I punched the punching bag so hard the creases of my hands ached. But I didn't care. I wanted to vent the anger I felt at everything that was happening.
Accepting the fact that I would soon be a married woman was one thing, but having my plans realigned and being forced to change the entire course of my life overnight was quite another.
Thanks to the damn ‘Ndrangheta, Dominique and I were forced to move up the wedding, which would happen in four days. I wouldn't even have time to choose a decent wedding dress. Not that I cared, but... I at least wanted to have a choice.
I didn't know what was happening, but the mafia had become chaotic. Dad attended meetings almost every day and never discussed the matter with me. He had been quiet and thoughtful, which was not a good sign at all.
I threw another punch and the bag lurched forward, shaking from the force that had been wielded.
“What did he do to you?” Marco's voice sounded behind me.
The bag swung back and I hit it again, harder this time. My knuckles cracked, pain and adrenaline mixing.
“He didn't do anything.”
Marco held the bag and frowned at me. “What's the matter?"
I sighed and pulled off my gloves with my teeth, throwing them on the floor. I grabbed a bottle of water from the corner and took long sips to wet my dry throat, letting the ice-cold liquid splash my neck and chest.
“Did you hear that my wedding has been moved up?" I asked, pulling my sweaty bangs back.
Marco sighed and his eyes took on a sad glint.
“Yes, and I'm so sorry."
I tossed the bottle away and sat down on the floor, crossing my legs. My breathing was ragged and my chest rose and fell in rapid succession.
“Well, yeah. This is the real problem."
Marrying Dominique was already an acceptable condition since I met him and found out he was hot, handsome, and had a great sense of humor. But... damn, I liked my freedom so much, living my life without the mask.
Marco crouched in front of me and stroked my arm with his fingertips.
“We can still try to find a solution, Pi. We don't have to give in to Gilliam Venturelli's whims," he said, anger exuding from every pore.
I shook my head.
“Gilliam is our Capo. Nothing we do will change his decision."
“Then let's run away,” he objected.
I couldn't change my destiny, no matter what I did. Gilliam had decided on the marriage, just as he had decided to bring the ceremony forward. And Dad agreed, for my safety, fearing the danger I had been running since I was declared Dominique Venturelli's bride.
“I am the heir to the Romano house, Marco. Do you really think I would run away and abandon my surname?” I retorted with raised eyebrows.
“I would never do that.”
On the outside, my body was hot, panting, and sweaty. My cheeks were flushed, sweat was dripping down my neck, and I must have looked a mess; inside, I was covered in rage and full of energy to expend. I wanted to strangle the neck of every member of the ‘Ndrangheta with my bare hands, strip them, and bury them like they were garbage bags not worth the trouble.
I wasn't judging Gilliam for his choices, that wasn't my role.
“Damn it, Carmen. I wish I could find another solution, but... I can't," he lamented.
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