Elara's POV,
The first thing I hear is the shout. The second is the sound of ceramic shattering against my skull.
Pain explodes behind my eyes, sharp and blinding, and I barely have time to gasp before the hot soup spills down my neck. My knees hit the marble floor with a dull thud, and I hissed in pain.
"Useless!" Anya screams, her voice as shrill as usual. "Are you stupid? You brought it too hot!"
I don't answer or look up. I just kneel with my face to the ground, because kneeling is expected.
Dorine's heels click against the floor and she peers down at the mess like she's inspecting dirt.
"What's all this noise?" she asks.
Anya scoffs. "She didn't warn me about how hot the soup was so I burned my tongue."
Dorine's eyes flick to me and before I can blink, she slaps me hard.
"She wanted to hurt you," Dorine snickers. "Jealous, wicked girl. Always plotting."
The shouting and the insults blur and I zone out because zoning out is the only way to survive.
You let the pain pass through you like water, and you don't feel anything.
"Clean it," Dorine snaps her fingers in my face. "And bring another plate."
I gather the broken pieces with shaking hands, and my vision swims. Blood drips onto the floor, but no one helps me. They never do because if they did, they'd lose their job.
Just like Lucy. I'd never forget her.
On my way to the kitchen, a servant stops me. "The patriarch wants to see you."
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and walk into Matteo Virelli's study. He doesn't even look at my face and just points to the laptop on the desk.
"Finish this," he says. "By morning."
The blood from before drips from my hair onto the carpet and that's when he notices.
He hisses in disgust. "Get rid of that stain".
When he leaves without a single question as to why I was bleeding. Without caring about what happened to his own daughter. Sometimes, I wonder if I truly am his daughter.
I always pray I am not. I pray I'm just another servant he finds it sick to play with. He's a monster.
I stare at the door long after it closes and lick my lips.
It's only a matter of time, I remind myself. I've given them enough and taken enough. Soon, I'll be gone.
A week later, and I turn nineteen. There's a great celebration and they announce a grand masquerade ball for Anya's engagement to Lucien Kòrvac, Don of a powerful mafia dynasty. The banquet hall is filled with silk, laughter and masks.
No one notices me, which is perfect to be honest. Because while they celebrate, I pack.
Two changes of clothes, documents and cash I've stolen from my father's accounts over the years. More than enough to erase myself. I was giddy.
All I need now are my books and one last visit to the only room that ever felt safe in the entire mansion.
The library is dim when I slip inside and I startle when I hear his voice.
I pause, hidden between the shelves, and listening despite myself.
The masked man is speaking low, and frustrated.
"If I cut them off completely, the ports shut down and the suppliers panic. If I wait, the debt compounds and they bleed me slowly."
A pause.
"Either way, it's inefficient."
He exhales, sharp and controlled. "There has to be a third option."
I speak without even thinking. "You're looking at it from the front."
The man turns sharply, and puts off his phone. I nearly retreat but continue, figuring I'd already started.
"You don't have to cut them off or wait. You just reroute the pressure."
He's watching me now and his voice is clipped when he says. "Explain."
I swallow hard. "You let them think the ports are safe. Then you squeeze their insurers, not their suppliers. Once the insurance collapses, the suppliers abandon them on their own."
There's silence and I think he's going to reprimand me before he lets out a slow breath, and says. "You'd cause a collapse without leaving fingerprints."
I nod. "Exactly. They'd ruin themselves."
He doesn't praise me. He just studies me like I'm a weapon. "Where did you learn that?"
I hesitate. Should I tell him I was forced to learn how to tactic in such situations? Should I tell him my supposed father used to send me as his representative to do shady deals with people?
Instead, I shrug. "You learn things when you're not important enough to be noticed."
"Who are you?" he asks.
"Someone the Virelli household wouldn't miss."
I inwardly slap myself. You fool! He would catch on that you're trying to escape and he would tell on you! But he doesn't even react.
He glances at my necklace instead. "That's beautiful."
I blink. "Thank you."
I start to collect my books, heart racing. This is it. I'm starting over.
Then I pause. I am starting over but I've never really had to do something I was always forbidden to do since I was in this place. I want, just once, to do something for myself.
"How does sex feel?" I ask suddenly, surprising even myself, and the man stills. Of all things to want for myself, I asked for sex. How foolish.
"Depends."
I hum, remembering all the items I used to clean up after Anya and her boy toys. She always seemed to be in a good mood after 'sex' and that made me want to…
"I want to experience it," I say. "As a favor to myself."
He lets out a soft laugh. "You don't know what you're asking."
"I do."
"Do you even know who I am?"
I pause, then shake my head. "No but I don't want to. Don't you want to feel that thrill of not knowing who you're about to share something intimate with?"
He steps closer and his green eyes glints wickedly under the moonlight seeping into the room. I bite my lip, suddenly nervous.
"I suppose I do"
The first kiss surprises me. My heart races as he leans in, and our lips meet in a deep kiss. His mouth is warm and demanding, tongue sliding against mine. I melt into it, loving the taste of him, the way his lips press firm and hungry. I want more, pulling him closer every time he tries to break away, my body aching for that connection.
We kiss again, harder, my hands clutching his shirt as his fingers trails down my side.
"Cara," he whispers against my lips, his voice low and knowing, sending a thrill through me. Even though that wasn't my name, I didn't care. I kiss him back fiercely, savoring the heat building between us. His hand slip under my skirt, pushing aside my panties. I gasp into his mouth as his fingers find my pussy, already wet and ready.
He circles my clit slowly at first, then dips one finger inside me, stretching my virgin tightness. I moan, breaking the kiss only to dive back in, needing his lips on mine. His finger pumps in and out, adding a second, curling to hit a particular spot that makes my legs shake. Pleasure builds fast, my hips bucking against his hand. I cum hard, my pussy clenching around his fingers, waves of ecstasy crashing over me as I kiss him desperately through it.
"Cara, you're so tight". He murmurs, withdrawing his fingers. I whimper, wanting it more now.
I don't even know what I want. He unzips his pants, his hard cock springing free. I stare, now very nervous, and he pulls me into another kiss as he lifts my leg, positioning himself at my entrance.
"There's no going back, you know". He whispers against my lips. I bite them and nod vigorously.
"Do it."