As I trailed behind Valentino, I mimicked the fluidity of a wraith, barely perceptible yet faithfully trailing his every move. We traversed past lingering figures, stationed like sentinels along the halls, their presence evoking an air of regality. Each one bestowed a subtle nod upon Valentino, acknowledging his status, while my own presence went unnoticed, like a ghostly apparition in the periphery. Seizing the moment, I took the opportunity to keenly observe my surroundings, soaking in every detail with silent vigilance.
The floor gleamed and glistened under the soft glow of golden ornate chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling painted black. The floor was a clean sunkissed swirl of luxurious honeyed amber-like molted gold captured in stone. The black floor danced in a hint of white and pure charcoal black engraved in its golden marble texture. The walls were a deep midnight obsidian color, as portraits of a family adorned the walls. The portraits had an auriferous tinted Victorian frame, filigreed in embellished florals, leaves, and vines, elegantly crafted to perfection. The windows stared out into the incandescent sunset, illuminating in hues of carmine. The crowns of the trees embrace the setting sun.
As I was perusing the surroundings, I hadn't discerned the abrupt halt, and so I collided with Valentino. He was like a tinted window, you couldn't miss it yet couldn't see through it. My head bounced off his tall masculine figure. I swiftly smoothed my curls as they tousled with the sudden impact. I pecked up at Valentino, as his face portrayed a large irksome scowl across his face. I stepped to the side of Valentino, desiring to see why a large man ,like himself, had stopped dead in his tracks. Past his enormous figure, was a man who blocked our tracks. The man was dressed in a simple sapphire-colored suit with a black handkerchief in the pocket. He was a white man with a fading grey tinted beard, gel-slick straightened jet black hair.
"Perché, tu trascuri le tue stesse regole per lei, Capo!(Why do you disregard your own rules for her)" The man snarled through half-gritted teeth. He was practically shaking in anger like a roaring volcano threatening to erupt. His hands were locked in fists as vines displayed cerulean and verdant colors. He gazed exquisitely into Valentino's abysmal eyes. Valentino glared at the man as if he was a second thought in a sea of priorities. In contrast to the man painted in seething anger, Valentino was seething in pure annoyance. It felt reminiscent of a classic cowboy standoff: the intense gaze, the silence as one other's hands hovered over their guns, the sweet zephyr as the sound of a gunshot sang like a chiming bell.
"The architect of rules, Marcus, holds the power to shatter the very foundations he once laid. Non ho alcun obbligo di chiarire le mie intenzioni con te, cugino (I have no obligation to elucidate my intentions to you, cousin)." Valentino spoke in a deep voice. The two stared at each other as if mastering the art of speech through their eyes. Moments felt like hours. Until Marcus finally broke eye contact looking at the ground. "My intention wasn't to disrespect you in any way, shape, or form. I I just want to fully understand, Capo." You do know she is your.." "Silence your tongue before I pluck it from your mouth." Valentino interrupted, stepping closer to Marcus. He peered down at Marcus, with malice laced in his eyes. I took a step back, which Valentino noticed. Marcus lowered his head in submission, reluctantly nodding. His lips were pressed in a line, yet his eyes illuminated with fire. However, he walked away with a ghostly tail in between his legs. Valentino stayed peering at the ghost of Marcus's figure, as his hands began to lock into balled fists.
You do know she is your... what? Am I his slave, laboring the weight of ignorance and stupidity that poisoned my body as my foot passed the doorway of Grants office. Cleaning and scrubbing the darkness of fear that cursed my bones with a black musky charcoal color. The garden of weeds, blooming in an untamed patch of shattered hearts and broken promises, all coded in the sick belief of the relief of freedom from the torment of one's mine and soul. Was I to be a slave to him, or a slave to my our self-afflicted torment. You do know she is your.. problem. I am his problem. A problem that multiplies from the fish in the sea, to the disciples of Jesus, to the molecule in the air, and down to the blood vessels in my body. A problem that has no beginning and will never find an end. A problem that remains untouched like a cold case, because of fear of multiplication and the act of responsibility. I was a problem he was going to grow tired of dealing with and he will throw me away, like a forgotten toy Christmas Day. You do know she is your.. what? What am I to you, Valentino, that you curl your hand into fist, to deny your burning desire to destroy. What am I to you, that you haven't kill me yet instead lead me on an expedition through your colossal mansion that a high tormented scream echoes from everyone dark corner. You do know she is your..? Who am I to you, Valentino?
YOU ARE READING
Kismet Kiss
Romancekis·met • to destiny; fate. After the tragic loss of her beloved father, Clementine believed that love would forever elude her grasp. She felt as though the weight of her loneliness would consume her, leaving her drowning in a sea of emptiness. Lit...
