Chapter 2: Hell Hath No Fury

Chapter 2: Hell Hath No Fury

Regina’s P.O.V

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned…

She bathes in blood of her enemies torn.

She leads her knights to battlefields alone,

And then she watches as the whole world atones…

Who said these fine lines of poetry, you may ask? Well…of course, a woman scorned. And when a woman is left no choice, nowhere to run, that’s when she learns to be at her strongest. That’s when she learns to fight back, to be her most vicious self that even the demons of hell fear and cower from.

Or so it is said…

I’m a woman with a vendetta. A woman scorned and a woman torn apart till there were only ashes left of her.

But I rose from those ashes long ago. And I will keep on rising no matter how many times I am burned, scorched and shatters. Because there is nothing more dangerous than a woman who has learned to rise from her ashes; who has been violated countless times and has learned to use her body as a weapon…who has been broken and scattered to the ground …before she has learned to dust off those parts of her like fine dust on the road.

Learning to rise up hadn't been easy. Learning to patch my wounds hadn't been easy. Learning to dust off a filthy man’s touch after my body had been violated by countless of them, countless times…hadn’t been easy. But I had done it anyways.

Because that was what made me stronger. My resilience and my strength…and my thirst for revenge. And because it was the only choice I had left.

I had been sixteen when I had been sold off to prostitution. A girl barely a woman. And then I had had to survive a world that had been worse than hell, my admirers worse than vile demons of hell.

Today, ten years later, I sat at the back seat of my SUV, admiring the glow of my skin in the dim overhead light as I applied the last layer of make-up on my perfectly sculptured face, the tiny mirror of my compact reflecting the light from above. I was beautiful, and I knew it. I wasn’t going to be a gullible fool who shied away from compliments and pretended not to know my self-worth.

I knew just how beautiful I was, and just the kind of affect I had on men when I walked past them on the streets. I had been blessed with my mother’s Italian features as well my father’s sharp American features. I had the best of both worlds.

My long black hair reached to the middle of my back in thick, natural waves; the light reflecting off of my olive skin made it appear golden and my soft lips were painted a devil red to accentuate the plump, roundness of them. I inherited my green eyes and my sharp nose from my father, and that set me apart from the rest of the woman in the party.

That…and the blood red dress I was wearing with a diamond choker. The dress had a halter neck, with a triangular cut-out right under my breasts that reached down to my navel. I had paired the dress with red stilettos. The white gloves added a hint of chastity that was far from the truth. And then I lay in waiting right outside the City Hall where the party was in full swing; a charity event for the high and mighty. The politicians, the rich businessmen and the men who ruled the underbelly of New York with an iron fist.

“Sorella (sister),” Cole, one of my bodyguards, brought my attention back to him in the car. “Here comes the prey.”

The corners of my lips tilted up as I saw the black Rolls-Royce pull up to the red carpet. And then I saw him coming out of his car in a tailored suit that fit him like a glove, accentuating all the hard muscles and that slim waist.

Him…the man who was called the Lion of the Empire…the man who was responsible for my misery…Leonardo D’Angelo. The head of the Costa Nostra, the Capo de Capi… the most ruthless man in New York.

No cameras flashed as he entered the Hall. No cheers or wails of fandom. Only silence greeted his entry as the entire party cooled down to a simmer, watching…dreading.

And that was my cue.

“Be careful, Sorella,” Alistair, my chauffer and another one of my bodyguards warned me as I opened the doors to my car. “He’s not gonna be an easy target.”

“No, of course not.” I smirked. “What’s the fun in taking him down if the prey dances right into your trap at first glance?”

With that, I stepped out of the car and shut the door, flipping my hair over my shoulder as I made my way to the entrance.

My heels clicked on the concrete floor, the sound growing louder as I approached my destination, until my footfalls hit the velvety red carpet and were completely muted by the soft material.

The valet turned towards me and his eyes widened in shock. It didn’t take long for lust to follow as he looked me up and down, before he cleared his throat to compose himself and held out his hand. “Invitation, please.”

I took out the little golden envelope from my purse and handed it to him. “Regina Milanesi.” I told him.

“Yes…of course.” His composure held a slight hint of imbalance as he looked me up and down once again, before pointing towards the entrance. “Ma’am…”

I gave the kid a lopsided smile, watching his composure slide even more, before I walked past him and into the open gates of the City Hall.

This time, the commotion that followed was off the charts. Heads turned, eyes widened and whispers spread like wildfire.

It was all because of one vital reason…I had violated the black and white dress code…purposefully.

And when the entire room had eyes only for me…a pair of electric blue eyes met mine from across the room, from within a face carved out by expert Greek sculptors. That look turned searing in a matter of seconds, making me pause in my steps.

And as his lips tilted up at the corners, making my heart skip a beat in a way I had never once expected…I thought to myself…Did I really come here to prey? Or was I going to be the one being preyed on tonight?