My Breaking Point

Milan, Italy.

Alina

His hands close around my neck, the iron grip seizing the air out of my lungs.

I claw at his fingers with wide eyes, nails scraping skin, eyes watering. He doesn’t move, instead, he hisses then slams me into the wall. The sound of bone cracking fills the room and I cough, rubbing my bruised neck as pain shoots through my entire body.

My head is burning.

“You’re going to be a good girl,” He says, kneeling, voice low and steady. “You’ll go back into that room and get dressed. Do you understand?”

He reaches for me and I flinch, wiping the lone tear slipping down my cheek.

A sigh escapes his lips and he rises up to his feet.

“Alina, please. You have to do this for us or else, we’d lose everything we’ve worked so hard for. Besides, I’m sure you won’t be able to continue college and your sister-“

“Exactly, dad. Why does it have to be me? Why him?!” I whisper yell, clutching at my head before standing up to my feet.

My vision blurs and I blink it away with an attempt to glare at him. I fail miserably.

His gaze darkens, a flash of surprise and disapproval grazing his eyes.

“You’re the only fit for it. And you understand, Alina. Don’t you? It’s only going to be for a year, love. I’m not asking you for too much now, am I?”

My lips part in shock, wondering how he could easily switch between emotions. I could have been mistaken earlier but now, the man who almost choked me to death minutes ago is now staring at me with sadness and pity swirling in his eyes.

I marvel at his pretense though it doesn’t move me.

“I can’t. There should be another way out of this. I’m-“

“You’re not!” He growls, taking a step towards me. Fear engulfs me and for every step he takes forward, I take one back.

He stops when my back hits the wall, sliding his hands into his pocket with his lips pulling into a wicked smirk.

“You and that prick aren’t happening. You’re going to do as I say and that’s it. Now hurry up with it and make sure you’re ready in the next hour. Adrian doesn’t like to wait.”

As if I wouldn’t know that. That fucking bastard.

I ball my hand into fists at my sides and open my mouth to protest but decide against it. Nothing I’m going to say to him right now will change his mind Although, I know someone who might.

A tiny bit of hope dangles in my chest and I nod, rushing out of the room and heading for my sister’s before he can get into my head.

My fist hovers over her door, deliberating if I should knock. Even though I and Brielle have never gotten along for reasons I don’t quite understand, she’s the only one who can help me out of this mess right now.

As much as I hate to do this, I have no other option. I would rather swallow a rusted nail than ask Adrian to change his mind, which he wouldn’t in a million years even if I tried.

That man takes his business so seriously I fear he could kill for it. Having been a pawn in his game once, I know better than to have high hopes.

The door opens halfway before I can make a decision and I gasp, my heart beating a thousand miles per second in shock.

Her big, brown eyes lands on me and a glower immediately frames her round face. Blush tints her cheek, a sign that my presence annoys her.

“I need to talk to you.” I say, adjusting my black hair over my neck. I don’t have to look in the mirror to know that it’s turning purple.

“I don’t want to.” She moves back in, ready to bang the door on my face but I shoot a leg in between the door.

“Brielle, please. I promise, I won’t take much of your time, I just need your help.” Desperation drips from my voice as I beg.

Time’s slipping away and the earlier I can find a solution to this, the easier my life could be.

Her eyes move downwards to my outstretched foot and I retrieve it, standing as upright as I can. My head is killing me and I can barely see.

“No, Alina. I don’t want to hear whatever bullshit you have to say. What? You want my congratulations for stealing him?” She snorts, glaring at me.

I almost roll my eyes at her words. How can a man be yours when you’ve only been with him in your dreams?

“No, Brielle. That’s not-“ Silence fills the thick air between us as I pause.

“I can’t marry him.” I blurt out.

Seconds pass before a bitter laugh leaves her lips, her head falling behind her.

“That’s hard to believe given the present circumstances. You knew I always wanted Adrian. That’s why you quickly jumped at the offer of marrying him when he asked. Well, congratu-fucking-lations, sister.” She shakes her head pitifully at me.

I open my mouth to protest but she beat me to it. Again.

“And I know you fucked him. Gosh, you’re such a cheap bitch, Alina. I can’t believe I trusted you.” I don’t get a chance to speak before she slams the door in my face, leaving me with my mouth open in the empty hallway.

Frustration gnaws at my insides and I cover my face with my palms, my eyes already stinging with exhaustion. This wasn’t how I planned for this conversation to go.

Funny how she also believes that scandal that I threw myself at him.

“For a bride, I’d say that’s a shitty outfit.”

A familiar annoying voice says, his rich scent that I used to love and long for wafting into my nostrils and taking my hatred for him not to run into his arms.

Two years ago, my heart would have skipped a beat looking at him resting against the wall with one shoulder, hands in pocket and staring at me with a small smile playing on his plump, red lips. I would have smiled and ran to him, peppered kisses on his face and patted his brown hair that’s always styled into a clean, buzz cut.

Now, all I want to do is wipe that stupid smirk off his face with my fist flying into his nose. Sometimes though, I wonder if it’s possible to hate someone as much as I hate Adrian Ferraro.

I turn to the direction of his voice.

“Why are you doing this?” I question through gritted teeth, my blood boiling with rage.

It’s just the two of us in the hallway and thoughts of killing him are wheeling through my mind. I would end this man right here and now, but it’s only as easy as bringing back my mother from the dead.

“Doing what?” He asks, his black as night eyes pinned on me as my name rolls off his tongue effortlessly, giving me the same effect it used to years ago.

Hot. Eager. Wanted. Scared.

I hate it all. I hate him.

Only he didn’t mean it. Not then and obviously not now.

He pushes himself off the wall, taking tentative steps towards me. His white dress shirt is unbuttoned at the chest and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbow, revealing his full arm tattoo and the dark inked tulip running along his neck and into his chest. I stay rooted in place, holding his gaze even though my body is nagging at me to back away.

I’m not afraid of Adrian. And if he thinks he can scare me off with his big body and gorgeous face, he has another thing coming.

He stops five feet away from me, his 6’4 tall body towering over my 5’10 height. His eyes flicker to my lips and neck swiftly before looking back up at me. The movement is short but enough to have heat crawling up my spine.

“Making you my wife?”

“I’m never going to be yours. It’s better you stop this madness right now, and save us both the trouble. I have a fiance.” I inform, hoping that convinces him to end this.

He scoffs, shaking his head. “Fiancé. Interesting. Well, now you are about to have a husband. Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“No woman would be excited to get married to a man like you, Adrian. For the most part, I’m more annoyed than excited, thanks to you.” I glare at him.

He steps closer, his brows furrowing with interest as he glances down at my neck and reaches out a hand. My heart skips a beat and I slap a hand to the exposed area.

“Wait-“

My words are cut short when I hear someone call my name from across the hallway and I stiffen, my anxiety spiking. The voice gets louder from behind me and the woman from earlier comes into view. Her eyes lands on me and she sighs in relief, placing her hand on her chest as she half jogs to me.

“Miss Alina-“ she pauses, noticing Adrian’s presence.

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Mr Ferraro.” Anticipation and fear masks her tiny voice.

He nods at her, not taking his eyes off me. Such a proud prick.

She turns to me. “You have to hurry now. Your father is asking of you. It’s thirty minutes to the wedding and you need to change quickly.”

I look back at Adrian with pleading eyes, silently begging him to change his mind. A shrug of his shoulder and a defiant look in his eyes are all I need to know that I’m not escaping my fate today.

“See you at the altar, Peony.” He says in his smooth, Italian accent before turning around and walking away.

That damned nickname.

As the woman hooks her arm around mine and leads me towards my room, one thought lingers in my mind, refusing to leave nothing but pain in its wake.

How did I end up here again?