Digging graves is probably the very last thing I had expected to do in this life, yet here I am, digging the graves of my parents.
There isn’t time to hire anyone to do it or even prepare a funeral service. Serafino’s men could return without warning to seize the property, and I wouldn’t want to be caught here. Luca explained to me earlier that it’s the most probable reason why Dante changed his plan and came with us, just in case the Regis goons return.
Would they really come back? I figured Dante hasn’t completely finished dealing with Serafino yet if he’s worried about that.
It hasn’t been a full twenty-four hours since my parents died but I’m pretty sure the news has spread already.
“You’re to stay here until Dante gives further orders. Feel free to roam the main house, but don’t leave. Find Killian if you need anything.” Those were the last words I heard from Luca before he left to God knows where. It’s been two days since then and I haven’t heard from him or Dante since. I’ve taken the liberty to get familiar with the huge mansion. The D’Angelo estate isn’t a mansion or a couple of buildings put together, but a whole expanse of vast land. It’s so big that it might take a few hours just to walk around the perimeter. It consists of the main house-- where I’ve been provided a room; the stables; the garage; and the open yard. At least those were what I could see from the second-floor terrace. I haven’t really left the house since I’m
“Jean?” My mother’s voice rings clear in my ears even as she strides toward me. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be back!” Looking around, the house seems to be in quite a fuss. Hired men are running back and forth lugging around suitcases and boxes, my father running with them. “What’s going on, Mom? Are we moving?” My mom clasps my face in both of her hands, “God, my dear Jean. You shouldn’t be here.” Confused and starting to get extremely annoyed that she won’t answer my questions, I ask. “What’s going on, Mom? You told me to come back, remember? I got your message.” “No,” Her voice is barely above a whisper but I hear the pain in it. My mom sways and I reach out a hand just in time to cat
“Are you serious?” Fucking ridiculous. I’ve been summoned early in the next day for this crap? “Why would you think I’m not?” But he can’t be. “You want me to marry you?” I ask as I wave the marriage registration papers he had handed to me when I walked in. From the corner of my eye, I see Luca standing beside Dante fighting a grin. It makes me want to walk over there and smack him across the face. “Simply put, yes. I’m cashing in the favor you owe me. Fo
“Alright,” Dante seems pleased with how our signing went. But honestly, he would have gotten the same results one way or another because as things are, I’m completely his to do as he wants. This signing is a mere formality and a chance to explain his plan to me. At the very least, I feel grateful for that. Dante fishes for a black fountain pen from somewhere on his body. It looks fancy, with its gold linings and intricate design. It must cost a lot too. I assume it’s a gift or an heirloom. Using his fancy pen, he signs his name at the bottom of the page. “Who else knows?” I ask when he has handed the document to Luca, who puts it away together with
“Good girl.” Dante’s words haven’t left my mind since he has spoken them. What the hell was that? And why am I blushing over it? I shake my head violently to get rid of the thought as I walk down the long hall back to my room. I haven’t been here long but after being in Dante’s cold office for that long, I miss the little comfort my room has provided. As I round the corner, I spot Hana and another woman waiting at the top of the stairs to the second floor. I smile at Hana, seeing a familiar face can indeed make someone feel better. After the talk with Dante and Luca, I’m spent. “Hana,” I call out, and she brightens up when she sees me. “What are you doing here?”
“It seems the meeting has fried your brain if you managed to sleep the day away.” Someone’s deep voice wakes me from my slumber. Wait, something isn’t right. I sit up with a start, suddenly feeling nauseous with the sudden movement. It takes my eyes a few breathes to adjust, but sure enough, Dante is in my room, arms crossed, lazily leaning against the table directly opposite my bed. He’s starting right at me with those intense eyes, making me self-conscious. Was he watching me sleep? “Pervert,” I mutter, earning myself a raised eyebrow from him. “How long have you been standing there?” I clutch the blanket closer to my chest thankful that this time I’
“Wait, what are you doing in here? Get out!” I all but throw my shoe in Dante’s direction to get him to leave. Holding the gown tightly to my body, I try very hard not to let the halter slip from my fingers. I was trying to fasten the halter around my neck when Dante suddenly poked his head in the walk-in closet. He seems unfazed and crosses the small space between us. “This is my closet too,” He says matter-of-factly. As Dante moves towards where his shoes are, I use to opportunity to hurry outside the dressing room and into the bedroom. Why is he even here? I remember staying up late a few nights ago, waiting for him to return and discuss our sleeping arrangements. Yes, I have been worried about sleeping in the same bed as him, but we never really got to talk about it because he never comes into this room. Each night, I’d stay
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