Caught snooping

Chapter four

West

“Who's the woman in the painting?” I asked instead. A dark look crossed his face, and his eyes glinted dangerously.

I wasn't fazed. I'd rather glance at him while he looked like that, than answer his question.

“What?” He let go of me, and I moved away.

“The painting in your room. Who's that woman?” I asked, my voice a notch higher.

“It's none of your business. Did you touch it?" He asked coldly.

I crossed my arms. “And why are you more concerned about that, than answering my question?” A smile touched my lips, before I smothered it off.

He advanced towards me, slowly. With each step he took, I took one backward. Then, he halted. His face, a complete stoic mask, finally cracked after a while.

“Answer the fucking question, Grenade.” He spat.

“My name's West. And no, I didn't touch it. Now I'd like to eat.” I rubbed on my belly slowly.

He arched his brow. “And what makes you think I'd let a stranger eat in my Dimora?” He questioned.

“Oh?” I straightened. “You had no objections with fucking a stranger in your Dimora- whatever that means.” I retorted.

He finally laughed, and I stared on, captivated for a moment. His laughter was…heart tingling.

“The dining room is five doors to your left, after this corridor. You should stay put, till I return. And when I do-” He paused, and looked me over.

I gulped, my skin feeling scorched all over. Never had I felt so many emotions in one day. Heck, I hadn't even felt so many emotions throughout my entire life.

I was just a little child, when my parents died. Papá said they'd died in a car accident.

“What would you do, when you return?” I asked, in a pathetically shaky voice.

He was already walking away. His broad shoulders flexed, as he turned to cast me a stare. “You'd leave. I'd make sure you're settled well enough to call it quits.” And then, he was gone.

The glass mansion was so big. Five doors later, and I was standing before a white door. It wasn't transparent, so I couldn't see the other end.

As I stood there, waiting for whatever miracle that'd happen, so I could walk inside, I couldn't help but compare Fausto to Dante.

It was a foolish thing to do of course, but I couldn't help it.

Without doubts, Dante was freaking-fucking rich. If that was even a word.

The door finally opened, after what seemed like hours. It was a beautiful looking middle-aged woman, with an equally mesmerizing smile on her face. She was dressed in a green flowing gown, and her black hair was packed in a bun.

She fired rapid Italian at me, and I smiled awkwardly, wishing I'd understand what she was saying.

She crossed her arms and looked me over. Then, she waved her hands in. “Si accomodi.”

And although I didn't know what that meant, I muttered a polite, “Thank you.”

The dining room turned out to be a wide, and large white hall with different paintings hanging on the wall. I concluded that Dante was into paintings, as much as he was a Mafia Lord.

The table was already set, with different mouthwatering dishes that somehow seemed buffet standards, laid on it.

I pulled back a chair, and sat on it. The woman came over, the smile still on her face.

“Sei la nuova amante di mio figlio?” She asked, patting my shoulder.

Sure that my face was a mask of confusion, I shook my head. She looked at me expectantly, and I racked my head for some Italian words I knew.

“Scusa?”

An odd look covered her face temporarily, before she threw her head back, her body wracking with laughter. “You not Italian?”

Grateful that she knew some English words, I nodded. Different scenarios of an uncomfortable breakfast had crossed my mind. I'd wondered how I'd sit through the entire breakfast, having to converse in Italian, which unfortunately, I didn't understand.

"No, I'm not.” I replied, finally smiling at her.

She nodded, in realization, as she took a seat beside me. “Are you Dante's Signora?” Her eyes were filled with expectation, and I struggled for an answer, at the same time struggling to keep my revulsion at bay.

His what?

“You mean his lady? No, I'm not.” I turned towards the dishes on the table, ready to dig in. I hadn't eaten for days now, surviving only on a cup of espresso, each day.

“Don't shy.” She patted my shoulders again, and rose. Pointing at a particular dish, she said, “This lasagne alla bolognese. You enjoy.”

Thankfully, she strolled out of the room minutes later.

***

Inwardly hoping that I was heading towards the right direction, I made my way to the bedroom.

The dishes had been so delicious, that I'd eaten three courses at a go. That was already much, compared to my normal eating habit.

Thoughts of what'd happen, when Dante returned, filled my mind. I couldn't afford to leave. To take back The King of Hearts, I had to remain in the mansion. I had to be within.

Just then, I rounded up on a door. It was ordinary looking, just like the dining room's. But I'd been going on missions long enough to trust my instincts.

And at that moment, I wanted to look at whatever was inside the room.

The door had a security lock on it. Few minutes later, I successfully hacked through the security lock.

I walked in, hoping I'd be done long enough, before anyone stumbled in on me.

The room was dark, devoid of light, except for the few beams which crept through the covered floor-to-ceiling window.

I left the door ajar, as my eye caught a painting. It was the same painting which hung in Dante's bedroom. As I stood before it, I couldn't help but admire the woman.

She was pretty, with wavy curls. Her face was closed up, with a melancholic look in her eyes.

I trailed my hands over the frame. Papá hadn't mentioned Dante having a woman. Who then was the woman in the painting?

Recalling how withdrawn Dante had looked when I'd asked him about her earlier on, I knew she was someone important.

My hands inched towards her face slowly, and then…

“What are you doing here?” I jumped, and whirled around with a surprised look of someone who'd been caught snooping around.

Suddenly regretting my impulse, I didn't reply to his question. I hoped he'd overlook the fact that the room had been locked, before he left.

“I was just passing by, and saw the door ajar.” I shrugged, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

He walked in stealthily, his demeanor so calm, that my heart couldn't help but race.

“The door was ajar, you say?” He scoffed.

I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. His cologne filled my nostrils. It was different from the one I'd been used to back home, in New York. It was more masculine, and intoxicating.

He stopped right in front of me, and bent his head, just to my eye level.

“I told you to stay put, Grenade. Now, I'd ask again, what are you doing here?” His warm breath fanned my face.

“I-I told you already.” I responded defiantly.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, as he straightened.

My mind worked fast. I turned to look at the painting. “It's the same painting. Is she your girlfriend?” I stifled a smile, when he fixed me with a murderous glare.

Finally, a distraction.

“I've told you not to butt into my personal affairs, Grenade.” He spat, his voice crisp and sharp. His face was devoid of any warmth, as his eyes bored into me.

“Let's see… That's negotiable. If you'd stop addressing me as Grenade.” The name irritated me, for whatever reason.

“Do you know who I am?” His voice was icy as the snowdrops during winter.

I shook my head. I didn't. I didn't know that he was Capo Dante, the ruthless Mafia Lord who'd end a life, with just a single order. I didn't know that he was the Capo of the most powerful 'Ndrangheta in Italy. I didn't.

“I am a Mafia boss, Grenade. I could kill you right now, and no one would care. And don't you ever try to negotiate with me.” He drawled slowly, his tone ominous.

And even against my wish, I swallowed hard. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” He said, with a mirthless smile.

His words made my core throb, and I inwardly reprimanded myself. I hated this. I hated how easily my body reacted to him.

I was a Mafia princess for fuck's sake. He wasn't supposed to intimidate me. I'd grown up knowing nothing, but ruthlessness.

But this… This was different. Unexplainable.

“Now,” He continued with that annoyingly seductive baritone of his. “Follow me.”

I hesitated. But as much as I hated taking orders from anybody, I followed him anyway.