Celeste;
"My entire body is aching!" I groan. With the earpiece still connected, I'm sure Angelo hears me perfectly.
"Oh wow, and I thought you'd love the princess treatment," he jests, his laughter adding to my barely kept-at-bay annoyance.
"I'm going to shove my fingers up your nose next time I see you," I threaten, meaning every word.
He doesn't say a thing. And I fill up the quiet by looking around and admiring my bedroom.
The silver curtain drapes, flashy glass wardrobes, a queen-size bed that spans a whole lot of space at one corner…floral yellow beddings, and a cute dresser.
"Tch," I scoff, just in time to hear Angelo's low speech.
"How long will that be?"
The sound of my fur slippers mutes against the rug, and I sit on the bed, almost groaning from its plush feeling.
"I don't know yet," I reply absentmindedly.
Truthfully, I really don't know how long I'll have to spend in the enemy's territory. But hopefully enough time to get what I'm here for done.
Now that I'm here, inside, it shouldn't take me long to find where the Vault is hidden. And as for my revenge, static pulses beneath my skin at the thought of it.
"Hope is not a long time, though," Angelo's voice comes off grim from the comms.
I squint. "Don't tell me you're brooding, big man."
"Hell no," he refutes my tease.
And I laugh, his laughter flowing after.
"We can't talk like this all the time," I tell him after our laughter dies down. "They took my clothes to discard, and luckily, I had the foresight to hide the earpiece in my hair."
The housekeepers Romano said would take care of me almost gave me a body bath… if I didn't forcibly insist that I could do it on my own, I don't know what would have happened.
"You're right. They must be keeping tabs on you," he warns.
"Yeah, and I'm afraid I need to throw this away."
He understands what I mean. Throwing it away would mean cutting my communication to the Organization.
Just when my lips part to speak, a knock rings at the door.
I jolt, my eyes flying wide and everything in my body going still.
Letting my hair down, I arrange my bangs, making sure my ears are completely covered, then I stutter, "C-come in."
A fake-ass smile spreads across my cheeks when I see him enter. "Hi."
"Hi. Ready?" Romano reciprocates with what I'm sure is a fake-ass smile of his own too.
Lips pressed together, I nod, breathing out loud before going audible. "Yes."
"Great." He steps in, long legs eating up the distance. "Before we go down, I think we have to set some things in place." His tongue peeks out between his lips, swiping swiftly against the lower one.
Doe-eyed, I simply look at him, waiting to hear more of what he has to say.
"Our union. Though we agreed to get married, it's solely a business transaction," he informs, that thick accent of his, accentuating his seriousness.
"You get the protection and care you need, and I get ownership of your share of your father's territories and properties."
"Yes. I know." Affirming softly, I bob my head to go along.
A muscle jumps on the left side of his face. "Good. I'll draft up a legal contract soon. It'll be delivered to you in a few days."
"Okay," is all I can say. But my insides are jumping and bubbling with anxious terror.
"Okay," he repeats after me. "Let's go down for dinner." His smile returns.
Romano extends his palm to me. I look up at him before taking it and letting him lead me downstairs.
Downstairs, a huge dining table sits at the center of the dining room. Four tufted chairs surround it in lengthwise gaps.
Wafts of savory scents of delicious delicacies float in the air.
It looks nothing like a family setting if you ask me.
At the head of the table—
My breath ceases as my gaze falls on the figure seated there, his aura regal and commanding. Suffocating in its own right.
My blood boils underneath my skin, horror filling my lungs at the influx of unwanted memories slamming into me at once.
It's him. He was there…he killed them.
My fist folds in, knuckles whitening with the pressure. Anger burns in my chest.
I don't even know that I've stopped. Not until Romano's voice anchors me to reality.
"Are you okay?" he gently shakes me.
Snapping with a jolt, I tilt to face him, blinking uncontrollably. Sweat beads on my temples already.
I lie through a forced smile. "Oh… I, yes. Yes, I'm fine."
He's skeptical but nods regardless. "Come." He gently takes my hand and wraps it around his forearm, while I just follow.
"Father," Romano greets, earning us the man's attention as he pulls away from whatever information has his features twisted in the tablet he sets aside.
"Lovely," he grins, and goosebumps pebble my skin.
Romano goes to pull out a seat for me, and I lower into it, mouthing a "Thank you."
And he softly pats my head like he did when we arrived.
His father watches the whole interaction.
"And who do we have here?"
Seated, Romano smiles. One side of his cheek dents deep with a dimple I just noticed. "Meet Celeste Montagna, Father. Galo Montagna's daughter."
Don Ruggiero's brows furrow. "Galo Montagna?" he questions, and Romano affirms. "Good gracious, I knew your father…it's a rare pleasure to actually see his daughter." He directs his gaze at me.
Willing every muscle in my body to move, I bow my head. "The pleasure is mine, sir."
"I'm terribly sorry for what befell your family, child. That should never happen to anyone."
My throat burns with something acidic. I swallow, choosing silence while I nod instead.
"You've heard what happened?" Romano looks surprised. It seems he hasn't had the discussion with his father yet.
Great. I get to witness it.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"News travels fast, son," Ruggiero chuckles.
Before he gets to emphasize further—
Booted footsteps slap against the floor, the aura in the room shifting and morphing into something…gloomy.
And when I cast my gaze to the entrance, I nearly choke on my saliva. The sight of the figure approaching knocks the air out of my lungs for the second time.
Everything comes to a standstill…or is it just me?
He takes his seat on the other side of the table. Alone. "Father," his voice still makes my bones chill.
"You're late," Ruggiero tells him.
"I know. I had some things to deal with." His eyes flit to his brother, and then to me by his side. And I suck in a generous amount of breath.
Romano clears his throat as he notices. "This is Celeste. Montagna's last daughter."
While my heartbeat is performing a riot in my chest, he's deathly silent.
"You must have heard. Galo's gone missing, and so has his entire household." He looks at me. "I found her in hiding, and she saved my life."
The smile he flashes me is supposed to be heart-fluttering, but I don't feel like I can perfect a blush right now, so I just manage a weak, shaky one.
"That's bullshit," Caruso spits, eyes fixed on me.
As though he can see through me.
My lower back drips with beads of sweat, my stomach clenching.
"Caruso," Romano warns.
The tension between the brothers is electrifying as they exchange glares.
Caruso Giordano is expressionless. Apathetic.
Meanwhile, I sit and observe the family's dynamic. The tension bubbles for seconds. And it doesn't take long before Caruso's gaze travels back to me.
And I flinch.
Does he…remember? Did he see my face?
My mind is at constant war.
Thankfully, the tense atmosphere breaks when a flurry of servants stroll in, pushing a food cart in with what I suppose is meant to be the main dish.
The server, too scared to approach Caruso's side of the table, chooses the lesser of two evils—mine and Romano's.
"Hello, Mia Cara. It's a pleasure to have you over," he says, and a sincere smile blooms across my cheeks as I struggle to ignore Caruso's fixed gaze on me.
The server drones on and on about the cuisines, with little compliments of me here and there, earning giggles and 'thank yous' from me.
A spontaneous, jarring bang erupts in the air.
All of a sudden, the server's body drops lifeless to the ground. A bullet lodges in his forehead, with blood pooling beneath it.
My fingers fly to my lips.
Gasps and muffled screams echo from the other servants.
Slowly, I turn toward the direction of the sound.
Caruso casually lowers his gun. Resuming his impossibly tall height, he looks at Romano. "At least be possessive of your wife-to-be."
He drags on the 'wife' like it's a disgusting word not worth being on his tongue.
His glare clashes with mine again—I glimpse something dark and feral—and just like that, Caruso Giordano strolls out of the dining room.
After he buries a bullet in someone's brain for flirting with me.