When Evie and Sophia are out of earshot, I turn to Arabella.
“What’s going on? I didn’t miss that cryptic conversation you just had with Sophia.”
“I promise you, it’s nothing for you to worry about,” she says, taking my hand. “You know how we were talking a few weeks back about wanting to be the masters of our own destiny. Getting out from under the thumb of overbearing men?”
I nod. I mean, that’s exactly what my red-carpet moment was about.
“Well, I’ve finally made a decision that’s going to set me on the right path,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
An announcement is made in the main hall asking everyone to start making their way to their tables for the start of dinner and formalities.
“There’s no time to get into the details now, but just know that it’s what I needed to do.” Her eyes swim with emotion and relief. “Fuck playing small to keep powerful men comfortable, Chiara. It’s time to break the cycle. Our future depends on it.”
Even if I don’t know what this decision of hers is, understanding passes between us. We hug before quickly using the bathroom and returning to our respective tables.
If I could relive that moment, I would’ve held her for longer.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Forever Cursed
Chiara
Haveyou ever felt like you were hovering above a scene so haunting that you could only conjure it in the worst of your nightmares? I’m certain I was standing on solid ground, running to Arabella as she confessed to falling victim to the golden-boy lawyer just exposed as the worst kind of predator. But now I’m not so sure. I’m heavy but also levitating. As the pretty golden glow from the abundance of candles filling the room slowly turns to vicious red, all I can think about is the artwork we studied at college.The Screamby Edvard Munch. Back then, our lecturer asked us to analyze the painting and appropriate it, so it related to a pivotal moment in our own lives.
This is it. Two years in the making and I’m standing in my version ofThe Scream. Throwing paint on the easel with each new sound and sensation.
Gray. The loud static of the video on the surround sound. White. Collective gasps echoed across the large room as it was revealed that one of New York’s most revered entertainment lawyers is a sexual predator. Black. Pitch black. The crack of the gunshot. Red. The blood-curdling scream of the woman I’vecome to think of as one of my only true friends. Red. The blood. Red. The frantic yells of Marco’s family and the men he calls his brothers. Red. Code fucking red. My heart cracking as I watch Seb shattering like glass, kneeling over his best friend, pleading for Marco to stay with him. Evie helping to pull his white dinner jacket and shirt clean off his body so he could press it to his wound to stop the life from seeping out of him. Watching her comfort him with her caress on his bare back, never taking her eyes off her best friend, trying to calm her with positive affirmations while watching her clutch to the lifeless body of the man she loves. Blue. The whooshing sound as I watch the blood turn those pure white clothes red. Red. Red. I see red. On Sophia’s hands. Dulling the sparkle of her gown. Dullinghersparkle. Her uncontrollable sobs slicing through my chest.
Silver. The flurry of people rushing around me, out the door. To me. White. I’m trying to get oxygen. It’s not reaching my lungs. Black. Black. Black. Eyes closed. No oxygen. Take me away.
I can’t breathe; the people around me feel like they’re beneath me. I don’t feel like I’m here anymore. My eyes get heavy. The room is spinning now.
“Chiara. Breathe. Chiara, listen to me. You need to breathe. Inhale, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four.”
I can hear his words, but I can’t follow his commands. There’s a roadblock in my throat. I feel like I’m choking on my tongue. On my tears. On my confessions. On my lies.
His big body shields me from the devastation in front of me.
“Angel, look at me. Listen to my voice.”
Angel. I snap my eyes to his, dark and silken like chocolate coverture.
He brings his face closer.
“Forget everything else. Just focus on my words, on my touch, on my eyes. Don’t try to look away,” he commands,refusing to let me turn my head when I go to look at the commotion playing out ahead of me as sirens blare and the clatter of medics running into the room adds to the swirl of chaos.
Big, strong hands on my face. Warm, calloused thumbs caressing my cheekbones.
Yellow.
Raf.
“That’s it. Good girl. Breathe with me, Chiara. Inhale, one, two, three, four. Exhale, one, two, three, four. And again. Yes. Just like that. He’s going to make it. He has to fucking make it.”
The raw emotion in his voice is my undoing. I crack. The sound that leaves me is deafening even to my own ears as I collapse into his strong chest, sobs wracking through my body at the realization that the stench of death follows me. Raf holds me like I’ve wished for every day since he cradled me in the back of his car that night. I don’t deserve his comfort. Don’t deserve to be saved from my panic. I earned the searing pain of agony that slices through me. Black. Black. Black.
