Arlari’s POVSeventy-two hours.That was the time he had given me to “prepare myself.” Now the countdown was finished, and I am here.The house towers above me. It is elegant, but not in a gentle way. My suitcases felt incredibly heavy in my hand.On cue, the doors sweep open. A butler steps out and takes the suitcases from my hand without a word. At the gates, the Don's men linger, posted like gargoyles in black jackets, their hands never stayed far from their weapons.They watch me without blinking, and I know that if I bolt, I won’t make it past the driveway. I fight the sudden, childish urge to chew my nails down to the skin.°°°“Don Cortez is in his office,” he says, as we finally get inside. “He instructed you to wait for him there.”I nod, stiffly.But then he pauses, as if remembering something. His gaze wanders to my clothes, my jeans and rumpled shirt, the ones I’ve been sweating in since the drive.“You are to freshen up first,” he says. “You will have a change of outfit.
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