Daylan
I lift the whisky glass to my lips and let the warm amber liquid burn down my throat, hoping it will lessen my desire to slit the short, stubby man’s throat beside me.
All I wanted was a little peace and quiet at this god-awful event my mother made me attend by hiding out in the private bar.
Unfortunately, that has meant putting up with the putrid smell of his aftershave and the gnawing of his gum between gulps of his own alcohol.
His belly makes it almost impossible to reach the bar from his perch on a leather stool, and my nose wrinkles.
How does anyone ever get that disgusting. Surely a family member would have stepped in to give him a helping hand. My eyes flick to his left hand and find a gold band.
Someone fucks this man willingly.
Then again, being back at home in Italy, at an event like this, and judging from the expensive suit, diamonds and Rolex on his wrist, she might not be all that willing.
I signal the bartender for another as the man next to me breathes as though he is walking up a flight of stairs and chuckles to the man beside him. My fingers twitch to grab my knife, but I clench my hands to ease the growing pressure.
Ever since coming back home from Marrowton Academy things have gotten much worse.
It always is when I am around my father.
My family responsibilities are growing by the day as he throws everything at me.
At the same time, my mother pressures me into picking a woman to marry like I am picking a prize-winning cow at the county fair.
Even with all my efforts of making myself less of a catch in the eyes of society, it won’t matter soon enough, if I don’t pick in the next few months then my mother will choose one for me.
I couldn’t care a less either way. I have always known this would be one of the many shitty duties of this family I have to uphold.
Just like my father and his before that.
All I have to do is pick one, marry her, give her a space on the other side of the family compound and then knock out a few sprogs to pass on the lineage.
Done.
But, for me it’s not that simple.
How could it be when she is all I can see.
All I have ever seen.
As soon as the bartender places the glass in front of me, I knock it back, letting the liquid warm my chest to cover the unexpected racing of my heart only thinking about her.
I slam the glass down and it cracks.
“Easy boy,” the disgusting pig beside me snaps. “This isn’t the place,”
I turn to show him my face from where I hide in the dim light. If he knew who I was then he wouldn’t dare speak to me without being addressed first.
I open my mouth as his eyes widen in recognition. He holds his hands up in protest and his mouth starts moving, but I can’t hear him.
I no longer see him.
Because as if the universe heard my thoughts; there she is. Hair swinging in her high ponytail as she laughs along with a table of people. She isn’t dressed for the event happening in the grand ballroom. No, she wouldn’t be invited to one of those.
Yet, she still shines like a priceless diamond, while wearing jeans and an off the shoulder jumper.
A vision. My angel.
The reason for my misery.
My stomach sours as I watch a man with glasses and a scruffy beard touch her bare shoulder and lean into whisper. She doesn’t flinch at the touch, like it happens all the time, like he has the right.
I stand from my barstool and straighten my suit jacket as the man beside me still drawls on and apologises.
I walk past him and shoo him away with my hand, as though he was an annoying bug, and to me he is. A nothing. A nobody.
I calm my rising rage as I slowly prowl in her direction, a predator stalking its prey.
Only this prey isn’t as delicate and weak as she seems. No. She is deadly. To me most definitely.
But that never seems to stop the pull in my chest. The one that has been there for as long as I remember.
This time is different. It’s laced with resentment and betrayal. It has taken ahold more with every year that has passed since I last looked into those beautiful doe eyes of hers.
She shouldn’t be here. Not just here in the bar.
Here as in Rome.
I told her never to come back. That she would never be welcome in my city again.
The last time I spoke to her face to face, I made it clear she should never return. Watched as her eyes filled with tears when I turned my back on her and her family.
“If I see you here again. I will destroy you!”
Those were the last words between us.
Yet here she is.
Instead of heading over to the table as I had planned, I turn and walk through the doors to the bar and back to the main event. An event I know she would no longer be welcomed at, because my family made sure of it.
A devious smirk lifts my lips and for the first time in a long time, a flicker of excitement fills my body, and its bazar. The only time I have ever felt it in the past thirteen years is when I do the jobs my father asks of me. The jobs that leave my hands stained and another notch on my soul card.
And yet, my angel has ignited me without even sparing me a glance.
I thought coming back to Rome was the end of my life. Looks like that might all change.
“Game on Angel”.
Find out what happens between Daylan and Serefina in book two.
Release date coming soon…