4. Aurora
Chapter 4
Aurora
S hifting my attention away from Romeo Bianchi—head of the fucking mafia—I fight against the rising tide of emotions threatening to suffocate me. The weight of my circumstance sits squarely on my chest; heavy and painful . He doesn’t say a word, the only sounds around us that of the storm outside and the creaking of the old building.
My eyes flutter closed and I huff out a bewildered laugh. I’m going to die because of the actions of a man I haven’t seen or spoken to in over ten years. My last words to Francesco Costa— my father —were screamed with all the hatred, sadness, and anger I couldn’t hide as he walked away from me. I told him that he was dead to me, and if he left, I didn’t want to see him again. Despite my threats, he went without so much as a backward glance. Without an ounce of remorse.
There is no hope of him coming to my rescue.
Romeo clears his throat and my eyes pop open. My executioner moves into my line of sight, scrubbing a hand over his jaw. Following the motion, my focus lands on the black gloves adorning his hands.
“Perhaps you need a reminder of the gravity of the situation you’re in, Aurora, because I don’t think you get what my presence here means.”
Oh, believe me, I do .
I tighten my fists and hold his intense stare, ignoring the way my muscles tense and a thread of trepidation weaves its way through my body with each passing second. I work like crazy to keep it hidden from him. Showing any weakness will only mean he’s won.
He takes a step forward, followed by another, until his legs are less than an inch away from me. I keep my attention on that tiny gap. In my periphery, I see him lift a gloved hand, and I brace for the impact. He’s probably frustrated, angry even, by my lack of fear.
But instead of hitting me, he peels away the tape. Air hisses through my clenched teeth at the sharp sting left behind. He meticulously folds the strip before dropping it on the windowsill. “Do you understand the predicament your father has put you in, cucciola ?”
I nod. Even with my limited knowledge of what my father was involved in and who this man is, it’s easy enough to grasp. And yet I can’t seem to make myself care. My shoulders slump and my breathing evens out. I welcome the numbness that’s invading my body, pulling it into my embrace until I feel nothing but peace.
Will the sun still shine when I’m gone?
Of course, I know it will. Even if it hasn’t made an appearance for me since the day my mom died. Darkness has been the only thing I’ve known for twelve long years. It’s probably why nobody will notice when I’ve gone.
I’ve coasted through life with little to no human interaction. I should have made friends. Hell, I should have tried to live my life instead of wallowing in my grief. Would she be disappointed in me because of it? Or would she understand that nothing made sense and I just couldn’t cope without her?
Either way, the sun will still rise and set, the world will keep spinning, and people will continue to come and go.
“Aurora.”
It’s a command that rolls off his tongue in a way it never has with anyone else. A jolt of something that has no right to be there passes through me, settling in my core with ease. As I’m sure he intended, I lift my wide eyes to him, my mouth slightly agape and unspoken questions hanging in the air between us.
“Speak.”
My head rears back and my brow tugs together. Someone should teach this guy some manners . Who the fuck does he think he is? I don't bark just because he—or anyone, for that matter—demands that I do. In fact, he can shove his question up his ass. I look away, my teeth grinding as I fight against the desire to tell him to do just that.
His hand darts out and seizes my chin, forcing me to look at him. There is no gentleness in his hold. No, he’s showing me a glimpse of his power. Well, I didn’t need it. His fingers dig into my jaw so tightly I’m surprised it doesn’t crack in his grip. He dips until his forehead presses painfully onto mine.
Despite the physical discomfort he’s causing me, I can’t stop myself from pulling in a breath at his proximity. My senses are assaulted by his clean, woodsy scent as his cobalt-blue eyes meet my sea-green ones in an almost volatile moment.
Easing up on his assault, he smooths his thumb over my jaw as he demands, “Use your words, Aurora.” He pauses. “Do you understand?”
I swallow thickly, my voice betraying me and coming out as nothing more than a croak. “Yes, I understand but?—”
Romeo steps away, dropping my chin like it’s on fire and cutting me off as he says, “Good. Now, where is your father?”
Rolling my eyes, I blow out an exasperated breath. “If you’d let me finish.” My reply has too much sass coating the words, especially given the interaction we’ve just had.
He bares his teeth in a snarl before raising a brow while he waits for me to continue.
I tell him the truth. That's all I have. “I don’t know where Francesco is because we haven’t spoken in years.”
A shadow passes over his features, and when he finally speaks, his voice sounds even darker and deeper than it did moments ago. “What should I do with you, bellissima ? Should I take you until your weasel of a father comes crawling out to save you? Or should I send a message to him now? Maybe cutting off a finger for every lie you tell will be enough to draw him out.”
My fingers flex on the arms of the chair as I grip them. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his black slacks. His stance is relaxed and deceptively calm, given he’s just described how he plans to dismember me.
He moves to lean against the arm of my mom's armchair, before he continues, “No. I think perhaps I should skin you alive. Send your father a video to commemorate the process. Your screams of terror will haunt him every day until I track him down and show him il vero diavolo . It would be the least the pair of you deserve because thinking I am stupid seems to run in your family. I know he’s been watching you, bellissima . I found the cameras and the empty apartment across the street.”
My mouth falls open before I catch myself and snap it shut. What is he talking about? A groove forms between my brows and my eyes dart around the room, wondering if the surveillance made its way into my apartment.
Stretching his neck, he looks around the curtain, directing my attention to the building across the way. I haven’t paid much attention to it. Why would I? A shudder races down my spine when my eyes land on the only floor in the building that’s pitch black. Romeo lifts his hand in what looks like a signal to someone in the other building. A light from a torch shines in one of the windows and I can just about make out the silhouette of a man. The beam of light lands on a metal rod, moving upward until a small camera atop a tripod comes into view.
Somebody has been watching me?
For how long?
For the first time since I walked into my apartment today, true fear takes hold of me, creeping into my blood and turning my skin cold. I can feel it rushing through my body, sucking the life from my being. My body revolts, fighting against the tape on my wrists.
I never asked to be a part of this life.
Dropping my focus to the floor, I pull in a breath and blow it out, accepting the fact that Romeo Bianchi isn’t the man to give me any answers. There’s no use in me losing my shit over this. Closing my eyes, I swallow thickly, pushing down the panic that’s simmering beneath the surface.
When I open them again, I find Romeo watching me. “Not that I get a say, but my preference would be for you to kill me as quickly as possible. And for what it’s worth, I am sorry my father wronged you.”
He takes the three or so steps it takes to come to a stop in front of me. I steel myself against the effect his proximity has on me. I expect him to do what he’s done each time he’s made this exact power move, because that’s what this is. A power move . A way for him to instill fear in me and make me more pliable. But he’s in for a surprise, as I refuse to do either.
Pulling a hand out of his pocket, he brings it toward me. There’s no emotion on his face. In fact, he looks cool, calm, and collected when he tightens his hand around my throat. The pressure isn’t enough to cut off my air supply, but it does give me a stark reminder of the power he has over me… the power to take my life with one squeeze of his hand.
What feels like a current of electricity passes between us, as he strokes his thumb down the column of my throat. I fight against the overwhelming urge to swallow thickly, worried that he might take it as a sign of weakness. My eyes get heavy each time he touches me and moisture floods my mouth.
Begging is beneath me.
But what would I be begging for?
Romeo drops his hand. I fist mine, grateful they are tied to the chair and unable to hold the heated skin on my neck. Forcing my breathing to remain even, I keep my eyes ahead as he walks behind me. I watch his reflection in the window as he picks up something from the coffee table. When he turns, the glint of metal is hard to miss, even in the dimly lit room. A fluttering of anticipation zaps through my chest before it’s gone. Wetting my lips, I search for the words to beg for my life but come up empty. Even as I open my mouth to speak, nothing comes out.
He stands behind me, the knife in his hand and his head tilted. I sit back in the chair. The tension I’ve been holding on to for far longer than tonight ebbs away, leaving me feeling relaxed. I accept my fate at the hands of what I’m sure is one of the deadliest men I’ve ever met. My eyes flutter closed, and I hone in on the feel of every breath. Each inhale and exhale is a gift about to be taken away.
The cold metal presses gently on the exposed skin at the base of my neck. This won’t be quick . It can take anywhere from six to ten minutes to bleed out from cutting the carotid artery. He drags the knife across my shoulder and down my right arm. Goosebumps follow in its wake and my nipples pebble from the excitement that comes with the danger. The pull of the tape being cut has me sucking in an audible breath as surprise steals my fear.
“If you try to run, I will break both of your legs. If you cooperate with me, cucciola , well, then I’ll set you free. Capire ?” His voice is dark, but there’s a note hidden somewhere in the depths that sounds like he might regret the words he utters.
I don’t want to be free .
Not in the way he means, at least. Yet I still find myself nodding, despite the dark, twisted side of me wanting to test his threat.
With the tape removed from my wrists and ankles, he straightens, throwing the knife onto the couch behind me. “Stand in front of the window.”
Getting out of the chair, I do as he demands. This has to be a trick. There’s a camera across the street, one Francesco supposedly set up. Is he going to kill me in front of it?
All thoughts leave me when Romeo’s heat engulfs me from behind. My body tenses, and I force my attention down to the street below. Anything to not meet his captivating stare in the reflection of the windowpane. A row of black SUVs line the street, abandoned in the middle of the road. How did I miss those when I came home?
Romeo places his now bare hand on my hip and presses his body into mine. His solid build is almost comforting, begging me to lean back into him. I know I shouldn’t, but I crave the intimacy that I think he could give me. But that’s another version of us; one that doesn’t exist and never has. Standing rigid, I ignore the feelings stirring in my gut from his proximity. “Smile for the camera, Aurora,” he murmurs, his warm breath dusting my ear.
As if I’m a puppet to his every command, my eyes lift, finding the window across the street from earlier. Looking in from the outside, the way his hand is resting on me and the closeness of our bodies, it might look like an intimate embrace.
When his hand moves under my T-shirt, the roughness of his palm grazing my stomach has me suppressing a primal moan. The sensation his fingers leave behind on my heated skin has my head sagging and my body melting into him as his hard length against my back drags the moan from my mouth.
I need more. My hips grind in small, slow movements. I feel wanton. Bracing my hands on the window frame, I dig my nails into the wood to keep from touching myself. It would be so easy to give in to this attraction I feel for him.
He fists my hair with his free hand, yanking on the strands as his grip on my hip tightens to the point of pain. He jerks my head to the side and buries his nose into the crook of my neck. Instinctively, my back arches, and my eyes close, my body craving more .
With his hand still resting on my bare skin, burning into the flesh with a heat I haven’t felt in a long time, he licks the column of my throat, nipping my earlobe. A dark chuckle falls from his lips, echoing around the room and penetrating the haze that I was happy to drown in.
Heaving my eyes open, I meet his in the reflection of the glass. A smirk pulls at the corner of his full mouth, amusement dancing in his eyes. I’ve played right into his hands .
“ Bellissima, you put on an even better show than I could’ve asked for. You just might be of some use yet.”