A Dance With Hades

Chapter 39 | Bleeding Palm

NYX MANSON

THE URGE TO kill Paula is unavoidable at this point. I never thought I’d dislike someone so quickly and easily, but Paula did that within a few text messages.

She talks to her own child like he doesn’t matter. She’s clearly not a good mother and is the sore loser, jealous baby mama no one likes.

I really don’t like that woman.

“Amore...” I look up at Vincenzo through the mirror and continue with trying to tie my braids up in a ponytail. “Paula–“

“If you are trying to talk me out of going to talk to her, then you are wasting your breath,” I cut him off firmly.

He smiles a little, and he grabs a hold of my hands. He pulls the scrunchie from my hand and gently pulls my braids as he pulls them into a ponytail. “Thank you,” I whisper once he’s done tying my hair.

“I’m not trying to talk you out of it,” he whispers. “I just wanted to say Paula has a weak left and right hook,” he laughs, and I  smile at him. His hands come down to my waist, and I lean my head back against his chest. “How are you feeling?” He asks gently.

I know what he’s talking about, and it feels good to know he cares that much about me, but I would prefer if we talked about it at a later. I sigh while turning my head to the side.

Giving him a small smile, I mutter, “I’m fine.”

He nods while slipping his warm hands up my shirt. His head comes down to my shoulder, and he drags my body closer to his. “Just know you’re beautiful to me, and that’s what matters, bella.”

“Thank you,” I hum, and he nods. “How was work earlier?”

He shrugs. “We were discussing some function–“

“What function?”

He lightly chuckles at how enthusiastic I sound. “It’s an annual ball,” he says. “My mother and aunt want you to help with a few things.”

“Sounds like fun,” I say with a small smile.

Spending some time with Aurora and Loredana would be good for me. I want to know Vincenzo from someone who has seen him through every phase of his life.I want to know everything there is about the Don of the Sicilian Mafia, the man who is a merciless killer, the man I go to sleep with every night, the man I let do unspeakable things to me, the man who makes me feel every emotion.

Vincenzo Giorgio Martinelli, the man I want to spend the rest of my life with.

“When is this ball?”

“In a week’s time,” he answers. “It’s kind of a big deal.”

I lift a brow. “What’s it about exactly?” I hold his hands and bring them down to the front of my stomach.

“Just an event where all the people who I have formed alliances with, and even some of my enemies, come to talk about business and form new bonds or fix old bonds over a glass or two of good whiskey.”

“Sounds more like a business meeting than a ball,” I snort.

He kisses my neck. “Well, there’s dancing, food, people dressed in flashy attire, so I don’t think that sounds like a business meeting,” he defends.