Chapter 15 Selene
Chapter fifteen
Selene
My eyes bounce across the vast expanse of the courtyard as I take in the view from my window.
Neatly groomed flowers invade my sight, bringing a small smile to my lips.
The irony of having something so beautiful in a mansion where actions, or lack thereof, could determine whether you live or die, is not lost on me.
Luca used to call a don’s abode the line where life and death collide. He wasn’t wrong.
A breeze rustles the flowers, and I feel my smile fall. Luca. I miss him so much. I don’t bother holding back the tears that sting my eyes. The holes in my chest—the ones I felt when I saw them shoot him twice—still bleed.
On days when I manage to push the memory to the deepest corner of my mind, my heart aches heavily. But on days like this, when I’m overwhelmed, it burns, consuming every inch of my body like a wildfire.
He was my other half…my twin. He was there for me in the best way he could. He always promised that one day, when Dad died and he took over the mafia, I’d be free.
“Just hang in there, Selene,” he’d say anytime he saw me looking sad after one of Dad’s tantrums.
Nana used to say the same thing, too. She never missed any opportunity to tell me to listen to Dad and that all of my troubles would soon be over.
God, I miss her. Her low, raspy voice, her kind, calming eyes. What I wouldn’t do to see her just one more time.
Shaking my head, I wipe my eyes, bringing myself to the present…to the recent happenings within the past few days. To Cortez.
Things haven’t been the same since the argument in the kitchen. After he gave me the deadline, he’s been…distant. I mean, it’s not like he’s usually any different, but it’s just…there’s a small pinch in my heart at his…silence.
Familiar sadness pricks my chest, but I shrug it off.
It’s nothing deep. Of course, he’s inconsiderate. There’s no way he would even stretch the deadline a little.
There are barely three days left to find information about Dad’s mafia. I shouldn’t be sad at his actions…or inactions, when all of this—whatever it is—is short-term.
I shake my head. What happens when the timeline for the contract is over? I should definitely have a plan—unfortunately, one that still involves Cortez.
After faking my death once and successfully deceiving Dad’s enemies, I can’t do it again. They’ll immediately know it’s a sham and find me. The same applies to Ramirez.
But if I manage to be in Cortez’s good books, I could find a way to make him help me.
The only thing is, men like Cortez don’t help…
at least not when there’s nothing in it for them.
The only way to gain Cortez’s help would be to prove that I’m worthy of it.
And what better way to do that than by offering my loyalty?
Showing him I’m loyal, trustworthy…so that when all this ends, he’ll help me disappear.
A knock on the door jerks me out of my thoughts. I arch a brow and turn, wondering who it could be as I sneak a glance at the clock. It isn’t time for lunch yet.
My steps are slow and messy as I walk to the door. Does Cortez want answers right now? Sweat gathers on my palm as I fist the knob, opening the door gently.
I’m met with a man. He’s tall, has dark hair, dark eyes, and doesn’t look like an ordinary guard. For a moment, I try to recall if I’ve seen him around, but I can’t place him.
“Boss said to prepare for an outing in twenty minutes,” the man says plainly, and I almost laugh in his face.
He must be joking. “Tell your boss I said no.” I feign a sweet smile and move to close the door when he stops it with his foot.
My brows furrow to shoot him a deadly side-eye. His face remains blank.
“Twenty minutes. Boss doesn’t like waiting, ma’am.”
I roll my eyes, letting the words out slowly. “I said your boss can kiss my ass,” I sneer, then slam the door in his face.
I know I’ve just thought about loyalty, but I promise loyalty is hard when the subject in question is an asshole. There’s definitely no way I’m playing cute for the camera with a man who has put me on stringent deadlines and fucked me only to behave like I didn’t exist the following day.
Folding my hands against my chest, I release a scoff.
After the events with the chef, I’ve not once felt like leaving this room. All Cortez has done since I came to this mansion is try to take away my freedom, so why should I let him whisk me away to some fancy event just because he pleases?
Because you’re his fiancée.
Ugh.
I’m barely back at the window when the door swings open. I turn back to see the devil himself striding in with an angry expression.
“Get dressed. You’re coming with me,” he deadpans.
I scoff. “Did your guard not hear me? I said I—”
“What you said doesn’t count for shit,” he interrupts sharply. “Now get ready.”
The fucking audacity.
“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not one of your dogs you can bark orders to whenever you want.”
He looks like he’s holding back more anger than he’s letting on. Well, good for him, because I’ll make sure he explodes before he leaves this damn room.
“Of course,” he bites out, fixing me with a smoldering gaze. “Dogs listen.”
My blood boils. How dare he?
“Do you ever even think of asking nicely?”
“I have no need to,” he replies coolly.
I smirk. “Of course. That would require basic human decency.”
A loud hiss sounds sharply as he grabs my wrist and slams me against the wall. “Enough,” he growls with a tone of finality. I gulp.
“You will let Maria dress you now. Refuse her and she loses her job.”
I gasp. Unbelievable!
***
After about forty minutes of tense silence, the car rolls in front of Sorella. The driver quickly jumps out of the car to pull the door open for me, bowing as he waits for Cortez to get out of the car.
I take in the exquisite building. It’s all made of clean, shiny glass that reflects almost like a diamond would. When we get inside, it’s no different. Exquisite scent and marble tiles that stretch neatly in a blend of rose gold and white.
A young male, tall and lean, instantly walks up to us. I look at the tag on his shirt that says Manager. Hmm.
“Good day, Mr. Donatelli, my name is Dean, and I’ll be attend—”
Cortez stops him with a single raise of his palm. “I don’t want you.” He frowns, then points at a brunette standing behind a counter. “You.” He flicks his finger. “Come!”
Dean makes a small bow gesture before disappearing out of sight, and the brunette walks towards us. I don’t miss how the other female employees stare and whisper discreetly to each other. Some steal glances at Cortez while others are throwing me looks…nasty ones!
I’m dressed in a decent body-con dress that screams anything but cheap. Maria had urged me to wear it after telling me what both occasions are—dress shopping and a dinner afterward. So I know nothing is wrong with me.
“Good morning, Mr. Donatelli,” the brunette greets, and something tells me that isn’t her normal voice. She’s making it thinner and higher pitched. I almost laugh when Cortez doesn’t spare her a glance.
“Dresses,” he commands, eyes trained on me.
“Y-Yes. Right this way, sir.” The brunette leads us to a space of crescent-shaped stands, obviously made out of the highest quality of wood. Lights fall off the dresses, beautifully reflecting the blend of colorful materials.
She points at each section and lists the names of dresses in each. The only ones that stick with my brain are silk and sequined, so when Cortez pins me with an expectant look, I start with that section.
The first one that catches my attention is a long, sleeveless gown with a V neckline that plunges at its center. I move to grab it when a hand beats me to it. I turn to see Cortez sporting a deep frown.
“No.”
Oh?
“Since when did you become a personal shopper?” I raise a quizzical brow at him.
“I don’t like it,” he says simply.
I want to laugh and tell him I don’t give the slightest fuck about what he thinks, but decide against it. This is not the place.
Pressing my lips into a thin line, I grab another dress. It’s a backless black dress with thin straps.
“The dressing room is over there, ma’am,” the brunette gestures towards a glamorous, gold-plated fitting room. In a few strides, I reach it, enter, tug my gown off, and replace it with the dress, admiring myself in the mirror.
In the front, the dress clings to my body, highlighting my curves. The back is the same except that the part where the dress starts is sitting right on the curve of my ass, leaving just enough to the eyes.
Good! I love it.
When I step outside, it’s just Cortez. His gaze stays sharp on my frame, eyes roaming my body like he owns me.
“What? Did you send the brunette away, too, with your bad attitude?” I joke to hide the subtle shivers his stare is causing my body.
“Turn around,” he grunts. I hold my breath, his command forcing my body against my will.
Silence thickens the air as I stand there with my back to him until I feel his breath on my neck. Slowly, he swipes my hair to the side, trailing his thumb down my spine to the exposed curve of my ass.
For some unreasonable reason, I seem unable to control my body’s reactions as goosebumps appear on my skin, my core clenches with heat, and I feel his breathing strain. “No,” he grunts thickly.
Of course. I’m beginning to wonder how many no’s I’ll get before securing a dress.
“Why not?” I turn to him and release a deep breath when I take in our proximity.
“I don’t like it,” he voices monotonously.
I scoff. “That is not enough reason for me to drop the dress, especially if I like it.”
He slams his hand against the dresser, eyes growing dark as he growls dangerously. “How about so I don’t have to shoot someone for looking at your ass?”
My breath rushes out sharply. I try to speak, but the words are stuck in my throat. I don’t know if it’s from the intensity of his words or his stare.