I wasn't a good person. I'd known that for a very, VERY, long time.
At the sweet age of 4, I pushed my playmate off the monkey bars after he made fun of the freckles spotting my cheeks, which weren't even that bad. He'd dislocated a knee, and I'd been made to apologize, but of course I hadn't meant it. At 12, I spiked the hairspray of the cheerleading captain with fish oil while she was in the locker room's shower. She'd stank for a week, but she'd declared war after unfairly kicking me off the team, and all was fair in love and war. At 25, I orchestrated the very public breakup of a coworker and her man, mostly because I was feeling particularly petty after she threw me under the bus at work to save her ass. Plus, her man did indeed hit on me. They were engaged.
So you see, I wasn't the best of persons, so the overwhelming cloud of murderous rage in my chest wasn't just anger. I clenched my fist, my manicured nails digging into my palms, because if I didn't, I might be tempted to swipe the nearest weapon off my vanity desk and stab my father in the chest. The old man had lived long enough, way longer than I preferred, actually. He could go to hell.
"You got me engaged... to a crime family!?"
"The Diavolos aren't just a crime family. They own the entire East Coast, and their influence spreads across continents." Elijah Belrose, owner of Belrose Winery and patriarch of the Belrose family, snarled. "It's just like you to be this ungrateful. You have no better prospects. At 29, you've never had a serious relationship, you've never held a job for more than 3 months, and you're an alcoholic."
'Was' an alcoholic. I'd struggled with severe depression for a bit in college and had turned to alcohol for comfort. Had almost taken my life too, but then I'd realized I didn't really want to die, only fancied the idea of ending my miserable existence. So, I'd pulled myself together and moved on with life. But father never mentioned that part. Every day, he held the fact over my head that he'd had to find professional help for me. Never did he mention that he was the whole reason I'd turned out so fucked up in the first place.
"You are the type of woman men fuck as a one-night stand. Washed out, past your prime, and ran through. It's a miracle Mr. Diavolo even considered marrying you. For once, your pretty face has proved useful to me."
I'd felt anger before. In fact, I felt anger quite often, but this fury was new. It came from deep within me, shaking me at my core and making my soul boil.
"Why would I ever want to get married?" I snarled with even more venom. "After all, Mom did and look how she turned out. She watched her son die in a fire because her husband wasn't there for her, and she eventually committed suicide because of him. And now, he's marrying the only surviving member of his family to a man just as sick and twisted as he is."
"Your mother was weak, her death had nothing to do with me. But you aren't like her, are you?" I watched as my father's glare fell, a corner of his lips lifting in a sinister smile. "You did inherit some of her stupidity traits, but you are more like me than anything. You are calculating, practical, and most importantly, greedy. Becoming the Mrs. of the Diavolo family would mean you would have access to unlimited power. You won't refuse this marriage... because it is too good of a deal to pass up."
I loathed this man, I really did, but the fact was that he knew me. At this point in my life, I had long given up on finding happiness, and love was too foreign a concept to even consider. My best bet was satisfaction. And oh, wouldn't being so powerful, so untouchable that no one could ever hurt me again, make me the most satisfied woman on earth?
"You're right, I am greedy." Gazing straight into my father's eyes, I took a defiant step forward. "And that is exactly why I don't hand out favors for free. You're doing this because the winery is almost bankrupt, aren't you? You need a loaded family to save your dying business. Well, if I'm going to bail you out, I want half your shares and management rights in the company."
My demand rattled my father for sure, and it took all I had to not laugh at his shocked expression.
"You are the only heir to the family business, it will all go to you eventually. There is no need to involve yourself in the management now."
"You're right." I tapped my chin, faking nonchalance. "But I want my benefits now. Imagine me taking over after you die and I don't know the first thing about wine or running a company. It should be no biggie since I'm your only heir." Tilting my head, I smiled very brightly. "It would be a pity if you died unexpectedly without preparing me for your legacy. Or if the marriage fell through because you didn't hand over the shares on time."
At first, it seemed Father would hit me. For sure, he realized I was threatening him, and he looked angry enough to. It wouldn't be the first he'd hit me, I'd gotten my deadly temper from him after all. He was able to control himself this time, however, instead of taking a deep breath.
"Remember, those who go after too much always end up losing it all. If it's shares you want, it's shares you'll get. But..." He warningly wagged his finger at me. "I don't care what methods you use, but you must get that ring on your finger, or else I'm throwing you out on the streets for good. No inheritance, no money. Now prepare, the Diavolo's should arrive in an hour."
Once the door clicked shut as my father left my room, I sat down on the chair in front of my vanity. Turning, I looked at myself in the mirror. Emerald green eyes identical to my mother's, and long chestnut brown hair, the exact shade of my father's greeted me. The freckles on my face were all mine though, a small reminder that I was separate from them. I was my own person, with my own destiny to fulfill.
As I picked up my brush to begin applying my makeup, I swore to myself that I would stop letting life push me around. From now on, I would take what I wanted, consequences be damned.