off more and make my rage grow like an inferno.

When Elizabeth woke up from her coma, she was a shell, a scared, broken girl with no one in her life.

Her father died a few months after she was taken, and police left it as a cold case since it had surpassed three years since she went missing.

Her mom and brother never lost hope, but the police were useless.

I was sure the same thing happened with Harlow and her mother.

Luca was still trying to find a police report, but without knowing the exact date or her last name, we couldn’t narrow down what the incident was.

I was expecting Harlow’s journey to be the same as Elizabeth’s, but this time, Harlow would have someone who experienced her pain to help her.

There was one point with Elizabeth when she would stay up for days at a time to prevent herself from having nightmares, but it was deteriorating her mental health even more.

After six months of healing and battling everything alone, she decided to take control back and started training with Spencer.

She helped Elizabeth take control back, and one day, Elizabeth asked Spencer to help her enjoy sex again.

Spencer was a domme and pansexual, so she agreed to help her.

Before Elizabeth was taken, she knew about sex and had multiple partners, so the experience wasn’t stolen from her like it was with Harlow.

Spencer helped Elizabeth, and now she was happy with Luca healing each other.

Harlow never had a choice. I hoped being free from his grasps would heal her in more ways than one.

I tenderly caressed her dark hair with my hands, listening to her gentle breathing.

She sounded content for the first time since waking up in my home, but it was all for naught.

Tomorrow, I would inform her of our arrangement.

Marrying me wouldn’t be the end of the world, and it would be the only way to keep her safe.

I just had to convince her of that.