Draco's bride

Chapter 1

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Draco's bride is signed with Galatea. This is only an excerpt of five chapters. If you wish to read it and get a discount, you can use my Galatea code: https://read.getgalatea.com/mira20

All the best, Mira.

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“What are you doing?” My sister Lena stepped from the bedroom, brushing her sleepy eyes. She looked exactly what she was: a twenty-year-old young woman woken up after a long night of partying.

“Making dinner,” I said, rubbing the herbs into the duck I bought at the local market on my way home from work.

She came closer and looked over my shoulder.

“It smells bad.” Her nose wrinkled, and I smiled.

“Yeah, I know.” I peeled the pears, “Wait until it’s roasted with fruit, herbs, and red wine. It will be delicious.”

These were my friend's exact words who had taught me how to prepare this meal. I didn’t know if the duck would turn out well. Lately, I hadn’t eaten much meat; it had become heavy on my stomach, and I was more often skipping meat meals than having them.

This duck was meant to impress Lena’s rich boyfriend.

“Do you know what you are doing in there?” she asked, still watching me work.

“No,” I admitted, feeling defeated.

“That’s what I thought.” She snorted and moved toward the small table in the living room where we kept makeup, creams, perfumes, and other cosmetic stuff. Soaking a cotton pad with makeup remover, she cleaned the mascara from the night before.

In the mirror, I saw her panda eyes observing me.

“We planned to go out tonight. Marco hates it when I change plans. He is a very busy man.’’ She said.

I added fruit to the pan and sealed it to cook the meat first. Then, after it became tender, I would open the pan and let it develop a crunchy crust and a golden brown color.

“It’s my birthday. Marco is invited to join us. Just call him at dinner, for me.”

I didn’t look her in the eyes; my hands cleaned the kitchen counter. Lately, the atmosphere between us had been explosive. I didn’t like her relationship with that man, Marco, and she sensed it. Lena was hiding something from me, and her mood swings had become unbearable.

My eyes caught sight of the wide pajamas she was wearing, and I could swear she looked bloated and a few pounds heavier. This was strange for my tall, lean sister, who calculated every bite she ate and weighed herself every morning, even before a glass of water.

“I shouldn’t move in with you,” she murmured, rubbing her face with cream.

“I would never have come if I knew how controlling you were. Maybe there was a reason we didn’t meet sooner.”

Her words pierced my heart. I vividly remember the day my grandma woke me up and took me to the shop to buy ingredients for a cake. The strawberry cake was my favorite, but we couldn’t afford it often. It was spring, and the coastal town where we lived was slowly filling with tourists. Prices typically rose during the season, making strawberries expensive. I picked them up from the stand with my tiny fingers, eager to eat half of them, while I patiently waited for the rest to become my favorite cake.

Grandma sat me at the table, and instead of the cake, she gave me a letter.

It was the first and only letter I ever received from my mum.

I didn’t care about Mum back then. I didn’t miss her because I didn't know her.

But the picture she sent was another story.

In awe, I watched a tiny baby wrapped in a pink blanket.

“It’s your sister, Lena,” Grandma said.

“Your mum had another baby, and now you have a sister,” she repeated, unsure if I understood her well. I looked at her wrinkled face.

“When will she come?” I asked.

In my head, Mum would bring her here to live with us. I was Mum’s daughter, and I always lived with Grandma, so baby Lena would do the same, wouldn’t she? It was the only logical thing.

Grandma pushed my hair behind my ear and kissed the top of my head.

“Let’s eat the cake, little one, shall we?”

And I forgot about Lena for almost an hour, but I remembered her tomorrow, the day after, and almost every day that year. With the stubbornness of a five-year-old child, I waited for her to come.

And she eventually did, twenty years later—after Mum had died and Grandma had already moved on to a better place after a long illness.

Lena arrived when we were both alone and needed each other.

When I opened the door to my apartment that fated day, I knew who the woman in front of me was, even though we didn’t look alike. She was tall and dark, whereas I was short and blond. Five years younger than me, she seemed more worldly than I would ever be. Her clothes were expensive and well-tailored. Her heels and clutch perfectly matched, and she smelled like the strawberries on the cake I had eaten on her birthday.

“Jade,” she asked, and I nodded, feeling the first tears running down my cheeks.

It was the best day of my life.

“He’s here.” Lena stood up from the table and looked out onto the street. Sticking out like a sore thumb, a slick, expensive car was parked in front of our gloomy old building. I looked at her hands, pushed under her pajama top, forming a little tent in front of her stomach. I swallowed loudly, and the first drops of sweat erupted above my upper lip.

“Call him up. I want to meet him,” I said, feeling angry that she spent time with that man. I didnt know much about him, but the little I learned made me uneasy.

She went into her room, ignoring me.

I stood beside the oven, staring at my fancy birthday duck. I was twenty-six today and knew she would leave me for this guy, Marco, to spend my birthday alone.

And it wasn’t about the birthday. We could eat the damn duck tomorrow, and I could call my friends for dinner or go out and have fun.

It was about Marco Draco.

The spoiled rich man waiting for her leaned casually against his expensive car.

I approached the window and looked down at the street.

Living in a small Adriatic town made it impossible not to hear about the Draco family, but the extent of their secrecy was almost magical. I suspected that the elder Draco paid handsomely to the press to keep his private life under wraps. I shuddered, feeling the tiny hairs rise on my neck.

Compared to Marco Draco, his uncle was a different beast, and I couldn’t imagine Lena being welcomed into their family.

When Lena returned to the room, she fumbled with her bag, which, according to my friend Lily, cost as much as a year’s rent for this apartment.

“I will come back before ten, okay? Then we can have a late dinner and a little wine. Marco will buy the best wine for us, you and me, and we can celebrate your birthday,” she said while putting on her shoes. I didn’t want to know the price of those heels or if the diamonds on her ears were real or fake.

“Lena,” my voice boomed into the apartment louder than I planned. She froze in front of the door, grabbing for the knob but not getting outside.

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that the reason you’re avoiding bringing that man here?” I asked.

She didn’t turn to face me. Her hand and body looked like a statue.

“You must have expected more when you came to live with me. I won’t be mad. I know what this place looks like. Just tell me. Is that a problem?” I had to know.

“This is a dump, Jade. It’s the same bloody dump I lived in with Mum.” She faced me.

“You look exactly like her. It’s almost scary. She was petite and blonde, fragile. She let every man in her life use her and leave her. When you opened that door, I wanted to turn around and leave, but I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

I felt a burning sensation at the back of my throat, but I would rather poke my eyes out than cry. Tears might scare her away and chase her off, and I wanted her to stay.

She looked at me with her chin raised high and hands pressed to her hips like I was her enemy—everything she hated and tried to run from.

The move did something to her clothes, and I stumbled back a little. I should have known it. I told myself I knew it, but I was so scared of that Draco man and his intentions that I pretended it didn’t happen.

My voice came out as a whisper. “Are you pregnant, Lena?”

She turned pale as paper. Her upper lip wobbled, and before I could step toward her, she slammed the door behind her and left.

I tasted bitterness in my mouth just before the air turned foggy.

The duck! My duck was burning!

***

16. November 2024.

I hope this story reaches you in good spirits and good health. :)

I am not a native speaker, and I have never lived in an English-speaking country. This story is not professionally edited, so minor inconsistencies should be ignored. But I put a lot of energy into writing, and I hope you will find it satisfying :)