Solana
Six years later.Tuscany, ItalyThe last time I'd been in church was when I was a baby. My parents were not religious, but Mother had wanted me to have a baptism. It was held in this same cathedral, and Mother told me how proud she felt holding me close to her bosom as she followed the priest to the altar. How afraid, yet confident, that Father walked beside her. How a massive crowd of friends and business associates had turned out, just for me.I would always be her favourite child. Always.Shortly after my baptism, my father tended his resignation letter to Steele Corp — the app developing company he'd worked in for thirty solid years, and struck out on his own, with the help of Norman Stravkos; who became his new master. He stopped going to church, started sleeping around town with girls, and treated my mother like shit. All for the money. All for the fame. All for the glory. All for everything that would ruin him and his generations to come.Today, as I followed his casket to the front of the church, I tried to conjure up remorse. A little guilt for the gruesome way he died. I wasn't sure if the details of how his body had been squashed in the upturned, burning vehicle would ever leave my head, but I didn't mind. A little part of me felt relief. With him gone, Mother could start her life anew. With him gone, there'd be no more chaos. No more senseless deals with rivals that'd cost him the lives of his daughters and cousins in future. No more greedy alliances.Black lace hid my face, so I could survey the crowd that had gathered to pay their last respects without them seeing me. The pews stood empty until we reached the front rows, where fifteen were occupied. Twenty five mourners on the right — my whole family — and double that amount on the left. Did soldiers and tall, rude men in black suits and goofy googles count as mourners too? Because that was what the Stravkos had brought with them. Their whole shady entourage.I ignored them, my attention instead arrested by the twenty-five sourly-looking faces on my right. As a nefarious drug dealer, my father had gathered more of enemies than friends in the last couple of years, so it wasn't surprising for me to note that out of the twenty five persons, there were only two new faces I'd not seen before. The rest were family — my mother, uncles, aunt's, cousins. My uncles and male cousins didn't sit with them presently though. They were carrying my father's coffin.As the procession edged closer to the altar, I exhaled, preparing myself to see his face. The face of the spineless man, who five years ago, had sat beside me in a cold, sterile room and signed a contract, declaring his ownership of me. An ownership he didn't want, but was too much of a chicken to go against his father. The contract had filled in the position of a vow. A marriage vow. The only difference was that instead of the promise to love, protect and cherish me for the rest of our lives, there'd been a strong assertion to protect and keep me in line. Words that made me feel like a property, than a bride. Words that haunted my dreams. Words that fuelled my hate.It was a contract of perpetual slavery. My life to spare my family. To keep our bloodline alive, and free from the wrath of the Stravkos that was waxing eternal. I was the sacrificial lamb. The trophy of victory over the Williams. The Stravkos got a good kick out of letting everyone in Tuscany know that at last, they owned the Williams princess. That there were conquerers in an age-long petty feud.I loathed the Stravkos family. They were heartless monsters. They deserved nothing but anguish, misery and suffering.The procession came to a halt. My mother stood up to join us, followed closely by my elder sister Helen. I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat when Mother took my hand in hers, her sorrow washing over me, making my eyes water. But I wasn't crying because I understood her pain. I was crying because finally she was free. From a selfish, cheating husband. From a man who had done nothing but show just how much he didn't deserve her.She was free at last.Helen squeezed my shoulder softly from behind, but I didn't dare look back. I should've expected to see her today of all days. Of course she wouldn't miss Father's funeral for the world. She was his favourite, after all, even though their relationship had gone sour later on. I looked down at the handsome little boy clutching my dress — her son, Frank. He giggled, exposing two, shimmering white incisors. He couldn't be more that three years old and was completely adorable.My heart twisted with the painful reminder that I wouldn't get to have a cute child like him. At least, not with a Stravkos.Over my dead body.Nine pallbearers lowered my father's coffin onto the wide, spacious table. Mother had insisted that it should be a closed-casket funeral — no viewing— due to father's burnt skin.My cousins turned to me. They'd turned out to be full-fledged men in so little time. I didn't blame them. Growing up in an emotionally troubled household did that to you. Wayne, Uncle Jethro's — my father's immediate elder brother — oldest son looked past me, his gaze settling in my sister. His eyes, a soft, grass green I remembered from childhood had taken a deeper shade. I watched, wishing I could swivel round and take a good look at my sister. Observe just how much she'd grown as well, see what her eyes silently communicated to Wayne. But I didn't, and Wayne's eyes shifted to me at last.Through the lace shielding my face, our eyes locked. I couldn't tell if he could see the anger, betrayal and pain swirling in my eyes. He subtly raised a hand and gave a small wave, and I wondered, fleetingly, if anyone saw him. He could be shot on the spot for it. The Stravkos family had no time for dialogue. They were that cruel.And I was sure as hell that they did see Wayne.A figure moved into my periphery and cleared his throat. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up at once, fear slicing through my veins, but I managed to put up an air of indifference. I already knew who it was. Heart pounding, I turned to face him casually.Abel Montes Stravkos.My gaze raked over his sharp appearance, memories flooding in. I remembered him. We'd only met once, but he'd stayed, tucked away in memory. Only now he appeared bigger, the posh Armani suit he had on stretching over muscle, his chest broader, his arms thicker. I leveled my eyes on his neck, willing myself to look up at his face.He'd sat there that day, saying nothing as his father and doctor humiliated me. I'd laid on that cold floor begging, urging him with my eyes to save me. To do something. To man up. But he didn't. He'd sat there, watched me struggle, watched me cry my eyes out as they took away every ounce of my dignity.It was unforgivable.Even though he didn't want to get binded to me, he'd done nothing to stop it. He was twice as guilty, even though he didn't have any control over the situation. He'd become the head one day, just like his father. He'd rule with an iron fist as well. He'd be a much bigger monster. A much more disgusting predator.A devil.One I'd vowed to destroy six years ago.SolanaI straightened, masking my grief briefly behind a wall of indifference before letting my gaze travel up his face. Mother had taught me how to hide my feelings well over the years. She was always at the door whenever Father came back late from work with stuffy excuses of being stuck with traffic or intentionally staying back to finish up some files that had to be turned in the next day. She'd smile, and pat his shoulder as though in understanding. But when he took his clothes off in the bedroom, I watched her sniff them for the faintest smell of a cologne different from his. Her eyes would water, but she'd blink them off the minute she saw me looking. She'd toss the clothes aside and crouch with a million-dollar smile that never seemed to reach her eyes if you knew her well enough.She was the strongest woman I'd ever seen. The strongest.My heart clanged hard against my chest, as I inhaled in shallow, breathy intakes. Time seemed to slow down, the world tilting, a splash of bla
SolanaI didn't speak with my mother. Verbally though. But I could feel her eyes as they followed me about, the grief in them shinning so bright, it was heart wrenching to meet her gaze as I faced Abel Montes, the new Lord of my life. She'd been against the idea of caving in to Norman Stravkos' outrageous demands, stating that she'd already lost a daughter and couldn't lose the other. But her words hadn't been reasonable. Surely, the contract I'd signed together with Abel would hold no water in any court of law, but I very well knew the consequences if I hadn't signed it. If I'd ran away, just like Helen had done. They would all pay with their lives — and Norman Stravkos would hunt me to the ends of the earth. He wouldn't rest until he'd successfully eliminated every single member of the Williams family.Every single one of them.I swallowed hard, turning slightly to glance at Helen and her son again. At Mother, my uncles and cousins. At the family I'd grown up in. The people who nurt
AbelI stared at Solana. At the way she sat up straight, her slender shoulders sharp, her eyes defiant black slits, her chin jutting upwards, and I recoiled, stunned.I'd never seen anything like this. I'd never seen any woman quite like her.Courageous. Strong. Defiant.She would back down for no one. She would fight tooth and nail, and would always get what she wanted. Even if she was afraid. She would not give in to fear no matter what.Up until today, I didn't know a single thing about her. I underestimated her — thinking she was one of those quiet ladies who was foolishly obedient to a fault, and had no willpower of their own. Who cowered at my father's commands, but silently resented him. But she proved that she was different. She didn't hide her resentment. She didn't let his cruelty — I'd heard the insensitive words he'd whispered about her father — weigh her down. She'd challenged him head on, not minding if it costed her life.No one had ever bounced back to my father like t
Abel“You know how it feels to lose a loved one?” Her tone was sharp, and the bitter laugh that followed, even sharper. “Well, newsflash: my father and I were the farthest thing from close. I made a vow to loathe him forever, for selling his daughters off to a rival. I don't need your sympathy, Abel. If I wanted that, I might as well hang myself.”I swallowed hard, unable to look away from her — my shirt collar suddenly felt so tight, my black coat stiff around my pits, my eyes watering.I didn't dare speak. I couldn't. It felt as though my vocal cords had all suddenly gone numb.“I keep wondering though if you really know what it feels like as you claim. To be suddenly separated from the people who gave you life and brought you up? To watch them look at you from a few metres off, helplessly afraid to come speak or console you because they're guilty for what's not even their faults?”That, I had no idea what if felt like. I didn't know it bothered her so much; not speaking to the rest
AbelThe funeral rounded off by evening time, and everyone was too exhausted to do anything, let alone travel back home. We stayed back in Tuscany, sharing a suite of rooms — my bedroom was right next to Solana's and the walls were thin so I could very well hear whatever she was up to in her room. Our flight to New York left early the next day, and Solana would move into my mansion. She's finished her studies and graduated with the overall best result, and now that she'd turned twenty-three, it was time for her to step into her role as my wife. My possession.Mine.It was a minute past seven when I knocked softly on her door to announce my presence. I was clutching a stainless tray containing her dinner. I knew she was completely gutted by the event that took place today, and as a kindness, I'd ordered a kitchen staff to bring her food upstairs. The scent of the food made my stomach rumble now as I stood in the corridor, waiting for her to open the door. Left alone for me, I wouldn't
Abel“I...” I swallowed hard, rolling off her and turning away from her momentarily to adjust my pants properly. “This isn't what you think it is. Fuck...”“I don't care. Leave my room this instant.”I groaned, running my hand through my hair, and staring hard at her. “Goodness. Why do you have to be so difficult?”“Difficult?” She echoed incredulously, sitting up. “I'm being difficult, Abel? Me? How am I being difficult?”“Solana, that's not what I — ”Her eyes hardened. “I'll tell you what's difficult. Do you know what's difficult? Being separated from your family at the tender age of sixteen. Do you know what's difficult? Constantly turning your father's plea for forgiveness when you know whatever happened was beyond his power and he'd never voluntarily give you away like that, but you just feel it's easier to hate him. Do you know what's difficult? Losing touch with your family members and watching them still suffer even after being a sacrificial lamb for their sake. And do you wa
SolanaAbel's attempt to understand my hurt came as an unexpected surprise to me. Even though we were now married, I knew I meant nothing to him. I knew how much he loved his space. I knew how irritated he felt towards me for sharing that same space. For being a part of his life, and so, therefore, I'd expected cruelty. Snide remarks, shouting at any slight provocation, hatred... I'd expected all of it. But this, this kindness? This shocking concern...was any of it genuine at all? Was it borne out of pity? Did he really care? I didn't like it. I wanted him to hate me just like the rest, not care for me.And what was that sizzling heat that pooled between my legs when he held me down? My body had never betrayed me until today. Until that very moment. I made a mental note to avoid every circumstance where he'd be anywhere close to me. I couldn't trust my body around him at all.When I heard his footfalls recede down the hallway, I turned around, zeroing in on the tray of food he'd kept
SolanaI woke up the next morning, still feeling worse than a train wreck. The headache had reduced, but my arms still ached. A loud knock on the door drew my attention away from the duffel bag I was stuffing.I tucked a loose strand covering my left eye behind my ear, fully expecting it to be Abel. “Who is it?”“It's me, ma'am.” The accent was thick. Italian, and unfamiliar.“Come in.”He pushed the door open and stepped in, his tall frame intimidating. “The car is out front and ready.” I recognized him as the man who'd stood at the door after accompanying us here yesterday. He was also close to Abel — and was constantly by his side. Perhaps he worked as a bodyguard for him.He moved toward the two suitcases close to the dresser and hoisted them up, looking me over with that steely, haunting gaze of his. “Would that be all?”“Yes,” I replied. I could carry the duffel and my make-up bag. Abel had told me to pack just one suitcase because we weren't planning of staying in Calabria for