Chapter 1 #2
Against the far wall is a black leather sofa with a chrome and glass table next to it. Abstract paintings line the walls, violent splashes of color on stark white canvases. They resemble blood spatter. I'm guessing that's the point.
Being left alone in Damiano's office feels like a test I have no idea how to pass. Should I sit, stand, prostrate myself on the floor ready to beg for forgiveness?
Before I can tangle myself in knots, the door opens. I spin around as Damiano walks into the room, immaculately dressed as always. His three-piece suit fits his imposing frame perfectly. There's something about a man in a vest that makes my knees wobble.
Not a single dark brown hair is out of place.
The model businessman, he wears shoes that cost more than my monthly rent.
A platinum watch gleams against his tanned wrist. He projects an image of influence and wealth, but the respectable facade is a lie that fools no one. This man has done terrible things.
As the door clicks shut behind him, I smile tremulously, trying to remind him I'm not his enemy.
"Violetta." He draws my name out in a deliberate purr.
For a fleeting moment, I imagine him standing behind me, his arm locked around my chest, whispering in my ear. Mine. I banish the thought. A man like him would eat me alive.
"You wanted to see me?" I congratulate myself on the steadiness of my voice.
"Yes."
His gaze drags slowly down my body. I'm used to men looking at me, but this is different. I'm not being admired. Damiano is assessing me, like he's trying to decide if I'm an asset or a liability.
Nervous, I shift my weight from one foot to the other.
"Why are you wearing that?" he asks coolly.
Is that why he wanted to see me? Does he not know what I did?
"Paolo's thinking of making it the new uniform. He asked me to test it tonight, see what the customers think."
Damiano's lip curls in disdain. "You look like you're selling yourself. This is not the image I want for the club."
The irritation in his voice makes me flinch. He's overreacting. The uniform Paolo had me wear consists of slim-fitting black pants, a red corset, and four-inch patent leather heels. It's sexier than the usual red dress the VIP hostesses wear, but it's not as if I'm parading about in my lingerie.
"Take it up with Paolo!" I snap before I can stop myself. "He told me to wear it."
Damiano raises an eyebrow, and I wince.
"Sorry, signore."
"Damiano." His voice is like a caress. "You're sorry, Damiano."
"Yes, Damiano. I'm sorry. Will that be all?"
He snorts derisively. "I didn't call you in here to discuss your clothing."
For a long beat, he just stares at me. My body becomes so tense I could snap in two. I'm on the verge of blurting out a confession when he reaches for my hair, wrapping a strand around his fingers. I gasp, unsure what's happening.
"You dyed your hair."
The observation throws me off guard. I nod.
"Elena told me blondes get better tips."
It certainly works for her but, unfortunately, the color doesn't suit me.
"You have to cheapen yourself for tips?" Damiano's tone is challenging. "Do I not pay you enough?"
"The wages here are excellent, but I need to save money for college."
He tilts his head to one side.
"To study what?"
"Law, business, economics, maybe."
They're the subjects my mother told me I should consider, the ones I can build a career on. None of them enthuses me, but I'm not a teenager anymore and I need to get to work on creating a better future for myself.
"And if you could study what you actually want?" Damiano's perceptiveness is uncanny.
"Theater studies."
I hate how apologetic I sound. Since I was a little girl, I've loved going to see all sorts of shows. My dream was to become a critic. My mother's contempt ruined that.
"Turning blonde won't get you there." He untangles his fingers from my hair. "And nor will betraying me."
The breath whooshes from my lungs as he springs his trap. For a moment I allowed myself to believe I'd got away with my foolish mistake.
Damiano's lips flatten.
"Tell me, Violetta, did you let Gianotti know my cousin's woman was coming here tonight?"
"Gianotti?" That must be the name of the man I released. "I don't know any Gianotti."
"Are you sure, Violetta? Because you're the only person who knew Giulia was coming here tonight."
"The men who brought her here must have known."
Damiano inclines his head.
"But none of them helped him escape, did they?"
I can see how this looks bad for me.
"I felt sorry for him."
Damiano scoffs. "You expect me to believe that's why you let him go?"
"He's just a boy."
Unable to look him in the eye as his expression hardens, I stare down at the floor.
"Kindness is rare in this world, Violetta." He steps closer. "So, tell me, who were you helping, him or yourself?"
"What do you mean?"
"You already told me you needed more money. Is that why you betrayed me, or was there some other reason?"
I shake my head as tears start to fall.
"I didn't betray you. I wouldn't."
Damiano doesn't respond. He walks to the door and opens it to let Riccardo in. Nothing good happens once he gets involved.
"Take her."
"No, please." Terror sweeps through my body. My knees give way, and I drop to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. "Damiano, please, I didn't do anything."
"Come on," Riccardo murmurs as he grabs my wrists and hauls me to my feet. "You're only making things worse."
Does he imagine I'm breaking down on purpose?
"Damiano, please!" I scream as Riccardo drags me from the room.
I try to fight my way back to the only man who can save me, but my attempts are worthless against Riccardo's superior strength. When I anger him by continuing to struggle, he curses and throws me over his shoulder.
He takes me outside and drops me on the back seat of a car before getting in next to me. I scramble for the door, but Riccardo grabs a fistful of my hair and yanks me back, kicking and screaming as I fight for my life.
"I really didn't want to do this, Violetta."
There's no time to consider what he means. Something sharp pricks the side of my neck. A heaviness settles over me. In the distance I hear the thump of music from the club. Then I’m pulled down into darkness.