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Thirty Eight
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2025-01-29 20:00:00"Are you okay?” he asks. I nod, only to realize he can't see me over the phone.
“Yes, did you get back safe?”
“Yes.”
I’m on the phone with Raul while walking out of the hotel for my meeting. The art curator I’m meeting was a connection from the masquerade ball exhibitioner, and if this deal goes through, it could be a huge step toward getting more exposure for my work. But Raul’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts as I wait for my Uber.
“Have you thought about what we discussed?” he asks, his tone clipped, as if he’s running out of patience.
I sigh, knowing exactly what he’s referring to. I did think about it. I even went ahead and tried it, but it turned out to be a huge disappointment.
“Alessandro changed his mind,” I say, hearing Raul mutter something under his breath, like he can’t believe it.
“What do you mean he changed his mind?&rdquo
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I walk to the restaurant entrance, and I have to admit, it is fancy, alright. The moment an attendant at the door offers to take my coat and gives me a ticket for it, I know without a doubt that this place is upscale. Definitely a good sign that I might not hate this date. When I asked Michael for an idea of what kind of date it would be so I would know what to wear, he said I should dress fancy, and honestly, it feels good to dress up every once in a while for something like this. I’m dressed in a black bandage dress that accentuates my curves perfectly, paired with golden strappy heels that match my purse and jewelry. Bella helped with my makeup because she’s pretty good at it. I didn’t want to go all out and give an impression I don’t intend to give.“I’m here for a reservation made by Mr. Cisse,” I tell the attendant, who nods and gestures for me to follow a woman dressed in a black skirt suit. The inside of the restaurant is even more impressive than it looked from the outside. Wh
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"Renee!” Michael’s voice booms through the kitchen, snapping me back to reality. I jump and start taking slow, steady steps backward.I look at him, trying to hide the shock on my face. He lets out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head.“What did you do?” I ask, my throat dry and my voice barely above a whisper.“Can you believe these racist assholes?”“What?” I ask, confused by his words.“They intentionally delayed your meal because—get this—you’re a different shade from them, and they don’t serve people who look like you. Racist bastards.”The words hang in the air, and a chill runs down my spine. For a moment, I can’t even process how I feel. Racist? I hadn’t even considered that, but now the tension in the kitchen feels even more suffocating.Being treated differently because of the color of my skin wasn’t something I experienced much growing up. In fact, people often thought I was prettier or placed me on a pedestal because of it. When I moved here, the experience was different,
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He has his trademark toothpick perched between his lips, and for the life of me, I don’t know why anyone would think walking around with a toothpick in their mouth is cool or even gangster. It’s just weird. His demeanor is calm, but the slight crease on his forehead is a clear indication of how dangerous he can be. I hate to admit it, but the sight of Mateo being here brings a wave of relief. As much as I despise the situation, I’d choose someone like Mateo over a stranger who pretended to be a good guy by taking me on a date. I don’t know Mateo well, but the fact that he works for Alessandro makes him the closest thing I have to protection right now.Michael’s grip on my wrist loosens as he turns, his eyes narrowing at Mateo.“Mind your own business,” he snaps, trying to sound confident, but the slight waver in his voice betrays his unease.Mateo smirks, casually flipping the toothpick between his fingers.&ldquo
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I’m sitting on the floor of our new apartment, sorting through clothes and sipping wine. Bella is sprawled out on the bed, her legs hanging off the side as she types furiously on her phone. The apartment is mostly bare, apart from two beds in each of our rooms and a few things Bella brought from home. We moved in a couple of days ago, and even though the movers did most of the heavy lifting, I hated how they arranged my clothes. So here I am, trying to fix it while Bella keeps me company. We decided to move into the apartment despite Dell's role in helping us get it. We love it and didn’t want to start searching for a new one.“Okay, I know the restaurant staff being racist was a bit of a stretch,” I start, folding another shirt, “but Michael’s reaction was completely uncalled for. And now that I know he knew my father? I just don’t get it. Is that why he approached me in the first place? Because he knew who I was?” The events o
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I stop just outside, panting, trying to calm down, but the nausea from what I just witnessed is overwhelming. My stomach churns violently, and before I can stop it, I double over, vomiting onto the grass. My body convulses as the bile rises, the acidic taste burning my throat, and tears sting my eyes as I wipe my mouth with a trembling hand.I hear footsteps approaching and sniff, glancing up to see Alessandro. His expression is unreadable. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches me with those cold, calculating eyes. The blood on his hands catches my attention, and another wave of sickness crashes over me.“Renee,” he says firmly, though not unkindly. His voice startles me all the same. I jump, taking a step back, fighting to control the tears welling in my eyes.He doesn’t comment on my reaction. Instead, he gestures to an outdoor sink nearby and walks over, turning on the tap. The sound of running water fills the silence as he be
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The kiss is just a soft brush of the lips, and for a moment, nothing happens. He doesn’t move, doesn’t even breathe. He’s just standing there, his eyes fixed on me, wide and dark. I think I’ve made a mistake—that any second now, he’ll pull away and leave me humiliated. So I decide to step back, but then I gasp as his hand moves to my waist, his fingers pressing into my skin, pulling me closer.His lips meet mine—slow at first, almost testing—but soon the restraint gives way. He deepens the kiss, and I feel myself being swept up in it, drowning in the heat of the moment. He pins me against the wall as his grip tightens, his other hand tangling in my hair as his mouth claims mine with an urgency I didn’t expect. A soft moan escapes me as his tongue brushes against mine, my fingers curling into his shirt, pulling him closer.For a brief moment, I feel alive. Every nerve in my body is alight with his touch, his lips on
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I am shaking as I stare at the pool of blood on the floor next to my father’s leg, which keeps growing larger with every passing second. His face is pale, and he is starting to get weaker. I’m trying to hold back my tears, wishing I could help him, but I can’t move. My body feels like it’s chained to this seat, my fists trembling in place on my lap.“Okay, I’ll ask again,” Emilia’s sharp voice cuts through the air, making my heart race even faster. “Who do you have resentment for in this room, Principessa?” she asks in a mocking voice.My throat is dry, my voice barely above a whisper as I stammer. “Maria.”I hear Maria scoff at the other end of the room. “Bitch,” she mutters under her breath, but it’s loud enough for everyone to hear.I swallow hard, trying not to look in her direction. Emilia leans forward, clearly intrigued. “Oh, now this is getting interest
