Rosalie Reed, a woman with everything. She's famous, rich, beautiful and successful. However, she holds a deep dark secret.
She was raised in the middle of her father's business. The mafia.
The fame and fortune has gotten to her head, unable to cop...
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Rosette and I get into the hotel. She's quiet. Timid. Strange. What is she hiding?
"Why are you so quiet, Rose?" My tone is rough with a slight hint of concern.
She looks up at me, taking in my facial structure. "I'm drunk and tired."
"You're not that drunk. You're not slurring your words, you are a bit wobbly but you can still function. So tell me, Silva," I get closer to her, "why are you quiet?"
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Make up something. Do not tell him the truth. He'll stop the plan.
"Can I be honest?" I say ever so softly, trying to pull off the act.
His brows furrow immediately. "Go ahead."
I take a deep breath, about to lie out of my ass. However, I keep that smooth demeanor settled into my mind. "You know, sometimes events are just so exhausting. And when that whole talk about the party was happening, it overwhelmed me."
Believe it. Believe it. Believe it. Believe it.
"You mean to tell me that you got overwhelmed over something you do almost every month?"
Oh shit. I didn't think this through. Oh shit.
"Yeah, everything's just overwhelming right now. It's not just the party talk and all." My heart pounded in my chest. I hate lying. I hate having to pretend like you're telling the truth. It makes it even more nerve wrecking.
I keep looking at him, waiting for his response so eagerly.
He lets out a heavy breath. "Makes sense."
Thank god....
"You know, you can tell when you don't want to be there," Luciano speaks, looking me dead in the eye.
"Huh?"
He rolls his eyes, "it's obvious. You don't listen or engage in conversation willingly."
I shrug my shoulders and break eye contact. "I hide it well," I tell him, only to receive a genuine laugh from him.
"No the fuck you don't," he continues to chuckle. "You're so bad at hiding it, little rage."
"Oh shut up," I speak back to him.
He steps closer, his eyes never left mine. There's something about those deep eyes that pull you in, like the supermassive black hole in space.
You want to look away, but you can't.
You want to see what it holds, but you're scared to.
"You going to kill me, Lombardi?" I tilt my head to the side, taunting him in a way.
"I'll only kill you when you're not drunk."
His eyes stayed on my eyes...but in a millisecond, I see his eyes glance at my lips. He did it so subtly, so delicate. He knew what he was doing.
"What's wrong mia cara? Cat got your tongue?" He whispered. The rasp of his voice lingered in the air until I spoke once more.
"What am I meant to say to that? "Oh can't wait" is that what you want?" My voice was slightly high pitched, taunting him even more.
He clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "No, I just want a reaction from you." He rests his hands on the arms of the chair. His body towered me as I sat in the seat, his hands resting on the arms of the chair, almost trapping me in a way. I could smell the whiskey from his breath, he was far too close to me.
If any other man had done this, I would've punched him in the face. But, Lombardi...
"I'd rather sit on a knife than give you a reaction, Lombardi."
His face gets even closer to mine. I didn't let my mask fade, I couldn't. I can't show him that his actions are making me....react.
"Why's that, little rage?"
I keep my strong piercing gaze on him. "Why would I waste my energy on you?"
One corner of his lip shifts upwards. A devilish smirk. A dangerous movement. "That's no way to speak to your future husband, mia cara."
My brows furrow in clear confusion. "What does mia cara mean?" I pried, his smirk only grows. (My dear)
"Don't worry about it." His voice turns to a whisper. Then his eyes shift to my lips once more, he doesn't even hide it anymore. My heart pounds in my chest, as if someone was hitting it like a drum.
His lips slightly parted, looking deep at me. "Mia piccola rabbia," he whispers once more. His eyes move back to mine. However, his gaze was gentle. His tough brows furrowed softly, in what I could only describe as content. "Mia cara." (My little rage, my dear)
"Lombardi..." my voice also comes out in a mumble.
"Silva..."
However, before we got even closer...there's a knock on the door. The sound breaks the both of us out the trance of each others gaze.
He stands up, taking his hands off the armchair. He clears his throat and opens the door.
"Christian." His rough and stoic voice is back instantly.
