Lily Jenkins
The morning hit me in the head. My curtains were open, showcasing the sunrise beautifully. For a moment, I wasn't in Sicily.
I was not anywhere. I was just...there, watching the sunset, and my heart was still and unafraid and innocent.
Till life sneaked up at me and the tension returned to my shoulders. I could not remember the last time I had been at ease.
I sat up. My head hurt, but not a lot. Not as much as I was expecting, anyway.
I dragged myself out of the bed and to the adjoining, ridiculously large bathroom. Everything in this house screamed wealth.
I did briefly wonder why Dante didn't live in a mansion like the Marchetti assholes.
I showered slowly. I felt drained after yesterday. Dining with him had made me feel as if he were human and yes, I was aware that he was, yet it made me feel uneasy. This whole situation was uneasy. He had killed my father.
My fingers paused their work on my hair.
He had killed my father. Why hadn't I asked him about that?
Pietro was an awful man, but wasn't the Mafia all about awful men? I wondered what he did to piss his capos off.
I walked out of the bathroom after squeezing the water out of my hair and tying it up in the softest towel I could find. I dressed myself in sweatpants and a sweatshirt - both different shades of blue.
I threw myself back on my bed, too drained to go out and face him. Maybe he was gone. He was gone yesterday, too. He had left breakfast which I, at the time, thought someone else made.
But he had.
He was a great cook. He moved in the kitchen like he spent hours there. Maybe he did. Watching him in the kitchen had humaized him more.
I rolled to my back, staring up at the blank ceiling. The house was as beautiful as it felt empty. Like something precious had departed it, and now it lay waiting for its return.
I reached for my laptop, writing a paragraph and then deleting it. This was my everyday routine now. I haunted myself with my failures.
A knock sounded on the wooden door exactly when my phone displayed nine, and was followed by his neutral voice. "Breakfast, Blue."
Blue.
Over the years, maybe people had called me Blue but it sounded different form his mouth. Maybe because I didn't know him.
Yes, I decided. That was probably it.
I opened the door and Dante, dressed in a suit, looked down at me. He smelled of pancakes.
"Come on," he said and then marched towards the kitchen with me following him. We ate breakfast in silence. He was on his phone, looking to be reading something, while I ate and then picked the skin around my fingernails.
When he noticed that I was done, he quietly slid a card towards me. "There is a party in a week," he said. "You will accompany me."
I frowned. "What?"
"I don't like repeating myself, Blue. Take the card. My driver will take you to a boutique. I have arranged everything, it will be safe."
I drummed my fingers on the table. "The deal was that I'd stay in your house, not go to parties with you."
"I know," he said. "You do have an option, of course. You can say no "
"Why do you say it like that?'
"Like what?" He frowned.
"You order me to do something and when I say no you say I can say no - it's confusing."
"You always have an option, Blue," he said. "I am not used to...giving options."
Of course. That annoyingly made sense.
I sat back in my chair, eyeing him. The man was too...nothing. I couldn't read him. There was too much complexity. Everything about him felt like a giant jigsaw puzzle.
"I don't want to go to a party," I said. Partying was the last thing I wanted to do.
"Would you like to go shopping anyway?" He asked, the words surprisingly arranged like a question and not an order.
"I have money," I said, sliding the card back to him.
"I insist." He slid it back, eyes daring me to say no.
"I will spend thousands."
He chuckled, standing up. He took a step towards me and put his hands on the arm rest of the chair, looking me dead in the eye.
"Spend millions," he said. "I will be disappointed if you don't."
"I-...I don't care about disappointing you."
He hummed, cupping the back of my neck and pulling me closer in one motion. His eyes whispered on my whole face, lingering on my lips. "I know you don't," he said. "Makes you sweeter." His hand squeezed and I throbbed with need. "Be a good girl for me, Blue." His lips pressed on my temple, I almost gasped in relief at the physical touch. "I'll see you later." His lips pressed to the spot under my ear, making me gasp. Before I could say a word...
He was gone.
. . .
(1/3)
