Controlled: A Dark Mafia Romance

Chapter 19

Bella

“Is it possible dreams can come true?” I whispered, more to myself than to the sinfully good-looking man sitting across from the table from me.

“‘In dreams and in love, there are no impossibilities,’” Creed said as he glanced out the window at the twinkling stars.

“That’s beautiful.”

“Not my words, Bella. They are from a passage by Janos Arnay.”

“That doesn’t make them any less beautiful.”

“Perhaps not, but dreams are what you make them. No one will create them for you.” Creed’s answer saddened me and I wasn’t certain why.

“If only there was such a thing as a good witch holding a magic wand.”

“If she were standing here, what would you wish for? And it must be something very personal, not saving the world or peace for all.”

As I took a deep breath and thought about his question, I basked in the moment, the exquisite restaurant and the clothes I was wearing. Yes, I really did fell like a fairy princess, and he certainly was no toad. I felt as if I was losing a part of myself, uncertain why the repulsion I’d felt for him had faded somewhat over the last few hours. It made no sense, none whatsoever.

“A prima ballerina for the American Ballet Theater here in New York.”

“Not the Joffrey Ballet here or back in your hometown?”

“As you well know, Los Angeles is my home, or at least it was.”

“Isn’t home where the heart is?” he asked, grinning as he twirled his rocks glass back and forth.

Why was I blushing? “Only if you have a heart.”

“Ouch. You wound me.”

“Ha!” I lifted my champagne glass, licking the rim on purpose but the inner voice inside of me was chastising the feeling of euphoria and freedom I’d just experienced. How in God’s name could I enjoy a dinner, drinks, and an entire evening with a bastard like Creed?

Because it’s obvious he cares about you.

There was another side to the shackled woman furrowing somewhere inside of me. I’d wanted someone to love me for as long as I could remember, even though I’d been terrified of losing myself in someone. But this? I was crazy to think of him as anything but some well-trained serial killer. Yet here I was laughing with him.

I had no clue how he could make me laugh after feeling like nothing but his hostage, but between dinner and the incredible atmosphere, being waited on hand and foot, I was in some crazy kind of spell I wasn’t certain I wanted to end.

When I was a little girl, before I’d embraced just how much my mother had resented me being born, I’d pretended I was the Hollywood princess with suitors lining up to court me. I’d even dressed up in my mother’s most beautiful dresses, putting on makeup and pretending I was her.

Until the day I’d ruined one of her Chanel couture creations, something the designer had made for her exclusively.

That was the day I’d learned how much she hated me.

I was thinking about that very moment as I stared out the bank of floor-to-ceiling windows, the Empire State Building lit up in red and so close, it was as if I could reach out and touch it. The entire restaurant was unlike anything I’d ever seen. There were twinkling lights everywhere, hundreds cascading down from the ceiling. The tables were far enough apart that conversations could be held in private, the white linens and stunning crystal adding to the posh atmosphere.

There was a grand piano nestled in one corner, the pianist accompanied by a stunning dark-haired woman dressed in red, a dress not unlike the one I was wearing. Almost every table had a fabulous-looking couple, most toasting from bottles of champagne.

Dinner had been incredible, food I’d never had before and hadn’t believed I could ever afford. Creed had ordered, insisting he do so and I couldn’t complain about a single selection. I was thoroughly enjoying the music, more relaxed than I’d thought I’d be.

Especially since my dinner companion was my captor.

And the four burly men were all standing in the shadows like statues. I had no idea how Creed could ever get used to being shadowed, constantly in danger but right now, I kept thinking about my mother.

I’d even been surprised at the light dinner conversation, the man not holding back on some personal details about himself and his likes. I could tell he was staring at me as he’d been doing almost all night. It was difficult not to stare at him, the man so handsome in his expensive tuxedo, the outfit complete with black onyx and diamond cufflinks, and a matching watch that could probably put a dent in the country’s deficit.

I threw him a heated gaze, still hating that every inch of me was tingling. When he smiled coyly, I tried to look away, but he leaned over the round table, gripping my jaw as he’d done before.

“What are you thinking, my perfect dancer?”

I stared into his eyes, wishing this was nothing but a dream date. I almost liked the man when he wasn’t acting like a crazed person. “How much my mother hated me. This is every girl’s fantasy and I wanted to be just like her because she had men fawning all over her. I thought I could find my perfect hero, but they don’t exist. Do they?”

He was taken aback by my out of the blue question. “Heroes aren’t reality for most men, Bella. Perhaps military soldiers hired to protect our country, but for the normal man, it places a heavy burden on him. No man is perfect, but they do need love and attention just like any woman. They hunger for it and when all they find is deceit, it takes everything away, including their souls.”

I knew for certain he’d been hurt more than once, his admittance something he’d maybe never done with anyone else.

“But every little girl dreams of a knight in shining armor, someone who will rescue her from the horrors of her life. In return, the damsel in distress is more than willing to give her dashing prince her heart and soul.” Maybe I was just lamenting over what I hadn’t allowed in my life, including romance.

“I wish I could tell you there were men of that kind of honor, but I’ve never known any.”

“Including yourself and your two brothers?” I took a sip of champagne, wondering why I was bothering to analyze the man. Granted, he was as complicated as they came. There were so many layers to him that I’d noticed in a short period of time, yet I had a feeling he was using the mask he wore to hide behind various traumas in his life.

I had no way of knowing if what he’d told me about the murder of his mother was true. However, if he believed that, the trauma of losing his mother at a young age, and to someone he was supposed to be able to trust, could have easily turned him into the monster he’d become.

Or that I believed him to be.

“My two brothers are better than I am, at least for the most part.” He’d forgone the champagne, drinking scotch instead. He released his hold, easing against his chair. He was more casual than before, completely comfortable in the opulent surroundings and at this moment in his own skin. But I also sensed he was like a caged animal, and if provoked would erupt from his cage, using his sharp canines. “But they still see good in the world. I am curious. How was your mother when you were a young girl?”

I laughed, trying to shove aside the pain from the memories. I shifted my attention toward the singer, the beautiful woman crooning out some glorious blues piece. All the hatred I’d felt toward the man for what he’d done and what I’d believed he’d been capable of seemed to fade, replaced with a strange longing to be in his arms as confounding as finding myself enjoying his company.

“It’s funny,” I started as I aimlessly rolled my finger around the thin lip of the gilded crystal stem. “When I was three or four, I thought she was a real princess. She was always so beautiful, always smiling for the cameras. She seemed happy and there were so many who adored her. I wanted to go with her everywhere, and at first, it was like I was her little angel.”

I noticed he was watching me intently, allowing me space to tell my sad little tale of woe. I’d barely talked about my childhood days with anyone, including Jonas. It had seemed pointless since I was now a fully grown adult, but at this moment I realized the ache remained.

“But soon enough, she didn’t seem to want me around any longer. For a little while, I had a nanny of sorts, a nice older lady who treated me well but as the roles started to go to younger actresses, the money drying up, I became the latch key kid. But I will never forget wanting to be exactly like her, dressing like her, becoming an actress. There was this one time I dared go into her closet. I found what I thought was the most beautiful dress in the world. It’s funny. The beautiful creation I have on reminds me of it. Same color, velvet fabric. I hadn’t known it at the time, but it was one she’d worn to the single time she was nominated for an Oscar.”

I felt bashful all of a sudden, uneasy about letting him into the darkest part of my life. Or what I’d thought had been. When he reached over, taking my hand into his, I didn’t try to pull it away. I wasn’t certain why, other than the look in his eyes was one of full understanding.

“Did anyone try and find out who your father was?”

“Often but my mother shut it down immediately, teasing that the man was a prince of a fabulous little country.”

“Creative.”

“A lie. Anyway. I tried to put on makeup but as any seven-year-old kid would do, I made a mess, including ruining the dress. I’d been so excited to show her that I was her little shadow, giggling when I woke her up from a deep sleep. Later I learned she’d been drunk, which is what made her so violently angry. I just…” The ugliness of the memory pulled at every emotion and a single unwanted tear managed to slide down my cheek before I realized it.

Sniffing, that’s when I tried to pull my hand from his, my other gripping the champagne with so much pressure I was worried I’d crush it between my fingers.

Up until now, I’d only thought of him as a man incapable of caring about anyone but maybe himself, a blackened soul with no humanity. And I knew he could be a damn good actor but when he brushed the tear from my cheek, there was a split second when I was able to see something more than just a monster.

We were more connected than I’d wanted to believe.

By our families who’d warped our sense of love.

By our lives subsequently shaped by what we’d been through.

By the sadness that never left but had been forced to morph into something else altogether.

“You are so beautiful, my perfect dancer. You deserve only the finer things in life, not suffering the anger of a woman pained by her past.”

I laughed bitterly instead of breaking down into sobs, something I hadn’t allowed myself to do for years. “Well, my mother certainly didn’t think so. I’d never seen her so angry. When I look back on it now, I realize she’d been plagued with demons but for a seven-year-old girl who’d looked up to her mother, she lost what was left of her innocence on that day. I’d never cried so much, begging my mother for forgiveness. You know? I never got it. After all the time spent trying to take care of her when the money ran out. Through her drug and alcohol events, fighting the men who tried to take advantage of her, and me as well, she never once said thank you or that she loved me.”

I sensed a change in his demeanor, the darkness taking over what little light he’d exuded all over again. Even his eyes seemed to change color in the flickering light of the candle, now so black and he appeared like the devil himself.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” His voice was also almost completely unrecognizable, his chest heaving from labored breathing. I could sense the evil man who hungered for more than just control threatening to give permission to his beast to erupt from his lair.

As if by instinct, I took his hand into mine, pulling the rough pads of his fingers against my cheek. “No, Creed. I learned something very important over the last few years that allowed all the hatred and anger I’d felt for my mother to disappear. And do you want to know how that was possible?”

He said nothing but lifted his head slightly, his nostrils flaring.

“It took me time but when I realized that whatever she’d gone through in her life before and during the time we were together was something she didn’t know how to deal with other than turning to alcohol and drugs. I don’t know why the man she’d obviously fallen head over heels in love with abandoned her and his baby, but that was far too devastating for her psyche to handle. Maybe you can’t understand that, but I could see it in her eyes. I could feel it every time she looked at a picture of a couple so happy together or even a television show depicting two people in love. She couldn’t fake it any longer on the big screen and I’d heard her more times than I could count bawling her eyes out when she thought I was asleep. Love is a wonderful thing when both people feel the same, longing for nothing more than sun-kissed days of being together, nights of passion sharing their intimacy. But when only one person is involved, the heartache can be devastating.”

“I do understand, Bella. However, what few memories I have regarding my mother were pleasant ones. She was a bright star much like you, her life snuffed out far too soon. I am curious. Did your mother ever mention who your father was?” He poured me the rest of the champagne, taking a strawberry from the dessert we’d shared and gently plopping it inside.

The gesture was another sweet thing that I hadn’t expected. It also made me smile. I took a sip, laughing from the way the bubbles tickled my nose and he was watching every nuance, his brow furrowed as if trying as hard to figure me out as I’d been with him. “No. I asked her many times when I was young until she finally had one of what I called her attacks, forbidding me to talk about him at all. But up to that point she’d told me that he was a horrible criminal and we were better off without him.”

“Really. You don’t know where they met?”

“No. Nothing. I used to find it odd she acted as if she hated him but slept with a picture under her pillow.”

“Did you ever see it?”

I leaned over, biting my lower lip. “Don’t tell anyone but I snuck into her room one day when I was maybe fourteen or so, finding it hidden underneath a jewelry box. It was a beautiful picture taken at a little table in front of what appeared to be the most gorgeous turquoise ocean I’d ever seen. The sand was pearlescent white, the sky bright blue. They looked so happy and I could see why she’d thought him very handsome. All dark and foreboding looking. Kinda like you.”

He laughed but I could sense he was more curious than ever. “And you don’t know his name.”

“Why are you so interested?” I took another sip, feeling another wave of heat between us. My nipples hadn’t stopped aching, the electricity something famous romance authors wrote about in their books. Besides, the kind of connection we shared didn’t occur for girls like me.

“Perhaps because of your comment hoping for a knight in shining armor.”

“Well, from what little she said, he wasn’t one of them. He told her he loved her then disappeared.”

“She said that?”

“The vanishing into thin air part, yes, but the love came from what was written on the back of the photograph.”

“Which was?”

“Mi hai rubato il cuore, bel fiore. Un giorno ci incontreremo di nuovo e sarà per sempre.” I whispered the words in Italian, which surprised me as much as opening up around him.

“You’ve stolen my heart, lovely flower. One day, we will meet again and it will be forever.” He translated the words from Italian easily, including faking a slight accent.

Another surprise.

“Yes. How did you know?”

He grinned and took the flute from my hand, the crackle between us intensifying when our fingers touched. With a seductive smile on his face, he plucked the strawberry from the glass, slowly easing his arm over the table. He didn’t need to command me to open my mouth. I found myself leaning over the table, opening my lips into a small but perfectly rounded O.

The smile on his face was more devilish as he rubbed the juicy fruit around my lips three times before tenderly pushing it into my mouth.

I took a nibble then another, noticing how aroused he seemed, his chest heaving all over again. The moment and his actions were entirely too intimate but pulled me further into the magic I’d mentioned.

“Because, my perfect dancer, I was required to learn several languages as a child.”

As I chewed, I thought about what he was saying. “Your father?”

“Yes. He was a harsh taskmaster among other things, including being a gifted yet tortured man.”

“What other talents do you have?” My instinct told me he had no desire to relive his childhood. And I wasn’t certain I was ready to hear what horrors he and his brothers had obviously suffered.

“Mmm… Let’s see. Paddle boarding.”

“Athletic.”

“Boxing.”

“Oh, lots of aggression.”

“Sky diving.”

“Far too dangerous,” I huffed, returning to my champagne.

“But what is living without experiencing danger?” He slowly lowered his gaze to his drink and we both watched as he swirled the glass back and forth ever so slowly. When he lifted his chin, his eyes piercing mine, I felt as if I’d been pulled into a delirious vacuum. “And I do play a mean piano concerto.”

“My. You are very talented. Aren’t you?”

As he threw back his drink, I realized my pulse was racing. He pushed back his chair, tossing his napkin on the table and standing with purpose. When he extended his arm, as if he was a gentleman instead of the devil, my pussy reacted first. The deep, intense throb made me lightheaded, my entire body swaying and I’d yet to stand.

“I’m also an accomplished dancer. Ballroom. Jazz. Salsa. You might be surprised. While you’re my perfect dancer and will dance for me alone, not tonight. Tonight is about us. Come join me.”

Us.

For some crazy reason, I liked the sound of it.

I took a deep breath before sliding my napkin onto the table. While still tentative about taking his hand, once I did all the nervousness, the swarm of butterflies I’d felt around him faded away. “Nothing about you surprises me any longer.”

“Then I guess I’m not doing my job well enough.” He turned around, switching the way he was holding my hand. As I was pulled behind him, the powerful man walking us through the crowd, I sensed there wasn’t a single person in the room who hadn’t stopped eating and drinking, laughing and talking to take a moment to stare at the gorgeous couple.

And we did look good together, stunning in fact.

Even the reflection of our heated bodies in the windows, white lights twinkling all around us added the perfect illumination to what could appear to be a couple very much in love.

That made me wonder whether he was even capable of such a thing.

As he pulled me close to the musicians, I was suddenly more nervous than before. Why? I’d also danced just about every style over the last few years, my experience with the Joffrey allowing for use of varied techniques.

He allowed our fingers to slip free and turned to face me, giving me a heated yet stern look. “Stay right there. Do not move. You know, Bella, that I would hunt you down.”

A part of me wanted to try to flee to see what he’d do, but not like before, not because I was terrified of what he was going to do to do. Because I wanted to know what lengths he’d go to in order to keep his possession secure. How strange. How… twisted.

He spoke with the pianist, even slipping the man what appeared to be money. When Creed turned around, his look was even more primal than before, the hulk of a man taking very slow steps in my direction. There was a moment where it seemed everyone in the room stopped talking, stopped breathing as they waited to see what we would do.

As soon as the music began, I recognized it immediately. It was one of my favorites, the mention of a beautiful lady in red an homage to the love of the singer’s life. He swept me into his arms, one hand wrapped around my waist, his fingers on the other grasping mine. The music, like the dance, was seductive and more powerful than non-dancers could understand.

He was masterful in the art, spinning us both around the dance floor with ease. The few moments were so powerful, drawing me into more than just a magical state. It was as if time had stopped, karma putting us together for a reason. When he twirled me, pulling me into such a deep arc, my head almost touched the floor, I heard several people from the closest tables gasp. As if the muscular man would ever let me fall.

He leaned over while holding me that way, his balance unlike any dancer’s I experienced, the twinkling lights allowing me to see the burning need in his eyes. And as he yanked me against him, our bodies crushed together for a few incredible seconds, I felt something other than hatred and lust.

I felt alive and adored.

Even though I suddenly wanted the world to fade away, allowing us to be very much alone, I was also petrified.

Not of the man.

Not of his vicious nature.

Or his penchant for pain.

But because I had a terrifying feeling this was the beginning of the end of a part of my life, the birth of another.

And it would involve the man easily able to steal my heart.