LOGIN“You are an interesting woman,” he says finally, as though he has been collecting sentiments about me like curiosities. “I am not for your amusement,” I say. “Amusement is a generous way of putting it.” He turns his face to me and finally, which is nothing like mercy, he kisses me. It is a small t
“You will come with me tonight,” he says suddenly, and when I look at him the certainty in his eyes is a rope. “Where are we going?” I ask. I do not like the sound of my own voice in the dark halls. “To the club,” he says, as if the clubs he owns are nothing more than rooms he has arranged for his
The dinner goes on without ceremony. I wear a dress that fits like a promise and is less comfortable than anything else I own. The woman who dresses me fusses at the strap and at the hem with an intimacy that is practiced, like a ritual done daily for decades. The room where dinner is served is a pl
“You should not have broken a tray,” he says in that voice that is silk wrapped around steel. It makes everyone quiet because it is a voice that is treated like currency in this house. The words are simple but the way he says them says a thousand more complicated things. He is not angry the way I am
I come back from the memory to find sunlight in my eyes and orange juice dried on the carpet like the outline of a wound. My hands are trembling now for reasons I cannot name. The house clock in the hall ticks the way a heart does when it is being measured. There are noises behind the walls, small h
Oh God, I hate him. He is the center of everything I cannot control in this place. He is the reason doors close and keys rattle and the nights feel like traps. He is the reason my throat tastes like metal at dusk. He is also the reason, absurdly and against my every better judgment, that sometimes
~~AURELIA~~ Opening my eyes for the first time in a long time (at least that’s how it feels in my head.), i take in the dim bedroom, the white chandelier swinging slightly on light red ceiling. It takes a while for my eyes to adjust to the hue of the chandelier to realize that it’s glass and the
~~RAFAELE~~ “We fucked—but that’s not the entire reason I approved her allegiance.” He tips the now‑empty pitcher, a low groan escaping his throat when he realizes it’s dry. I don’t give a flying fuck whether he fucked Estela or not. “You’re a real bore, son,” he mutters. “You still haven’t answ
~~RAFAELE~~ “We need to talk” i muttered lightly across the dark oak desk of my study. Gaetano’s response was with a sly nod and pale hands gripping the pitcher of blood from across the table. How better to converse with some refreshments… he seemed to enjoy it though. “You look miserable Son” h
~~RAFAELE~~ The heel of my pistol glints under the chandelier in my study as I lift the wine glass and sip blood that tastes like old milk. It should dull me. It does nothing. “Don Rafaele?” Matteo calls from outside the door. “What is it?” “It’s Petra, boss. She’s—” “Let her in,” I wave, and s







