A THREAT?
The café should provide a small haven from the whirlwind of the past several days, I hoped. Though the scent of new coffee and the gentle buzz of conversation were meant to be calming, they appeared to accentuate my thoughts instead. Trying to ignore the chill still clinging to my bones from the early morning drizzle, I put my hands around the steaming mug.
My phone broke the silence on the table by buzzing on top of it, and I looked at the screen. Still another reminder of the engagement announcement from my dad. I sighed, unable to help, but it felt like every communication stacked on additional pressure, not like I would have forgotten.
Letting my thoughts wander, I watched the rain-slicked streets out the window. The café was cozy, but outside the dark sky and consistent rain pattern reflected the uncertainty developing in my head. Was this exactly what I yearned for? Was I really about to wed a man I hardly knew, someone who lived a life of shadows and power?
I observed someone walking into the café, and my ideas were cut off. She was difficult to overlook. Walking in with all the grace and presence of someone aware she was the center of attention, Miranda looked, her heels clicked fiercely on the hardwood floor, each step resonating louder than it ought to have. Her fitted black dress, which hung to her physique in a way that made me immediately self-conscious, was not softened by the low lighting.
Her sight of me and her straight over trajectory astounded me. She was obviously up to something since her lips curled into a smile; she missed her eyes.
"Well, well, if it isn't the future, Mrs. Vincenzo," Miranda exclaimed, her voice dripping with a mix of sweetness and hate. "Enjoying your coffee, darling?" She asked.
I forced a tight smile, attempting to hide the abrupt knot of pain in my gut. "Miranda, what a surprise! What are your desires?"
She skidded across from me into the chair without waiting for an invitation. Her scent, combining jasmine with something harsh, was overpowering. Lean in close and "just a friendly chat," she suggested. Her voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper, as if she were divulging a secret meant especially for me. "You see, with Lysander, you are entering something different than what you would be comfortable with. You do not know the man he is.
The café closed in all around us. The sinister tone in Miranda's speech became the only thing I could concentrate on as the far-off murmur of other chats dulled me. Once soothing, my coffee tasted like burned bitterness.
"What are you speaking of?" Trying to keep my voice calm, I asked.
Miranda delayed her response right away. Rather, she gently, deliberately pulled out her phone. I watched, my heart accelerating as she went over her pictures. She stopped at last and pointed the screen toward me. Looking as good as ever, Lysander was seated with his arm around Miranda. They were looking so delighted and laughing.
As I studied the picture, my heart dropped. Though Miranda's presence was unnerving, the picture of Lysander and Miranda together felt like a kick to the gut. Is this possible? Was Miranda correct? < Was Lysander the guy I had imagined, or was I simply another pawn in his merciless game?
"That was long ago," I murmured, my voice hardly a whisper. Right now, he is with me.
Miranda leaned her head to the side and expanded her smile. "For right now, maybe." Men like Lysander, though; they hardly ever change. You are only the most recent diversion. Keep from being overly at ease.
Her comments seemed to be a chilly hand squeezing my heart. Like rain seeping between the crevices of an ancient umbrella, doubt seeped in. Miranda's comments truly touched close since, deep down, I realized I didn't know Lysander. Though I had seen the charm and the power, I had not seen the real man beneath the mask. Was I only a fresh chapter in his scriptbook?
She got up with purposeful, fluid motions. "Think about it, Kylie," she continued, her voice bearing a finality that made my skin crawl. People seem to vanish in Lysander's universe. I would hate to see you subjected to anything.
Miranda grabbed from her bag a sleek black card before I could really understand her remarks. Her eyes fixed on mine; she set it on the table before me. "Just call me if you ever need a reminder of what's at stake or if you want more information on how deep this goes."
Miranda turned and left, her heels tapping hard on the floor. Stammered, I sat there, glancing at the card she left behind. My hands shook as I lifted it up and flipped over. Just a phone number and the words; no name was used here.
"Kylie, just a heads-up: those who meddle are not welcomed on Lysander's planet. Think again if you believe you to be safe. Those who offend him sometimes find themselves in terrible, horrible, permanent circumstances. I would hate to see you turned into another example. Follow my advice: keep keen and treat this as a major warning. Ignoring it might have really serious repercussions.
Mind racing, I hurriedly placed the card into my backpack. I had to leave that place. Originally a refuge, the café felt stifling. The rain outside had become a torrential downpour, and as I hurried outdoors, the frigid, weighty droplets appeared to reflect the turbulence in my head.
Miranda's threat and the sinister card pressed down on me as I strolled home. Kind of realm had I entered? Ahead were hazards? The rain hammered nonstop against the ground, reflecting the anarchy in my head. I couldn't get rid of the sense that something was approaching—something I wasn't ready for.
I was soaked by the time I got to my flat; my coat hung to me like second skin. My mind racing with anxiety and uncertainty, I kicked off my shoes and sloshed in the door. I inhaled deeply, then settled down at my desk, fixed on the engagement ring on my finger. Though it glittered in the low light, the diamond felt more like a weight than a token of love.
Looking out at the streets slicked by rain, Miranda's warning and the card kept playing in my head. The storm raging outside seemed to be a mirror image of the tempest developing inside me. What had I become involved in, and how much risk was actually present?
THE COUNTDOWN TO ENGAGEMENTTwice a day. Just two meager days till my presence formally runs down the toilet. Like a gloomy cloud hovering over me, the engagement party loomed large and I couldn't get rid of the sense of approaching disaster. Who, at seventeen, has an engagement party? For loud screaming out, this was not the 1800s.Sitting on my bed, I watched the pale pink frock hanging on my closet door. Mom had picked it out naturally. Heaven forbid I show up for my own engagement party sporting something I truly like. I moaned and flopped back onto my cushions. Perhaps if I desired really hard, this would all simply vanish."kylie! Kylie! Join me at my pity party." The sound of small feet stomping down the hall burst through. My door opened to show my younger brother, Kael, his dark hair standing in every direction and his eyes glittering with mischief."I want to play!" he declared, throwing himself into my bed with the elegance of a young elephant.I started to grin and ruffle
MINEThe booming sound of the grandfather clock in the corridor echoed across the huge manor as midnight approached. I lay wide awake in bed, feeling as though my head was spinning with ideas and emotions. Instead of being comforting, the silk sheets now felt suffocating against my skin. The memory of dinner lingered in my mind, with the tension, loaded looks, and barely veiled threats hidden beneath polite conversation. It replayed in my thoughts, each iteration deepening the pit of fear in my stomach.I turned onto my side and looked at the elaborate vanity across the room. In the low moonlight streaming through the heavy draperies, I could just see my reflection — a pallid ghost with wide, troubled eyes. Looking back at me, I hardly recognized myself. Was I the cleaned-up daughter of a criminal lord? The future bride of an even more dangerous man?Muttering "Screw this," I slung my legs over the side of the bed. As I padded across the room in near-darkness, fumbling for my bathrobe
SIX MONTHS LEFTLittle puffs of white vanished into the cold Chicago air as my breath coated her lips. Not even my big coat could shield me from the stinging winter cold that seemed to permeate my own bones. Perhaps then it was more than just the temperature. Perhaps the cold I experienced exceeded mere sensation.Crawling over the snow-covered streets, the sound of new snowfall under my boots gave my depressing thoughts a consistent cadence. Walking with me were my mother and sisters; our modest procession was completed by the always visible security. Only another family trip. Indeed.My stomach turned as we walked toward the opulent bridal store, its windows bursting with flowing white gowns and glittering accessories. Was not this meant to be thrilling? A passage of passage. A dream fulfilled.A few dreams.As we entered, the bell above the door chimed, and I was instantly hit by a flood of warm air and the stinging aroma of perfume. To welcome us, the small woman running the store
HIS ARRIVALI found myself in front of the big mirror in my suite, the golden light from the chandelier giving my face a cozy glow. My reflection looked back at me, but I wasn’t really feeling it. My dark hair was on point, but my hands kept messing with it, smoothing it down like that would somehow ease my nerves.The black skinny jeans felt like they were squeezing the life out of my legs, and the tight fabric wasn’t helping my anxiety at all. I kept pulling at my shirt, the soft material clinging to my skin and reminding me just how revealing this outfit was. “Why did I let Ava convince me to wear this? This outfit screams desperation. Lysander doesn’t care about my looks… does he?” I thought, trying to shake off the worry.“Stop fidgeting, Kylie. You look great. Actually, better than great,” Ava’s voice broke the silence as she lounged on the couch, flipping through a magazine with that annoyingly relaxed vibe she always had.“I really don’t think this outfit is a good choice. It’
A TRAPAs Lysander and I stepped into my bedroom, the air felt charged with tension. The door clicked shut behind us, and it was like the walls were closing in, isolating us from everything outside. The soft light from the lamps created long shadows that only added to the uneasy feeling churning in my stomach.I tried to calm my breathing, but it was tough with Lysander looming so close. He scanned the room with a detached curiosity, his eyes icy and calculating. I could sense his gaze even when he wasn’t looking directly at me, and it sent chills down my spine.“Why did you bring me here?” I asked, attempting to sound more self-assured than I actually felt. My voice trembled a bit, giving away my anxiety.Finally, Lysander’s eyes met mine, dark and intense. “I wanted to talk about a few things in private. Ava tends to downplay serious issues.”I let out a sigh, my shoulders drooping. “Ava wasn’t trying to downplay anything. She was just dealing with the situation in her own way.”For
WEDDING PILLS "There's one more thing we need to discuss," Lysander said, his tone deceptively casual. He ran a hand through his perfectly styled hair, a telltale sign of discomfort.Kylie's stomach did a backflip. "What now?" She asked, trying to keep the tremor out of her voice.Lysander cleared his throat. "Your, um, health regimen. You taking any... supplements?"Kylie's brow furrowed in confusion. "Supplements? Like... vitamins?""Not exactly," Lysander muttered, avoiding her gaze. "More like... preventative measures."The penny dropped, and Kylie's cheeks flushed crimson. "Oh! Oh, god, no. Definitely not."Lysander's eyes snapped back to her face, searching. "You sure? Your mom didn't slip you anything on the sly?"Kylie let out a strangled laugh. "Are you kidding? My mother still thinks babies come from storks. She'd sooner teach me advanced calculus than broach that subject."A ghost of a smile flickered across Lysander's face before he schooled his features back into neutral
OVERPROTECTIVE Ava's eyes widened in understanding, then narrowed dangerously. "Tell me that slimeball didn't--""Can we not?" Kylie pleaded. "I really, really don't want to think about it right now. How about we watch a movie or something? I could use the distraction."Ava looked like she wanted to argue, but finally nodded. "Fine. But this conversation isn't over."As Ava flipped through the TV channels, Kylie found her gaze drawn to Dante. His stillness was unnerving, like a statue come to life."Um, Dante?" she ventured. "You don't have to stand there all night. It's kind of freaking me out. Would you mind... sitting down?"Dante considered her for a moment, then moved to the vacant armchair. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing a crisp white shirt and a holster containing what looked like two guns and a knife.Kylie's mind raced. Would he be there all the time? Even when she needed privacy? The thought made her skin crawl.She was jolted from her spiraling thoughts by Rosy's vo
A NIGHT OF TENSIONThe living room was bathed in a soft, amber glow from the antique lamps, casting long shadows that seemed to dance across the faces of the four individuals gathered there. Kylie perched on the edge of the plush sofa, her fingers absently tracing the intricate patterns on a throw pillow. Next to her, Ava lounged with the easy confidence of a cat, her eyes sharp and assessing as they flicked between the room's occupants.Rosy, all gangly limbs and boundless energy, hovered near an oversized armchair where Dante sat. The young man's posture was ramrod straight, his eyes constantly scanning the room with the practiced efficiency of a seasoned bodyguard."Whoa," Rosy breathed, her eyes wide as she took in Dante's imposing presence. She inched closer, drawn like a moth to a flame.Kylie watched her sister's approach with growing unease. "Rosy," she warned, but her voice was drowned out by the sound of Rosy's girlish giggle.In a move that seemed to defy the laws of physic