Rebecca Downhill (Becca) has known nothing in her life but a strict father who is involved in businesses with the Italian mafia in NY, an absent mother who has taught her to be obedient and fulfill her duties towards the family, and a twelve years o...
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Next to him, I can see a young woman standing, wearing a black long gown, and from time to time his hand slides gently on her smaller back.
Her naturally curly hair moves like silk every time she shakes her head in the conversation they have.
He looks so different still, so damn handsome, wrapped in that stylish suit like a second skin on his toned body, in an ink blue color which I'm sure makes his eyes sparkle like the sunny sky.
He seems stronger, much stronger, with wider shoulders and thicker arms. One could have never believed he was slummed in a coma barely over six months ago.
His hair is now long enough to be tied up in a bun, and some rebel strands of hair fall on his forehead.
The black stubble shaping his jaws so perfectly makes him look rebellious, just like deep down he is but never has dared to live by it, freely and unbounded by any restrictions. Or maybe he has never had the chance to.
My hands start shaking and I gasp a full breath of air and then I freeze the moment his head turns to his right, meeting my shocked eyes which now swim in a pool of tears.
How the hell he can make me feel so many different sensations in a matter of seconds?
And like forever since I've known him, I feel a whirlpool of emotions building up in my stomach and I love that feeling like all the other feelings he inflicts on me.
That moment over there seemed an eternity for us, both rooted to our spot, overwhelmed by our encounter.
I mentally shout to myself to leave, to run away, but my body doesn't listen. "Run, Becca! Run!" I keep telling myself, but I'm trapped in his stare, and he seems rooted to the ground just as I am, but not for long because the moment I finally manage to take a step back I see him moving towards me.
A hand on my smaller back burns my skin through the fabric of my dress, turning me around and grabbing my arm to pull me away from there through the crowd of people that seems to have stayed in our way.
I can see the back of a tall man pulling me in a rush toward one of the exits.
I don't care who he is. I'm just grateful that someone is taking me out of there.
It's not Mike and surely it's not Lucas either because turning my head around from time to time I can see him following me, making himself room through the crowd of people and I even hear him calling my name when I dare to lock my eyes with his.
My feet move so fast that I'm barely touching the ground, but I'm not stopping.
I'm only grateful for the help I get from the stranger holding tight my hand, and when we reach some doors, he grabs the handle to open one and pushes me inside.
I turn around towards my savior and I gasp in horror, recognizing him.
Salvatore grins at me maliciously, strolling towards me like a beast to his prey.
