SEVEN.

As the taxi comes to a standstill outside the La Farfalla restaurant owned by the one and only Don Valentino, I shove a fifty-dollar bill in the driver’s face and the second he takes it, I exit the taxi. Slamming the door behind me.

I’ve been out of the hospital for three days now, and those three days have been nothing but torture. 

My father refused to leave my side, and it took a lot of persuasion on my behalf to convince him to go back to work.

I love my father.

I love him more than I love chocolate cake, but occasionally, he can be overbearing, forgetting that I am an adult, and I am capable of making my own decisions even if they are dangerous and land me back in the cruel hands of Don Valentino.

But my father did tell me to do whatever it takes to get Savannah out of the villa. 

So technically, I’m just doing what my father is asking of me.

As I saunter toward the entrance of the lavish restaurant, my eyes catch the sight of two burly men in impeccable suits, standing guard at the door. 

Without a moment's hesitation, I approach them as my heart pounds with anticipation.

I reach for the door handle, and the two men step out, their eyes fixed on me with an air of authority as they lower the shades that were concealing their eyes. It was then that I knew—I had just crossed paths with Don Valentinos' henchmen, and they weren’t going to allow me access.

Clad in sleek black suits, they formed an impenetrable barrier, barring my entry.

I tilt my head to the side and narrow my eyes as they flicker between both men. “I’m here to see Don Valentino. I was under the impression that he was eagerly awaiting my visit after I recovered from the little shit show he forced me to endure. You can let him know that Ivy Bishop is here in the flesh to see him.” Venom laces my words.

“Don Valentino will come to you when he is ready to see and speak to you. Not the other way around.”  The man on the right speaks in a nonchalant tone as he slides his shades back up the bridge of his nose, rudely dismissing me.

“Where’s Riccardo? If I can’t get an appointment with your boss, then I will settle for seeing the dipshit, Riccardo. After all, I’d like to thank him for the lovely flowers and the sweet balloon he delivered to my hospital room.”

“Gesu, ha una bocca su di lei,” the man on the left utters as he removes his shades from his face and places them in the breast pocket of his suit while rolling his shoulders back.

“English. I don’t speak Italian, and I’m only going to assume that you are secretly flirting with each other. Which is cool with me, I mean, I have nothing against gays. But I am curious to know… who does the bending between the pair of you?” I nervously ramble, trying to keep a straight face when both men turn to look at one another with disgusted expressions staining their features.

A furious growl disperses through the air, “I said, Jesus, she has a mouth on her.”

“Oh, right,” I wave my hand with a roll of my eyes. “Just so you know, my mouth is capable of plenty of damage and my words aren’t my only weapon. Though… they are powerful, but…” my voice fades as I nibble on my lower lip, giving them something to think about.

And it’s as if gravity has taken control of their eyes because both of their gazes drift downward, lingering over my lips. One side of my mouth curls upward as my tongue darts out of my mouth and seductively sweeps over the bow on my upper lip.

“Per favore, stop talking about your lips,” The man on the right pleads as he adjusts the tent growing in his pants.

“Stop staring at them,” I snap with a sigh, realising I'm just wasting my precious time on these two goons.

Just as I’m about to turn around and go back home with the plan to show up at the villa later, the entry door to the restaurant opens and Riccardo pops his head out.

“Riccardo!” I shout his name, faking an Italian accent. “You lied to me, you said Alessandro was eagerly awaiting my visit, yet he is denying me entry into the restaurant to see him. I’m seriously confused here.” I speak to him in a dramatic tone.

Riccardo sighs loudly, pulling the door wide open. “He’s had a change of heart,” he motions for me to enter the restaurant, and both Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb step to the side to allow me through.

Swallowing thickly, I flick my hair to the side and run my hands down the front of my jeans. My heart begins to beat fast, sending a slight tremor through my body. 

This is what I wanted.

 I wanted to face Don Valentino and give him a good piece of my mind.

But why am I struggling to put one foot in front of the other to allow myself to be led to the devil once again?

“TikTok, principessa. Don Valentino won’t wait for you forever.”