The Mafia's Stolen Bride

Chapter 2

Lexi POV

Beep! Beep! Beep!

I groaned as I opened my eyes, my alarm driving daggers into my skull as it went off on the bedside table.

“No,” I croaked, pulling my pillow over my head as I felt about blindly for my phone to switch off the assaulting sound, breathing a sigh of relief when I finally found the right button.

Only, my relief was short lived as my bedroom door flung open, slamming against the wall with a bang.

“Alexandra!” The nasal voice of my uncle Hector’s wife was worse than the bloody alarm. “Get out of bed already, you lazy girl! You’re getting married in a few hours and you need to look your very best.”

Harriet tugged the duvet from my body and wrinkled her nose up in disgust.

“Where on earth did you go last night to come back smelling like a cheap hooker?” she asked, grabbing me by my hair and pulling me from my bed.

I bit back the scream which threatened to erupt from my throat, knowing that it would just result in her slapping me. Instead, I followed her into the bathroom and stood still as she stripped the oversized t-shirt I slept in from my body, the sneer of revulsion on her face a look I had become accustomed to.

“Shower and wash that filth off your face. You will be perfect for your fiance. Mr. Jurnetzov has been promised a bride of purity and grace, and he will damned well get that,” Harriet ordered, turning the water on in the shower before forcing me into it.

I gasped as the freezing cold water hit my skin, my hands flying to my mouth to cover up the sound as Harriet closed the shower door behind me.

“Five minutes, girl. I will give you five minutes to wash properly and you had better be waiting for me by the time I arrive,” she left the threat hanging in the air as she vacated the bathroom.

I blinked back the tears and picked up the soap, lathering it in the sponge. I didn’t bother trying to turn on the hot water to make the frozen shower more bearable - it had never been connected. Just one more way my father had shown how much he cared for me.

I guess the cold water was actually a blessing. It certainly helped clear the fuzziness of my alcohol soaked mind, but it didn’t really help with reminding me what the hell had happened last night. I frowned as I tried to recall it all - the blasted minidress and how it kept riding up my arse, the shots… so many shots, Charlie moaning about not being allowed to attend my sham of a wedding, and then she suggested I screw a guy who probably would have murdered me in my sleep.

Fuck… I didn’t lose my virginity to that serial killer look-alike, did I?

I shook my head, letting the freezing water drench my hair. If something drastic had happened, I’m sure I would remember it. And the fact that I had woken up in my own bed with my favourite nightshirt on?

Clearly the most exciting thing that happened last night was me losing count of how much we had to drink.

Washing as fast as I could, I rinsed the soap from my hair and skin before I turned off the water, shivering slightly as I stepped out of the shower and grabbed the ragged towel that had been left for me to use. I wrapped it around me as I heard my bedroom door open and shut - Harriet taking less time than she had said to return just to be able to punish me.

Only it wasn’t Harriet.

“Ah, Alexandra,” Hector smiled as he entered the bathroom without even bothering to knock. “I wanted to see that you were ready for your big day.”

I swallowed the bile which crept up into my throat.

Charlie had always said I shouldn’t let Hector control me, but I had never told her how much I feared him. Being a mere fifteen minutes older than my father, he had been a constant presence in my family home for as long as I could remember. My earliest memories of him were him sneaking out of my mother’s bedroom in the dead of night, my mother’s sobs muffled as she cried into her pillow - and that memory alone was enough to make me scared of him.

“Yes, Hector. I’m just waiting for Harriet to help me into my wedding gown,” I told him, hoping the mention of his wife would make him leave.

He didn’t. Instead, he stepped closer, his breath brushing against my damp shoulder as he circled me, a sickening smile on his face.

“She’s busy dealing with a catering issue,” he said slowly, his finger tracing against my collarbone in a way that made me want to slap him silly.

But I couldn’t.

I still had the bruises from the last time I defied him.

He had always creeped me out, making me feel as if he could see right through my clothing. And even though he had never touched me like that, I knew that he was desperate to torture me in the same way he had tortured my mother.

“I will be counting the days until I see you again, sweet Alexandra,” he mumbled into my ear.

He let the words fade as his eyes examined me once again. It was only the sound of Harriet screaming orders to someone outside my bedroom door that had him step away, acting oh so innocent as she entered the room.

“Oh, Hector,” she exclaimed when she saw him in the bathroom, a skeptical look on her face. “What are you doing here?”

He smiled sweetly at her and wrapped his arms around her, kissing her forehead.

“I just came to see if you were needing any help. I know how stubborn Alexandra can be, and I am sure today is no exception. It will be a relief when she is finally out of our hands.”

The tension in Harriet’s body disappeared, and she smiled at him before frowning at me, discontent and hatred in her eyes.

“What are you doing standing there gawking,” she asked, stepping toward me and slapping me across the face.

I gripped my cheek, certain that the woman’s fingers would be imprinted there as I lowered my gaze, hiding my own hatred for the pair of them. As much as I didn’t want to be married to the man my father had chosen for me, I couldn’t wait to leave my family home. The constant abuse and ridicule I endured there was enough to make anyone lose hope and be sucked into the dizzy turmoil of self-hatred and desperation.

It hadn’t taken me long to understand what had driven my mother to overdose on sleeping tablets. Whether it was suicide, or just a means to escape, I could now understand her motives in a way the ten year old me never could.

Hector kissed his wife before he slipped out of the bathroom, throwing a last meaningful look my way - a look filled with the promise of further pain and suffering on my part.

And one thing screamed in my mind - I was not going to let them destroy me like they had destroyed my mother.

One way or another, I was going to run away.