CHAPTER TWO
1269 Words
Daisy’s POV
‘Who is that?’ Damien asked.
‘No one. Not important. Please, continue’ I said, erasing any emotions from my face.
He looked at me in suspicion and opened his mouth to say something, but huffed instead.
He slid the contract across the table, I stared at it like it was a trap. Because that’s exactly what it was.
“You don’t have to love him,” Damien said in fake sympathy, his voice low but steady. “This isn’t about love. It’s about business, family and protection.”
“I don’t even know if I like him,” I whispered, feeling my throat tighten.
“Remember, this is a secret deal. Don’t tell anyone,” Damien said. “Not your friends. Not your family. Not even your mum.”
I blinked.
“Why?”
“Why?” He asked in mock surprise.
“Because if this gets out… if anyone knows what’s really happening… it’ll blow up in ways you can’t control.”
***
That night, after I left the mansion, I sat on my bed, staring at my phone. The contract stared back at me across the bed. I thought about other things. I could actually rip it up and walk away.
But where to? There was nowhere safe from the Mafia.
The next morning, I agreed to meet with Eric at a small café near the edge of the city. He wore the same quiet look he’d worn the night I caught him kissing that other man. He looked tired. Worn out in a way that made me wonder if maybe he hated this too.
“Daisy,” he said softly, sliding into the seat across from me. “About last night… I know it was a lot.”
I sipped the coffee he bought me, the bitter taste somehow sharper than usual.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth? About your sexuality? About everything?”
He swallowed, voice cracking. “I wanted to. I wanted to so badly. But my father… he’s not a man you argue with.”
“What about me? Did you ever think I deserved to know the truth?”
He shook his head, eyes full of regret. “I thought I was protecting you.”
I laughed bitterly. “Protecting me by lying? How does that work?”
He didn’t answer. I didn’t need him to because all he had to say was a lie.
“Have you thought about what this means? The engagement?” I asked finally.
Eric sighed, running a hand through his hair.
“It’s complicated,” he said. “I don’t want to drag you into this world, Daisy. But I can’t protect you if you’re not inside it.”
“So I’m just supposed to pretend? Play the part of the perfect fiancée while you… what? Keep secrets?”
‘Wait, what? Secret fiancée, what does that mean?’ He asked, clearly taken aback.
Okay, maybe I shouldn’t have told him. But I went on anyways.
‘You heard right. Your dad asked me to be your fake fiancée, to get engaged to you in public to protect myself and your stupid secret,’ I said, staring at my nails like they were the most interesting thing in the world.
‘Wait. That means my father knows about me?’ He asked quietly, and I can swear I heard a little triumph in his voice.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I asked, determined not to be affected by his answer.
‘Yes, whatever,’ he said.
‘Did you ever even love me? Or was I merely a tool for you to cover up? Did my kiss ever mean something to you? Even once?’ I asked, almost desperately. I wanted to know I was loved and wanted, at least for once in the three years we spent together.
He looked sadly at me for a while before waving his head sideways. ‘But you were never a fool, Daisy. I deeply care about you, and you were a good friend to me,’ he added quietly.
I scoffed. Good friend.
‘Anyways, let’s talk about this later. I’m filled with a lot of emotions right now,’ I said, standing up.
‘Daisy, wait-‘ he said before seeing the look of resolution in my eyes and nodded in understanding.
I walked out of the cafe with more brisk than usual and held my pent up tears until I was at home. How was I ever going to recover from the shock and the whole mafia situation? Everything sounds so overwhelming and heavy.
The next day, Damien called me to his house.
“You should start getting ready,” Damien said first, his arms crossed, eyes locked on mine.
“Good morning to you, too. Ready for what? Another lecture on how this is all for my good?” I said, surprising myself with the sarcasm.
He looked taken aback for a while before smiling deviously. “You finally got some courage? I knew there was a fire in you after all. Anyways, the engagement is next week. You’ll need to act like you belong in this family.”
I let out a bitter laugh. “Right. Because nothing says ‘belonging’ like forcing a girl to marry her cheating boyfriend.”
“Fake marriage,” he corrected, that same smile playing on his lips. “And are you still on the boyfriend thing? Eric never loved you, princess. And he never will.” He said coldly.
I stood, arms tense at my sides. I was taken aback. “I’m a human with emotions, too. You think I don’t see what’s happening? You’re using me. You and Eric. All of you.”
He stepped closer, his voice quieter but sharper. “And you’re letting us. Because deep down, you know the alternative is worse.”
I hated that he was right. I hated it more that he knew it. I hated him, Mafia or not. I hated him so much that my heart hurt.
“I didn’t ask for any of this,” I said, my voice cracking despite myself.
“No one ever does,” he replied coldly. But here you are. And whether you like it or not, this engagement will give you power, only if you use it.”
I stared at him in confusion.
He rolled his eyes before explaining. “You’re Lorenzo Romano’s daughter. That makes you valuable. But value isn’t safety. This engagement is for your benefit. But only if you stop sulking and start acting like you’re already one of us.”
“You think I can just flip a switch. And can you quit with the princess thing already?” I asked.
“I think you already have. You have some fire in you that says more than you think. And no, I’m not quitting.” He replied coyly.
Silence stretched between us, heavy with everything unspoken.
Finally, I exhaled. “So what? I pick out a dress, smile for the cameras, hold Eric’s gay hand and pretend I’m happy?”
“Yes. And you keep your head high while doing it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You give orders like you’re the one marrying me.”
“I give orders because I’m the one keeping you alive.” He answered slyly.
That shut me up.
Then, softer, almost too soft to catch, he added, “You’re stronger than you know, Princess. I want you to act like it.”
I didn’t answer. But I didn’t argue either.
Maybe, just maybe, I was done being a pawn.
- Writer
