Page 28 of Merciless Queen (Moretti Mafia #1)

Harlow

“Give her this,” the man hissed as he handed the other guy a bottle of clear liquid. One held me down as the other forced my mouth open.

He tilted the bottle, and it felt like I was drowning in rubbing alcohol. Vodka got in my nose, and I choked on the liquid as some of it went down my throat. The man got annoyed and grabbed my jaw, shoving the bottle in my mouth and pouring it back. I was forced to drink it, or I’d asphyxiate.

When he pulled away, I felt sick. My head swam as I turned to the side and threw up. There was no food in my system, and the alcohol made me feel worse.

I was snapped from my flashback when glass hit the counter.

Liquor had been my enemy for years, but right now it was my savior.

I didn’t think this would be a healthy coping mechanism, but I didn’t care.

The clear liquid burned as it slid down my throat, leaving a fiery sting that numbed me.

It gave me a blissful escape from reality and the screaming chaos around me.

I wanted to chase this feeling. This clear drink was my escape, and I wanted to keep going until I was peacefully numb in a cocoon of tranquil oblivion.

“Excuse me,” I asked the pink and black haired bartender. “What is this?”

“That, my dear, is tequila.” The woman poured another shot of tequila, and I brought it to my lips, cringing. “Do you want me to mix it? I can make you a cocktail.”

I nodded. “Please. Will it help me get drunk faster?”

She smirked. “I can make it to where you never taste the liquor, but feel the effects of it in twenty minutes. Is that what you want, doll face?”

I nodded. “Please.” She prepared the drink, sliding me a cup that looked like a sunset. It was sweeter than the liquor by itself, and I chugged it down.She made me another one when I was halfway gone.

The bartender slid me over a glass of water before leaning over. “So, what brings you down to this neck of the woods?”

I arched my brow and grabbed the glass of water. “An engagement party.”

“Ahh, you’re the fiancée?” For a moment, I thought she would be another ex-lover of Caterina’s and hit me, but she smiled instead. “You’re a cutie. I see why Caterina is marrying you.”

“Uhh, thank you?”

She made me another drink and put a shot glass in front of herself. “Here’s to a happy marriage.” I grabbed my cup, and she clinked it with her shot glass before she threw it back. I sipped the newest drink.

“Spencer, are you trying to get my fiancée drunk?” Caterina asked as she walked behind me, placing her hand on my hip.

“Never.”

Caterina rolled her eyes. “Sure. And she didn’t drink straight tequila before chugging down one of your mind-numbing tequila sunrises. Harlow, this is Spencer. She is a bartender extraordinaire and one of the best people I have on my team.”

“Nice to meet you, doll face.”

“Hi,” I said meekly.

“Spencer Torres. The proper introduction is: kickass bartender extraordinaire with fuck me eyes and a don’t fuck with me attitude.”

“Spencer, tone it down.”

She arched her perfect brow and smirked at Caterina. “You’re no fun. Hey sweets, come hang out with me again. We can plan ways to prank Cat together.”

“Goodbye, Spencer.” Caterina took my hand gently in hers and guided me to the dance floor. I guessed we really needed to keep the facade going and be close to one another.

I could already feel the numbing effects of the alcohol.

It was like the feeling I had back in the club, but I knew this time I was safer and no one could hurt me, so I let myself fall into the intoxicating feeling.

Caterina pulled me to her, her hands resting delicately on my lower back as we danced in a slow, mesmerizing rhythm.

Our bodies moved together in a seamless, gentle sway.

Her touch was a light caress, almost like a whisper.

This felt too intimate to feel this charge of electricity between us when this was a facade, but her touch was comforting, soothing my demons, and her gaze was full of unspoken promises.

Her eyes met mine with a softness that grounded me.

She should not have felt like home, safe and warm.

It had to be the alcohol taking control of my brain.

I needed to get out of here and away from her for a little while.

To my surprise, the alcohol didn’t send me spiraling into a flashback, but it made me feel funny.

“How long do we have to be here?”

“You don’t like socializing?”

I glared at her. She was picking now. “You know I don’t. There’s a lot of men here. I can feel them staring at me.”

“Why wouldn’t they?” she asked, turning me around and wrapping her arms around my waist as we looked at the room of people.

She nuzzled her face between my neck, whispering in my ear.

“All these men can see how beautiful you are because you are. You are breathtaking, Harlow. A beautiful, resilient phoenix. They want you, but they can’t have you.

You don’t have to worry about these men, bellissima.

If they ever decided to hurt you, I would string them up by their toes in my garden and have their blood paint my roses. ”

I cringed. “You don’t have to kill people for me.

”Did it make me a horrible person, wanting her to kill the men that hurt me?

That was a lot of men, a lot of blood. I didn’t even remember most of the men.

Mainly the ones that were brutal. Some of them just wanted my company while others were cruel.

“I promise you, Harlow, I will kill every man who ever hurt you. I won’t pretend that it will fix the damage, but maybe their deaths will help heal the parts they shattered.”

I turned around again and cupped her cheek. “You’d have a lot of blood on your hands if you did that.”

From the moment Vincenzo took me at fifteen until the night Caterina stole me from his bed, I lost count of the numerous men who brutalized my body.

Some of them wanted a quick orgasm, others enjoyed hearing me scream.

I lost count of how many men hurt me, using my body for their sick desires, but eventually they morphed into one man. Vincenzo.

He was a monster among men, conniving and cruel.

A demon who thrived on manipulation and malice.

Vincenzo left a trail of shattered hopes and blood in his wake.

Every sharp word was laced with white hot venom as he commanded and destroyed.

It was all he knew how to do; every move calculated to control and dominate.

He said he loved me, yet he allowed his men and strangers to violate and devalue me because of something my father did.

I wanted him to experience the same agonizing torture he put me through for ten long years.

Every cut, forced thrust, beating, and every ounce of blood lost. I wanted him to know true fear, the kind that gripped his soul and froze his heart.

A raw primal terror that snatched him when there was no corner safe.

The fear that twisted his insides, making him feel a relentless, suffocating dread at every corner.

I wanted him to feel true, visceral terror until he was the one on his knees begging for mercy, but only to realize he was not the hunter, but the hunted, before his terror finally consumed him.

But that meant becoming a monster like him.

“Stop thinking,” Caterina said, her voice pulling me from my downward spiral. This woman was a tangled web of contradictions and enigmas. One moment she was warm and inviting, the next she was distant and arcane. I felt like I was getting whiplash.

We moved in silence, our bodies swaying to the melody and soft instrumentals that engulfed us. I attempted to plaster a happy expression so no one knew the constant battle going on in my mind. She wanted this to be believable, but it was exhausting putting on a safe face.

I was exhausted by this facade of being happy and in love. I was tired of the continuous fight going on in my mind. I wanted it to be quiet for five fucking minutes so I could exist in peace.

“What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Didn’t you just tell me to stop thinking?”

She laughed gently. “But did you listen?”

I sighed, adjusting my arms slightly. “How can I stop when my mind takes a detour? I’m free, but I’m still being haunted.

” My voice came out more bitter than I intended, and I winced.

“I’m sorry. I’m not used to this. I want to be normal again.

My teenage years were stolen from me, and I have nothing.

No family. No life. Nothing but pain and trauma wrapped up in a pretty bow.

I can’t even be in a room without freaking out. I’m tired. I’m really fucking tired.”

“What do you want to do?”

I arched my brow, pushing away from her. “What do you mean?”

“What’s a list of things you wanted to do when you were younger, but never got the chance because of Vincenzo?”

My mind raced with all the various things my mother and I planned before everything went to hell.

“My mom was going to take me to The Met in New York. We’ve been to all the museums in Chicago, so I wanted to expand my horizon, and the Met has been a dream.

She was going to take me for my fourteenth birthday, but we never got that chance. And this one’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“A date. Like a real one, or as real as a date can be when we are pretending. I told the girl I liked that I liked her, and we were supposed to go to the movies and to dinner a few days after I was taken. I never knew what happened to her, but I never got that. It’s stupid, but I grew up reading fairy tales.

I wanted a prince or, well, a princess charming to sweep me off my feet and make me happy. ”

“Anything you want, you’ll get it.”

“Mistress Moretti,” a meek voice said as she walked closer to us. She was one of the maids, but Moira didn’t let anyone speak to us. I needed to talk to Caterina about that because her staff seemed nice. “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but there was a package delivered for you and Miss Harlow.”

Caterina nodded, taking my hand as we followed the girl to the foyer.

There were a lot of people who worked in Caterina’s house, and it made me feel like a bitch for not knowing everyone’s names, but it was tedious work when I could barely focus on myself.

Did they know about our marriage being fake or did they truly think the girl she kidnapped stole her heart?

If people here knew or if they could read my face, would Vincenzo know this was a facade, too?

On the marble table in the center of the foyer was a black box with a delicate, red ribbon and a note that had To the Happy Couple scribbled across in a delicate script.

I looked at her, and she gave me a gentle nod to open the box.

My fingers danced over the black box, velvet brushing against my fingertips as I pulled the ribbon loose.

I removed the top, gently pulling red and black tissue paper out of the box.

My heart pounded against my ribs like it was trying to escape from my chest as the crimson coated my hands.

My breathing quickened, but I couldn’t complete a breath as I pulled the final piece of blood-soaked paper out of the box.

Every muscle in my body tensed as dread consumed me, seeing dead, lifeless eyes looking back at me, and a moment later, I screamed.