“Fuck.” I roll my eyes as I climb off the bed and head to the door. I don’t risk not checking, though. I stare through the peephole. There’s a man holding a massive parcel, so I risk opening the door. He thrusts the parcel at me and then a clipboard, followed by a pen.
“Sign here.”
He snatches the pen and the clipboard back before turning and leaving me standing there. I shake myself and step back into my room. I toss the parcel on my bed and just stare at it like it might jump up and murder me. I wait, I stare, but nothing happens, so I step forward and push the box, then jump back—fuck, my nerves are shot. I take a breath and step forward, grasping the box. I rip it open. I stare at the contents. My heart’s pounding as I frown at a garment bag, I pull it free. At the bottom of the box are a tie and a pair of shoes. I hang the bag on the back of the door. Shaking hands, reaching up to open the zip, I blow out a breath at the most beautiful suit I’ve ever seen staring back at me.
I slide my hand over the fabric and stare at it. It’s dark grey, and the softness of the fabric is breathtaking. It’s far more beautiful than the one Enzo got me last time. But why is he spending so much now? I tug the suit out of the bag. There’s a lighter grey shirt and a dark grey tie. I blow out a breath and need to pinch myself. This doesn’t mean anything other than Enzo wanting to make a good impression on Bellino.
I leave everything where it is and head to the bathroom, feeling overwhelmed and almost like I’m on a runaway train with no way to stop it or get off. The world is whizzing by, and I’m trapped.
I step under the hot water and scrub every inch of me, the bruising looking more prominent now, and the scratches scabbed over. I take care not to knock them. I don’t want to be covered in blood again. Once I step out, I glare at myself. It’s notlike I have makeup to cover any of these marks up. I rub some gel stuff into my hair and scrub my fingers into it; it’ll do.
I step into the suit and look at myself in the mirror. I feel out of place, like I’m playing dress up, and I wait for the other shoe to drop because I can feel it’s coming, and all I can do is wait.
I head downstairs to get some fresh air and wait for the driver. When I push open the doors, the wind hits me, and I stand and breathe. When I blow out the breath, the car is just pulling up, and before I make it to the back door, the driver is already opening it for me. He politely nods. And it feels like it’s the last kind gesture I receive today. I don’t know what to expect. I’ve spoken to Bellino before, but I was drunk and thought he was going to be my brother-in-law. Now things have a whole new meaning, and I don’t know how to navigate this world I’m being thrust into.
I climb into the back seat and fidget, playing with my tie. Tightening it before loosening it, the suit feels expensive against my skin, and I close my eyes and clench my fists on my thighs, just wanting this to all be over.
The door opening makes me jump and forces me back into reality. I step out of the car and onto the driveway of some fancy mansion, something rich and ostentatious. I walk towards the door, and it’s open for me. As I step through, a waitress is standing there with a tray of champagne. I take a glass, knock it back, and screw up my face.
“God, that’s awful,” I whisper, as I place the glass down. I stare at her for a second. She’s beautiful, and I wonder if I could have been happy with someone like her. I lean in, taking two more glasses and throwing them back in quick succession. I pop them back down and take another. I give her a grimace and head further inside.
There are two men with headsets on, standing at a set of double doors. As they see me coming, one of them talks into a phone and nods, opening the door for me. I step inside, and there are so many people already here. I take a sip of the champagne more to have something to do with my hands than anything else. I glance around and see people stepping aside and gasping, and then I lock eyes with him.
Bellino walks towards me with purpose. Everyone is stepping out of his way, but his gaze is fixed on mine. He slows as he steps in front of me, shielding me from the onlookers with his massive frame. I stare up at him. I’m not short by any means, but he’s taller than me and wider set than me. He’s built like a rugby player, muscles on muscles. And I can’t help but stare at him.
“I hope you like the suit?” His gruff voice is deep and gravelly.
“You sent it?”
He nods, and I blow out a breath, feeling like it may be better to owe Bellino than Enzo.
I flinch as his hand reaches towards my face, and his features darken. There’s a coldness that spreads across his face, his body tenses, and I tense in return.
His hot hand connects with my cheek as he brushes his thumb over one of the scratches. His voice is a low rumble. “Who did this to you?”
I shake my head. But he growls, and I pull back a little. My eyes widen at the snarl that spreads across his face. I shudder, unsure if it’s aimed at me or the bruises and scratches. His grip tightens against my jaw.
“Who fucking did this to you, Leonardo?” I take a breath, ready to blurt everything out. When I see Enzo heading towards us. I freeze. Panic sets in. I reach up and move his hand away from my face.
“It was an accident. Sports, huh? You know what I mean.”
His hand reaches for me again, but I step back, putting some much-needed space between us.
“Bellino.” Enzo’s voice cuts through the air like a whip, and I look down, not wanting to meet his gaze. Bellino turns to greet him, shaking hands. They exchange pleasantries while I stand there stiff as a board, not knowing how to behave. Wondering if it’s too late to run, to change my name and flee the country.
Bellino
Chapter Twenty-One
The house has got people all over it. Caterers, staff, security. I’m pacing around my office. I can’t sit still. I’ve been following him. I’ve seen him every day, but he hasn’t seen me. I watched. I followed. I stayed back, but I’ve sent him presents. I’ve sent him a suit that he will look fabulous in for tonight, but we haven’t spoken or even been in the same room. There’s a knock at the door, and it clicks open.
Arianna’s head pokes through. She whistles. “Damn, Bell, you look hot.”
I adjust my tie and smooth down the imaginary creases in my suit. I scowl at her, and she laughs, stepping in and closing the door behind her. I’m not sure when she started to grow on me, or if she even has, but she seems to be around a lot.
“What do you want, Arianna?” I snap. She’s always in my business, always hanging around. I see her more than if I’d actually married her.
“Bell, don’t be like that. We’re family.”
