The first moment I looked at him, I knew Ricci was a sleazebag. From the dilated pupils, down to the too-tight pants, he’s wearing. My best guess is that whatever drugs he’s on, it leaves him in a constant state of ‘horny.’
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet the new Mrs. D’Angelo.” He says reaching for my hand. A quick glance at Dante tells me that this man means business but he’s not in the least bit thrilled that Ricci is here. I extend my hand to his expecting a handshake, but I couldn’t fight the sharp inhale when he plants his wet lips on the back of my hand.
I endure the shiver that runs down my spine and I have to fight not to yank my hand back immediately.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too,” I reply meekly, not wanting to sound rude, but neither wanting to encoura
Luca escorts me out of the office and towards the ballroom leaving Dante behind after Ricci decides he did have a serious matter to discuss. I stand behind a curtain shielding the guests from view. The bustling, chattering and delightful music are lively, a complete opposite of what I’m feeling. I’m seething. Still reeling in my anger, I pace the small space provided to wait before our entrance, anything to keep my hands busy and not tear away at the embellishments of my dress. “The was one of Dante’s biggest doubters.” “Huh?” I’m not sure what Luca’s talking about right now, and honestly, I don’t think I can process anything over the anger and embarrass
“It’s yours. From now on, whatever you want, whatever you wish for, it shall be yours.” The events of last night’s party are a blur. When I woke up this morning, my head is still reeling around the fact that I’m now a gallery owner. Since I graduated with my fine arts degree and have worked for great artists and museums, I dreamed of displaying my work at my own gallery. I’ve never voiced that dream to anyone in my life because I knew that once my father retired, he would hand over the Atwood tobacco business. A business I never supported but was willing to accept anyway. It’s the business that put the Atwood name on the map, and my father was stern that the eldest would inherit and continue
“I can go by myself, you don’t have to come with me.” “But Miss, my orders never permit you to leave my sight.” Dear Lord, Adeline is such a sweetheart. Under the formal suit and tie hides a baby-faced woman, with an innocent heart, but there’s just no way I could let her go with me. “Adeline, I’m just going to try on underwear in the dressing room,” I reply, trying my best to be patient with her, despite her being unreasonable. “I highly doubt anyone would attempt an attack. If anything happens, I promise I’ll scream for you.” I add and shut the dressing room door, le
The events after that are a blur. I vaguely remember being carried to the infirmary, panting and sweating from the pain. I’m pretty sure it was Dante who met us at the door, barking orders with the doctor shuffling behind him, but after I was given the anesthesia I was out. When I woke up, I felt groggy and disoriented. The infirmary’s white light was too harsh and too bright too soon. I moan as my eyes adjust to the light. “How long was I out?” I ask nobody in particular, but I feel that I’m not alone in the room. I’m not surprised when I hear Hana’s voice reply, “Just an hour. The doctor is very skilled, she had you patched up in minutes.”
I turn around, swallowing down a moan of pain. I twisted around too fast and pulled at my wound. I bite my lip to redirect my attention to the new pain instead and started to count in my head. 1…2…3… The pain passes as I realize my time is up. The anesthetics given to me are starting to wear off. Adeline hasn’t uttered a word to defend herself, even though Dante is accusing her of betraying him. “Then investigate the matter closely,” I say in a challenge, facing Dante again. “Who’s to say she’s a plant or not? Maybe you have a rat in your walls.”
It’s the same dream. The same dialogue; the same putrid smell of blood; the same end—with a bullet to my head—and then I wake up in cold sweat, breath heavy, and heart racing. I’m tired. So tired of this. Slowly, I rise to a sitting position, the action pulling on my wound. Wincing, I check the wound, it should be time to replace my dressing. But when I raise my shirt, surprise colors my face to see the fresh gauze covering the wound. It’s been replaced in my sleep? A low hum from beside me captures my attention.
“Let go,” I tell Dante out of frustration but it was a mistake. Barely a step forward and I’m already falling on my ass. I howl in pain. “Dammit!” cursing at the pain, I clutch at my wound as if physically holding it could somehow subside the pain. Dante is at my side in a flash, “Are you okay?” he asks but I don’t have any words for him. In the next moment, he has one arm wrapped around my waist with the other under my legs, bringing me up and carrying me down the stairs. There wasn’t even time to react! He lifted me and carried me out of the room like i
“Not quite. Again.” It’s been a full half-hour of this—learning how to fall properly. When I’d asked Dante to teach me how to fight, I expected to be knocked around on my ass, but I didn’t think that’d be the only thing I’d be doing. And for what seems like the hundredth time today, I fall. Again, I feel the sharp stinging pain in my back and my butt. Rolling over, I’m glad we’re in the gym and not outside in the training yard because the firm training mats give a bit of extra protection. Dante has managed to clear the center of the gym of any equipment and had training mats laid down. Without the mats, I’m sure I’d have cracked a bone or two by now.