Chapter 2

Madeleine

The VIP room is comfortably cool, but sweat drips from my brow and soaks into my uniform. I pull at the tight skirt, aware of the many eyes on me.

Afterall, I’m not supposed to be here.

If the Sisters saw me now, dressed in this skimpy outfit, mixing with the worst sinners this world has to offer, they'd probably faint.

Goodness knows, they nearly had a collective heart attack when they found me talking to Dom alone in the garden. “You are tainting your own soul”, the sisters shouted, horrified.

Dom apologised profusely, almost clumsily, as he stuttered the words out. He swore to them that we had done nothing inappropriate - he respected me too much to do anything that would harm me or my reputation. 

Oh, how he blushed. I’d never seen any other man as genuine and kind as him. And there will be no other.

The people surrounding Rafael have their eyes on us. Our every move is being scrutinised, every word they speak is calculated. The low hum of voices is the only sound filling the air.

Rafael, veiled in shadows, gets to his feet and taps his glass with a knife. The room falls silent. “We welcome Matteo Sforza,” he announces, “and his family. We are here to discuss the dispute about the ownership of the docks.”

Rafael’s voice is calm, even. “My wish is that we can reach an agreement that is beneficial to all of us, and that we can end this night with a celebration.”

A massive man with a scarred face turns his attention to me. His dark eyes are narrow and his lips set in a thin line of disapproval.

A red-haired girl, I don’t know her name, grabs me by the elbow and pulls me away. “Don’t listen,” she whispers urgently. “They don’t like it. Just pretend you can’t hear them.

I wish I could sink into the floor and disappear. I lean in closer to the redhead. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s easy. All we have to do is bring them their drinks, and later we’ll serve them dinner. Stick with me,” the girl offers, her voice light and soothing. “You’ll do great.” She offers me a small smile, picks up a tray of drinks, and hands it to me. “Take a deep breath. It’s not as bad as it seems.”

I nod, my grip tightening around my tray as though it’s the only thing keeping me upright.

“You’ll see,” she continues, her voice warm, like we’re old friends. “They’re just men. A bit scarier than the ones you know, sure, but they don’t bite.” She winks. “Remember to smile. They'll give you bigger tips if you flirt with them a little.”

I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. She didn’t have to warn me. It’s unusual to receive kindness in this gruesome place.

I can’t quite see Rafael Andoletti’s face from where I’m standing, but his presence fills the entire room. He’s almost larger than life, the air bending around him to suit his desires.

My throat tightens as I approach the table, my tray feeling heavier with each step.

By the time I reach him, my hands are shaking so badly that I’m afraid I’ll upend the entire glass on his lap. “It’s customary to serve the don first,” the massive man sitting next to Rafael remarks brusquely.

“I- sorry, Sir,” I mutter. “It won’t happen again.”

I deliberately don’t stare at him when I put the glass down, but I feel his gaze. It's like a weight pressing down on my chest.

Remarkably, I manage to give him his drink without spilling a drop.

Mission accomplished. 

“Wait.”

The word slices through the air like a blade.

I turn slowly, my stomach dropping as I stare at the man with the scars. He holds up Rafael’s glass, his eyes fixed on the liquid, his brow furrowed.

“She’s trying to poison our don,” he snarls, his voice booming across the room.

“No!” I blurt out, panic clawing at my throat as I try not to think about the three people who died during Rafael’s last visit. “I didn’t… I didn’t touch his drink! I swear, I just took the tray-”

“You’re lying,” he snaps, stepping closer. “I personally chose every girl for tonight. I don’t remember seeing you-”

“Stop,” Rafael says, his deep melodious voice is calm, even. “Let her drink it.”

The already quiet room is somehow even more quiet. All eyes turn to him. He doesn’t raise his voice, but it carries an authority that forces everyone to pay attention to him.

I freeze, my mouth going dry. I may not know what’s going on, but even I can see that there’s something in the wine that doesn’t belong there.

It could very well be poison.

“You heard the boss,” the man repeats, shoving the glass toward me.

I purse my lips together and shake my head.

I don’t budge. I’m transfixed by Rafael. Up close, he looks oddly familiar, but before I can give it much thought, he says, “Do it.”

The scarred man reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pistol. 

The loud click-clack of the slide being pulled back echoes through the room, jarring my mind into a complete standstill.

My heart drops and tears sting my eyes. All I can think about is Betsy. I am going to die tonight, and what will become of my poor Betsy?

Two men wrestle me to the ground. My instincts kick in and I start to fight them, arms flailing against their iron grip, legs kicking against the floor, but it’s futile. One of them sits on my chest, pinning my shoulders to the floor with his knees.

The burly man on my chest takes the drink from the scarred man, and with a maniacal grin, he pinches my nose shut, forcing me to open my mouth so I can breathe.

He immediately pours the wine down my throat. I start to spit it out, but then I feel the cold steel barrel of a gun against my temple. “Swallow it,” Rafael orders is that same, calm tone. “Or Enzo here will blow your brains out.”

My throat locks up, then it opens - maybe it’s not death being poured down my neck.

I swallow as much of the wine as I can manage. Some of it dribbles out of my mouth and runs down my cheeks, pooling in my ears. They don’t stop until the glass is completely empty.

The liquid burns as it slides down my throat, an odd heat spread through my chest. I struggle to breathe and my limbs go heavy.

The man sitting on my chest lets me go. The onlookers laugh at me. “That’ll teach a whore, all right,” someone says.

“Don’t mess with Rafael Andoletti,” another offers an opinion.

My head starts spinning, and I blindly grab at something, anything, to hold onto. It hurts. Everything hurts. Whatever was in that wine is working. Fast.

I feel his presence before I see him, his footsteps deliberate, unhurried. He crouches next to me. A strong, warm hand grips my chin, firm but not cruel, tilting my head in his direction.

I blink up at him, my vision blurring.

NO. Wait. It’s impossible. It’s HIM. 

DOM.

It can’t be. The man I met all those years ago was kind. Generous. 

How can this monster be my Dom?

For a moment, I forget where I am. I forget the fear and the pain. All I can see is him - his sharp features, the dark intensity of his gaze. 

The indifference vanishes from his eyes as we stare at each other, and there’s a brief moment of recognition in his irises.

He’s still just as handsome as I remember. The thought drifts through my mind, strange and detached, as the world tilts around me.

His lips move as he continues staring at me. I might be hallucinating, yet I’m sure I hear him ask, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

And then everything simply blinks out of existence.