Meeting the devil

The phone kept ringing for attention in the living room. Lily hurriedly draped the bathrobe around her still-wet body and picked it up.

"Hello?"

"Who is it, Lily?" Nonna asked, placing the knitted sweater on the table and sitting beside Rosalina near the fireplace to get some warmth. Outside the house, it was a cold, mundane, rainy day.

Nonno had gone hunting with her uncles and cousin Saint and will be back tomorrow while the three women nestled inside the house.

Lily, with a worried look on her beautiful face, said. "It was Sasha, the Salvadori's housekeeper... Elena... she died. Sasha asked us to attend her funeral."

"Died? How?" Rosalina asked, grabbing an apple from the fruit basket and leisurely taking a bite.

"She had a stroke..." Lily said woefully.

"I don't think Matteo will attend," Nonna said.

Of course, he won't.

Nonno would rather choose to step on burning coals than attend the funeral of a Salvadori.

"It's okay. I'll go attend." Lily paced to her closet and changed into a modest black dress and draped her lab coat over it. She snatched the car keys and hurried downstairs. She had told Sebastian she was going to see an outpatient and, thankfully, he believed her.

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The Salvatores gave her hateful looks and questioned why she was there, and gratefully Sasha defended her, telling them Elena wanted Lily to attend her funeral to pay respect.

Her eyes would occasionally skip around the men and some of them stared at her almost admiringly, besotted by her bewitching face, and a few even tried to flirt with her, so she stopped peeking curious glances at them.

Vincenzo Salvadori didn't attend his own grandmother's funeral? How odd. She thought.

She saw his brother; she guessed Leonardo Salvatore at a distance, with a melancholic expression plastered on his face.

The crowd dispersed. Friends and family members took off in their flashy cars, so she walked away from the family graveyard.

A bolt of lightning flashed in the sky and tiny droplets dribbled down from the clouds. Lily clutched her stomach, the menstrual cramps kicking her insides.

The rain got heavier. She spotted the nearest gazebo and ran towards it, lost her footing because of stupid heels, and tumbled down the harsh stone path, scraping her knee. She lifted her skirt to examine the wound, and it bled. Great! Just great! She hissed.

Just then, an enormous shadow hovered over her, sheltering her from the rain. She looked up, and she met with the silhouette of a tall man holding an umbrella over her head.

"Can you walk?" He asked, his voice so deep that it send butterflies aflutter in her stomach.

"Y-yeah." She got up but staggered when she felt another cramp kick in. The man held her by the waist and pulled her against him in a solid grip so she wouldn't fall again.

"Hold this." He said, handing her the umbrella. In one swift move, he scooped her up in his arms, princess-carrying her. She held on to his broad shoulders, afraid she might fall, but his hold felt secure.

"W-where are you taking me?" She asked.

"To the gazebo."

She followed his gaze and saw them heading to the gazebo. She wanted to kick herself for asking a stupid question. 

He helped her get seated in the chair and swung his large black coat over her shoulders. The heat of his body clung to the fabric, providing warmth to her shivering body. She looked up at him, this time evidently reading his facial features. He was handsome, too handsome to be real. His hooded dark eyes studied her with an unreadable look, his black hair cut short and gelled back. It gave him a cold, brooding impression.

His well-built body was dressed in a black suit, enhancing his regalness, and giving him a deathly aura altogether.

Another cramp kicked. She clutched her stomach and winced.

"What happened?" He asked. For a moment, she thought he was concerned for her, but his stoic face said otherwise.

"Cramps..."

"Do you have a stomachache?"

She blushed and looked away. "I'm... on my period."

He came near her, slithering an arm around her shoulder and another beneath her knee, ready to carry her again. "Let's take you to the hospital, then."

She shivered and moved away from his hold as if his hands had static in them."No! I'll be fine once I get home and take my medicines." She said, staring at him wide-eyed.

He took out his phone from his pant pocket. "List them out. I'll tell my men to bring them here."

"I said it's fine. I just need some rest, that's all." She spoke immediately.

"Then it's better if you rest inside the mansion."

"No, I can't."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Why not?"

She nervously looked around, searching if any of her nonno's men were around, monitoring her, and she didn't see anyone except for a few servants working for the Salvadori family and some other unfamiliar faces.

She hadn't told nonno she was attending Elena's funeral. If she had, then he wouldn't permit her to come here.

"B-because I'm not comfortable staying in a stranger's mansion..." she said, feeling stupid for not coming up with a better excuse. "I should leave now."

She got up, hugging herself from the frosty air, and was about to walk past him when he grabbed her wrist. "Then get used to it." He said in a threateningly calm voice.

She frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Are you really a doctor?" He mocked, his lips lifting into a small, amused smile.

"I am! Wait, how do you know that I'm a doctor?" She yanked her wrist from his hold, stepping back.

He came forward, one daunting step at a time, and she stepped back as if they were two of the same poles pushing each other away.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked who I am."

"Vincenzo Salvadori," she muttered in a shaky voice and hugged herself tighter. Her back hit the pillar of the gazebo, forcing a yelp out of her. He trapped her between him and the pillar.

How could she forget their first encounter that happened eight years ago? Back then, his face was a lot less roguish, a lot less sinister than it was now. She could never in her life, forget what he had told her that day.

'I would like to make you my wife, Lilliana.' She had called him a ridiculous man for what he said to her.  

The strong masculine scent of cigars hazed her brain and she could no longer think straight.

His face inched closer, and she blinked furiously she heard him chuckle in her ear, deeply entertained by the anxiety he put her in. "You guessed it right, Dr. Russo."

This is the man Elena desperately wanted Lily to marry. Elena had told her a lot about him being the youngest Don at thirty. Quite an accomplishment compared to his merciless forefathers.

People called him the devil, for he brought hell upon whoever went against his wishes. Even to his own family members.

He pulled back, letting some space between them. Letting her breathe. "It's better if you take a rest inside the mansion. I can't let a lady stay out here in the cold."

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