Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

“A mirror reflects what you see, and a black remembers shows the dark side of it.”

– Madeline Brewer

MELODY POV

Laughter filtered up the stairs, white noise washing over the house as more and more guests came trickling through the front door.

On calculated steps, I walked down the spiral staircases, one hand braced on the smooth railing while the other clutched the side of my dress, lifting it up so that I don’t fall and plant myself face first; and worse, in front of the ‘guests’.

I would pluck my gut out if that would happen.

“NINAAAAA…” My sister Gia -who had the eyes of a hawk- squealed from across the vast lobby where the ceremony was held, shifting all the attention onto me.

Forced smiles and innocent faces.

Shoot me in the foot right fuckin’ now.

Giana, or Gia as we all called her, was an energy ball, all the things you can expect of a 17-year-old. Beautiful, loud, honey-tongued, with an unwavering mischievous look on her face as if she was constantly plotting the end of the world. Her curly shoulder-length hair made her look like something from a magazine, some runway model. She was lean, a beautiful face... a literal wet dream on two legs.

As soon as I stepped on the final step, people swarmed up like cats called by a cat-nip, infesting my personal space. An itch to growl at them was almost dizzying, but I reminded myself to calm the fuck down.

This was Laura on the surface.

Cool, calm, an effortless smile on my face. The innocent, eldest daughter of the Cattanio-Aldermen who had a smile that could warm up New York’s cold.

And Melody was a mine. You step on it; you die.

“Congratulations, Miss Melody. You should join our company.”

“You finally made it.”

“I remember when I was graduating…”

Yeah right. And that’s one of the million reasons why I never attend events like this.

Whiskey straight from the bottle, bare feet against the hard tiles and lingerie VS high heels, forced smiles and chatters with the clanking of the wine glasses…

The former took the trophy.

About a thousand handshakes, numb cheeks from a forced smile, and a bitter taste in my mouth later, I finally stepped out into the open patio of our giant house, overlooking the Kosher and luxury of Hollywood night.

I was on my fourth glass of wine, don’t know where they kept the whiskey… They probably hid it though, I wouldn’t put that past them. As buzzed as I was, I still couldn’t shake off the cold sensation inside of me that seemed to be following me around. It was as if my body was in some protective mode, refusing to relax.

I hated feeling like prey when I was the real hunter. They did not call me Bloody Mel for nothing. I earned the name, killed my way into the history books, and everyone in the whole of California and the rest of the world knew not to fuck with Melody Cattanio-Aldermen.

Do that if you are tired of living. A fair warning hey.

I leaned against the glass railings before looking inside the buzzing lobby of our home.

Everyone seemed to be having the best time of their lives, glances casting my side now and then, forcing a very sick smile from out of me. I could take all of them down in a single blow, and by tomorrow morning, they would be nothing but history.

They made me sick. All of them.

They were so full of pretense and dishonesty and I was sick of seeing their ugly faces already.

As much as Mama insisted on this, I’d rather be out there hunting people that dared to think they’d rip my fathers’ hard work underneath them.

Blood vs wine and fake smiles?

I’d choose blood without thinking.

Remember the name, Bloody Mel?

Yahp.

I was vaguely aware that I was raised unlike all the other people, all other girls. I understood the concept of life and death way before I could know how to write my name.

I held a gun in my hand before I could understand a thing about this world, and made my first kill before I could start menstruating.

Papa used to tell me that life is like rose petals. Beautiful, yet meaningless unless you make meaning out of it.

I knew it right then that we were different.

By the age of 8, I knew there was more to know about organized crime and underworld feuds than I knew about Pokémon and Disney princesses.

And fun fact, I loved it.

We were different from everyone. We were surrounded by luxury, a life that could only be seen in dreams while swimming in blood and dirty money.

And that’s what made the world bend its knee in front of us. My mama didn’t want this life for me. She never failed to remind me how she almost lost herself in all of this, how she once bombed a plane full of passengers only because the rival gang was using it to smuggle drugs and diamonds.

And then she tells me not to choose that fun?

Hell no.

Besides, I did not choose the thug life.

It chose me! I was anointed the moment they saved me from that dumpster. The moment they took me in as their daughter and game life I never imagined, even dreamed of.

So yeah…

I was in this for life.

“It is awfully rude to leave people having fun when YOU should be attending to them.” A thick, raspy Russian accent sounded from my right. A rush of awareness with a whisper of coldness washed down the length of my back, my body coiling painfully inside of me. I sensed the intruder way before I could even turn to see who it was.

“Why aren’t you at the party, Melody?” I hated how arousingly smooth my name rolled on his tongue. The chilling sensation I felt the entire evening seemed to multiply by a hundred, my body freezing as none but Damir Zaitsef inched closer to where I stood.

“Why aren’t you?” I countered, willing my voice to be as flat as I hoped and refusing to let him see my face. I never wanted to give this man a chance near me. Hell, he was not even supposed to be breathing the same air as me.

“I saw you standing here all alone and looking bored.” He drawled, and I bet he thinned those evil eyes at me because my skin started crawling uncomfortably underneath his watchful gaze, the hairs at the back of my neck standing on alert.

“I needed some air.” I raised my glass to my lips, hiding the threatening tick of a muscle on my jaw before turning to my left and facing him.

Black eyes stared back at me intently. Even underneath the night sky and lights, I could see the evil swirling just beneath his black orbs. The obsidian that coated his whites made him the true incarnation of evil. Not even a tinge of warmth whatsoever.

And they say I was evil.

If there was a fusion of both angels and demons, Damir would 70% be a demon and 30 an angel. If not 80. No man in this world rattled me the way he did. And that was rare. Very rare.

“Of course.” The ‘r’ was stretched, rough, and very much slicing that a chill ran down the length of my spine, wounding around the lean of my waist before pulling my stomach into hollowness.

This man unnerved me in all ways. Literally all ways.

“You came. Must have been hard to fly from Russia on such short notice for a simple graduation party.” I settled for indifference, and thank God it came just as how I had intended.

Black mane swept over his broad shoulders as he chuckled lowly and dangerously, inching closer than I had hoped, unnervingly closer until he stopped right in from me. The open lapels of his coat brushed against my front, his death-like cologne washing all over my senses and engulfing me whole. His bulky body shielded my whole form from sight. If anybody glanced this way from the lobby, all they’d see would be broad shoulders stuffed in a tuxedo plus midnight black hair running over the shoulders. Oh, that and the pool of the dress around my feet.

I have never hated my short petite height until now.

My neck craned as I stared back at him.

Too fuckin’ close.

“I can never miss a chance to see you,” his voice rattled, his breath fawning over my face. Whiskey and something… inhuman.

Him.

“Of course.” As sarcastic as I possibly can.

“You look amazing, Melody.” Something dark glimmered in his eyes, his gaze hardening as he leaned closer until his lips brushed my cheek.

My eyes shut instinctively, as though they were not prepared to see him that close. The scent of him was concentrated until all I could breathe was him.

A mixture of hotness and cold danced in my veins, sending my pulse frantic.

I made it a mission to hate this man passionately.

"Don't keep the guests waiting." He interjected, his breath all over my face until I shut my eyes and willed my nose to stop breathing.

I nodded, and he started to walk off. I didn't open my eyes until his footfalls were completely swallowed by the footfalls.

If he does that again, I was going to tie him on the bed and set the house on the damn fire!

Watch me.