𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 -
Intricate and witty, her life has twisted upside down after her father's past scarred his family. At the young age of twenty, Violet is informed that eight years ago, she was promised to marry a Mafia Don's son by h...
SLOW DOWN - CHASE ATLANTIC "buried in the pillow, yeah you're so loud."
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Rita had settled us into one of the many bedrooms upstairs, located just beside the master bedroom, roughly fifteen minutes ago. She made sure to provide us with towels, robes, and hot camomile tea, before she informed us that she'd be taking off soon.
In the time since, I had stripped from the rain soaked dress that I wore, and changed into one of the thick and expensive robes, with nothing else under. However, Dominic didn't do the same, and his shirt had become see-through as it plastered to his skin.
"Is this where you grew up?" I took a look around the room.
The furniture was brand new, carefully selected to compliment the warm color scheme that radiated both comfort and elegance. Plush sofas and armchairs were upholstered in soft, cream colored fabrics, while throw pillows in shades of burnt orange and terracotta provided accents of vibrancy. Full bookshelves were placed strategically around the room, making it seem fuller than it really was.
The bed was large; it's frame a deep oak colour and carefully carved, with a quilted pattern of bedding that paid homage to traditional Italian craftsmanship.
Despite the room's luxurious furnishings and inviting color scheme, there was still a sense of emptiness, as if it were patiently waiting for the personal touches.
"I moved here when I was ten, but this was my bedroom," Dominic said dryly, pulling me out of thought.
"Really?" I asked, somewhat surprised.
"There's nearly nothing of mine left though. Celeste had nearly the whole house redone after I moved out. The only things left of mine are a few books and frames."
My eyes sparked at the mention of books. They were his?
I walked over to where he stood, leaning his shoulder against one of the three tall bookshelves. They were all filled from bottom to top, untouched and coated with dust.
"That's a lot of books."
He nodded carefully. "I liked to read."
"You don't anymore?"
"I don't have the time for it. I have other responsibilities."
"Not right now, you don't." A small smile played on my lips while I scanned the full bookshelf of classic literature beside us. He had close to everything; Shakespeare, Brontë, Orwell, Dickens, you name it.
