Carter’s face was drenched with tears. She was sure she looked a mess, but she didn’t care. She was so confused and lost, and she had no idea what she was going to do next. She stood in the middle of her living room staring at her mother—her mother! Someone she thought she’d never meet. She didn’t know how to handle this situation. “Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to hurt me?” Carter whispered. She didn’t know what else to say. Carter couldn’t understand why the woman wanted to hurt her. She knew she shouldn’t even consider hearing her mother out, but curiosity about what she had to say won out.
Anastacia’s hazel eyes warmed. “I would never want to hurt you. I love you so much, Carterina. That’s why I can’t leave. I . . . just can’t. I’ve been searching for you for five years . . . You’re better at hiding than I am.” She closed the distance between them.
Carter’s body stiffened when Anastacia’s fingers lightly touched the tears on her face.
“Carterina’s tears . . .” She stared at Carter’s face in wonder. “I’ve always wondered how you could look so much like me, but be so different. I envy your tears, my beautiful baby girl. Though I am filled with emotion at this moment, I find it difficult to express it with tears . . . I always have . . .”
“I don’t know you,” Carter whispered, looking away from Anastacia. “I don’t trust you.”
Anastacia grasped Carter’s chin and turned her face back to her. “Look at me, Carterina. Do not lower your eyes—”
This was something familiar. Her father had told her the same thing many times, but she was sure Anastacia was aware of that. Carter looked up at her.
“I know you don’t know me, Carterina, but I know you, and that’s a start . . .” She cupped Carter’s face softly. “As for trust . . . what did your father always say? Tell me, baby girl.”
Carter looked into her mother’s loving eyes and cried her response. “Trust is never given—it’s earned.”
“The words he spoke are true, honey. I promise you. I will do everything I must to earn your trust. We will move at your pace. I am not usually a patient woman, but you are my child. Patience is one of the many things I have for you that I don’t have for anyone else. I’m sure you’ve already heard, but your mother isn’t known to be the nicest woman in the world,” Anastacia said with a wink. “But it’s not just me . . . Your daddy was that way sometimes, too, but I’m positive you never got it as bad as I did when that man was mad . . .”
Despite her sadness, a small smile appeared on Carter’s face. “You wanna bet?” Carter muttered. Her dad could be pretty vicious when he wanted to be, but then again, so could she.
Anastacia laughed softly. “He spoiled you, Carterina. And you bullied that poor, poor man to no end.”
Carter bit her lips to fight her laughter, but she couldn’t hide the guilty smile in her eyes. She did bully her dad sometimes. But it was all in good fun.
“I don’t think I’ve ever laughed as hard as I did the day you hid your father’s gummy worm stash.”
Carter’s mouth fell open and shocked laughter escaped her lips. How did she know that?!
Anastacia smiled. “You said to him, ‘A gummy worm addiction is an absurd addiction for a serial killer daddy’ . . .” Anastacia laughed softly. “And you were only five. You knew how to press his buttons, that’s for sure.”
A smile lit up Carter’s face.
Anastacia wiped the remaining tears from her eyes. “You believe what I tell you now? You know your mama was there? I did not leave you?”
Carter nodded her head. She believed her, she had to. Her father’s gummy worm addiction was top secret information. And it was indeed a ridiculous addiction for a serial killer. Carter would forever stand by her words.
Anastacia smiled with relief “This is good. Honesty is the first step to trust, Carterina. I promise to always be honest with you. It may take me some time to tell you everything, but I promise you that I will never lie to you. We will start there, all right?”
Carter was hesitant for a moment, still afraid to take this step, but eventually she nodded. “All right . . .”
“Can we please talk?” Anastacia asked.
Carter slowly reached for her mother’s hand. Anastacia smiled and then took hold of her hand. They locked eyes for a moment before Carter did what she knew Anastacia would disapprove of—she looked away. She turned and left the living room, pulling her mother along with her.
“Why do I look so much like you?”
Anastacia chuckled at Carter’s question. She flicked her black, silky hair over her shoulder and crossed her legs. The woman had an air of royalty about her that Carter found fascinating. Her eyes were stern yet warm and every move she made was graceful and captivating. Carter envied her. She might look like her mother, but she’d always thought herself to be a little tomboyish—except for her love for dresses, that was. She silently wondered if she could move like Anastacia. Maybe she would try.
Carter watched Anastacia reach forward to grab her wine glass. She leaned back in her seat and took another sip of her own. They had come into the kitchen for some privacy to get to know each other—or for Carter to get to know Anastacia. It seemed the woman hadn’t been lying about knowing Carter well. Carter hadn’t really changed much- personality wise- since she was a teenager.
“You look like me because I made you . . .” she said through soft laughter.
Carter smiled and rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I know that,” she said dryly. “I mean, I saw a picture of you when you were younger. We look like sisters. How?”
Anastacia shrugged her shoulders. “I was as shocked as your father was.” She frowned and took another sip of wine. “He yelled at me for hours, like I had done it on purpose.”
Carter laughed softly and took a sip of her wine, savoring the sweet taste before speaking again. “That sounds like Daddy. Sometimes he looked at me like I did it on purpose, too,” Carter said somberly.
An indecipherable emotion flashed across Anastacia’s face before her features returned to neutral. “Where have you been the past five years, Carterina?” Anastacia asked.
Carter hesitated to answer. She really didn’t like to talk about herself or that horrible time in her life.
“Relax, Carterina,” her mother said as if she could read Carter’s thoughts. “Just tell me the bare minimum. You don’t have to go deep—not yet. We won’t go there until you’re ready.”
Carter locked eyes with her mother and nodded her head in agreement. “I lived in St. Louis a while, met a guy, Henry . . . But that relationship was over years ago. I lived with him for a while. He helped me. I was,”—Carter frowned and cleared her throat uncomfortably—“not well, and he helped me get better. I left him while he was out getting our dinner one night. It was hard, but I had to get out of that city, and my relationship with him, never really felt…right to me.” That was the first time Carter had ever admitted that out loud. She’d always felt bad for feeling that way since Henry had done so much for, but the truth was, she never really felt comfortable in that relationship. Henry was a sweet Christian boy, but there was always something off about the way he clung to her. Carter shook out of her thoughts and tuned back in to the present. That relationship was years ago, no point in thinking about it now. Carter continued speaking to her mother. “Umm… After I left St. Louis I moved to Hope Beach, met a friend, and settled there until Nathan took me away . . .”
“And you met Ky-Ky first?”
Ky-Ky? Who the hell is that, Carter thought.
“Kyle,” Anastacia answered her silent question. “Me and the kid go way back . . . He just doesn’t know it,” Anastacia said. “Now answer the question,” she said softly.
Carter nodded slowly. “Umm . . . yes. I met Kyle almost two years ago. He’s my best friend.” Even more than Jenna was since Jenna really didn’t know the truth about her, and Kyle did.
“Very well. I’m glad. You two have a cute friendship,” sh
e said with a small smile. “I’m glad you met.”
So was Carter.
Anastacia cleared her throat uncomfortably. “So you two are just friends, right? You never dated?” She tried to sound casual, but failed.
Carter frowned at her sudden uneasiness. “Umm . . . no, we’ve never dated. We could have, but we didn’t. It just never happened that way. We’ve always been just friends.”
Anastacia seemed to relax—which raised Carter’s curiosity. That was weird, she thought. But after a moment of uncomfortable silence, Carter shook off her curiosity in the name of moving forward. “Tell me about yourself,” she said.
Anastacia gave her a curious look.
“I want know about you. Who are you? Where do I come from? Why do I only look like you and not Daddy?”
“You have your father’s nose,” she said, smiling. “But the rest of you is Stone. I’m surprised Angelo never mentioned this to you. The Stone family shares similar features. You have my Alexis’s eyes—he was my father—and your hair is black like his. His hair grew fast, too. He wore it long because he found no reason to cut it anymore. My mother was an African woman—hence my dark skin even though my father was a white man. She worked as a servant in my father’s home. My father had an affair with her, and she became pregnant with me. Her name was Carterina Mensah. She was exquisite and sweet, and Alexis’s wife hated her,” she said bitterly, and then she softened her tone again. “You want to know something I’ve never told a soul, not even your father?”
Carter nodded, eager to hear more about her mother’s life.
“I know Angelo told you that my mother died during childbirth, but I wasn’t honest with him. At the time it still hurt to think about it. Would you like to hear the story?”
Carter nodded.
Anastacia began the story. “My father gave us a home because he loved Carterina and me, but my mother was poisoned when I was four. It happened while she was working in Alexis’s home. His wife killed her. When my father found out, he kept me close to him and left his family behind. I gave you my mother’s name to honor her. My father told me she was beautiful, both inside and out—the exact opposite of him. He was a killer, distrustful, and showed kindness to very few men. He walked around with a scowl on his face and a chip on his shoulder, daring anyone to mess with him. I am like my father . . .” she confessed. “My mother softened him. She had a soft heart, sad and expressive eyes, and a strong will. I wanted you to be like her, Carterina, so I gave you her name.” Anastacia smiled at Carter. “You are very complex, my child. This surprised your father and me very much. You have my mother’s warmth, soft heart, and expressive eyes . . .but as soon as your father pissed you off . . .”—Anastacia snapped her fingers—“Just like that, you were like my father. You stalked around the house with scowl on your little face, daring Robert to mess with you. You are very much like your grandfather in that way. He had this . . . air of royalty about him. His family, the Stone’s, we are all this way—including yourself.”
Carter couldn’t help but smile at that.
“The Stone family was a well-known, wealthy, blue-blood family in France. My father was the oldest son and entrusted to be the family’s keeper when his father died. He did so, all while keeping his father’s dark secrets.
“So do I have any family?” Carter asked.
Anastacia sighed and shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid we are the outcasts, baby girl. I have never even heard of my mother’s family, and my father’s family is toxic. They only care about money that doesn’t belong to them. It’s just you and me against the world, sweetheart. This is what I meant when I told that you are all I have . . .”
Carter stared at her mother, trying to figure out what her next move should be. Her mother stared back at her as if she could read every thought passing through Carter’s mind. Carter didn’t like that. Her father used to stare at her in the same way, and he always seemed to know what she was thinking. Carter didn’t want Anastacia to know what she was thinking, what she was feeling—but it was too difficult to hide anything today. Too much was happening.
Carter took a deep breath and sighed. “Say I’m curious . . . That I’d like to, maybe, get to know you and try this whole mother-daughter thing . . .”
Anastacia arched an eyebrow. “Maybe?”
“Yes, maybe.” Carter slouched in her seat and crossed her arms over her chest. She looked away from her mother. “I still don’t trust you,” Carter said in bitter truthfulness. “I don’t know if you’ll disappear tomorrow . . .”
Anastacia’s jaw tightened in irritation. “Carter . . .”
“You left me before. How do I know you won’t leave me again, Anastacia?”
“I told you—I didn’t leave by choice,” she said through clenched teeth.
“I still don’t know why you left me,” Carter reminded her.
“That explanation will come, but not today. You are still recovering. I will not overwhelm you with too much.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” Carter yelled.
“You’re my child! That’s how you know!” Anastacia snapped, anger and irritation now showing in her features.
Carter immediately became silent.
“You’re not stupid, Carter. You know when someone’s lying to you. You’re a genius, for Christ’s sake! Picking up on a lie is easy. You are only at your weakest when you’re vulnerable, and you are not vulnerable right now.”
Carter frowned. One, she didn’t think she was a genius. She had been isolated with no life and no friends—home school was all she’d had. That was the only reason why she’d achieved all she had academically before the age of sixteen. It was because she had nothing else to do. Two, Anastacia had no way of knowing if Carter was vulnerable or not.
“I could be vulnerable,” Carter mumbled under her breath.
“You aren’t,” Anastacia said sharply. “What you are doing is irritating me . . .”
Carter looked at her mother in outrage. Irritating her? “What could I have possibly done to irritate you?” Carter asked in a clipped tone.
Anastacia proceeded to list everything Carter was doing wrong. Carter hadn’t experienced this treatment since her father was alive. “You’re slouching, pouting, avoiding eye contact, fidgeting, mumbling, and answering questions with a nod or a shake of your head and not with words. You’re crossing your arms like a spoiled brat and repeatedly refusing to just get to the point.”
“What point?”
“Trying to decide where we go from here!” Anastacia sat up in her seat and placed her glass of wine on the table. “We could sit here all day, arguing and debating why I had to do what I did, but I don’t have the patience for it. I will not take back what I said. We will move at your pace, as long as we’re moving. I make that one allowance. But I still have rules, Carterina. I know you’re still getting to know me, but like I said, I know you very well—better than you know yourself. So I cannot tolerate you treating me like a stranger instead of the woman that gave you life. I am your mother, and from this moment forward, I feel you should address me as such—Mother, Mommy, Maman. I am not Anastacia to you, and for that you should be very grateful. I am not some weak pathetic woman who would abandon her child after bringing her into the world. Everything that I have done since the day that you were born has been to protect you.” Anastacia sighed and softened her voice. “Carterina, I wasn’t there the night your father was . . .”—she shifted uncomfortably—“ . . . but I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying whether you want me to or not, so I suggest you embrace it, and let’s just try. Please . . . For your father’s sake.” She sat and waited for Carter’s response.
Carter’s jaw clenched. She really wanted yell and kick and scream and fight like hell with Anastacia, but she refused to prove her right about her being a brat. Pulling herself together quickly, she sat up straight in her seat and looked directly at her mother.
Anastacia laughed softly. “Still stub
born, I see. You want to throw a temper tantrum, don’t you? But you won’t let yourself. You don’t want to prove me right.
Carter fought hard against her temper. Don’t lose it, don’t lose it . . .
Carter took a deep breath and pasted a fake smile on her face. “You’re right, Mama. We should give this a try for Father’s sake.”
Anastacia stared at her blankly before speaking again. “Just for your father’s sake?” she asked softly.
Carter saw a million different emotions flash through Anastacia’s eyes. Her brows furrowed. “Isn’t that what you said?” Carter asked, confused by Anastacia’s question.
Anastacia groaned and buried her face in her palms. “I can’t do this,” she muttered. Then she looked at Carter with a pained expression. “I can’t do this to you. I’m supposed to do right by you, and it isn’t right to force you to do this just because I’m a selfish, impatient bitch. Your father was better at this,” she muttered.
That was when something that felt like fear rushed through Carter’s body. But it couldn’t be fear. “Can’t do what to me?” she asked cautiously. She was afraid to hear the answer.
“I can’t force this.” Anastacia stood up from the table. “I’ll never really have what I want with you unless I let you decide.” She sighed. “I’ll do as you wish. I’ll go . . .”
What replaced the fear she’d just been feeling made Carter wish she was still only afraid. Grief—grief more intense than anything she’d ever felt in her life overtook her entire being. Carter felt her heart rate pick up and tears stinging her eyes “You’re leaving?” Carter asked, hating that she even cared. Her weakness made her want to slap herself to snap out of it.
Dangerous Beauty: Part Two: A Mafia Princess Page 9
