He took a step closer to me again, and my stomach swirled while I fought the urge to run or… maybe kiss him again. Pathetic. Mess. It was legit.
His eyes were hooded as he leaned in closer, the smirk remaining in place. “If you disappear on me again, Bella,” he drawled smoothly, and I shivered at the sudden chill in the air. “I won’t hesitate to fuck you back to life, do you understand? I need you to get your head in the game, and I need it now. There’s no room for error here, or we’re both dead. Do you fucking understand?”
I was nodding, but in my mind, all I could hear was fuck you back to life. Why did my body tighten at that sentence, and not in fear… How could I feel anything for this man, who was a stranger to me now and part of the very family who was working hard to destroy me.
Fighting the urge to scream, I choked on my next breath before taking off from the room and heading toward my private quarters. Angelo had given me my own room, bathroom, and that huge walk-in closet. It was more than I’d ever had before, and I was craving the security, false as it may be, that I felt inside my prison.
When I stumbled into my room, I slammed the door behind me and leaned back against it. For a second, I thought there was a flash of light from outside my window, but when I crossed to close the curtains, I could see nothing on the other side of the small balcony.
Unsure what to do, my energy roiling inside, I paced back and forth across the room, my feet sinking into the plush gray carpet, as I fought the urge to scream. My skin pulsed, itching, irritating me until I had to resist the urge to scratch away at my own flesh, scouring it from muscle and bone.
What the hell was Angelo thinking, kissing me, stirring up old memories, his hands pressing into my flesh hard enough that I could still feel the touch against my skin? How fucking dare he! How dare he think he had the right to fuck me back to life. I didn’t need him. I didn’t need any of them.
In the end, I only had myself to rely on, and that was never going to change, no matter how many gorgeous, rich, and talented men popped in and out of my life. My uber independence had been learned the hard way, and if anything, the last few months had only reinforced this concept.
I hadn’t heard from one member of Bellerose. Not one of them had tried to contact me after Angelo forced me to send a message. At least not that I knew of.
I couldn’t blame them since they no doubt believed I had taken off and left them, but they also knew that I’d been threatened with kidnapping. I had actually been kidnapped, and still there was no word of them checking in on me. Had my little video message really been so convincing? Where were the men who fought for their woman? I was a shitty actress and thought for sure they’d see right through my please don’t look for me, I’m happy here bullshit.
A bitter laugh escaped as I finally slowed, the red marks bright on my forearms where I’d scraped my nails across the skin in the hopes of easing my turmoil. I’d been with Rhett for a few weeks. It was nothing in the scheme of life. Gray and I had barely even been together, and Jace… well, Jace had more reason to hate me than anyone.
Throwing myself a pity party because none of those rockstars ran to my rescue was pathetic, and since I barely had a shred of dignity left to my name, I needed to sort what remained of my self-worth immediately.
I could give up a lot in the name of staying alive, but what would be the point if I lost every part of myself along the way? Might as well confess to the facade now and take the punishment for it. If it wasn’t for the fact that I’d implicate Angelo in this as well…
But at least I understood now why he’d kissed me.
I’d been spiraling. I’d been losing myself to the dark fog in my head, and there was no time for that. No time and no chance of surviving this farce with Angelo.
I had to get it together now, and the first step to that was showering and picking out a dress.
It was charity gala night, and I was going to be there.
six
BILLIE
I was starting to think torture by the Ricci goons was preferable to charity galas.
“Waitress, I’ll take a glass of chardonnay. Get it to me while it’s still cold this time.”
I eyed the leggy brunette, the twentieth person to attempt to order a drink from me, and shot her a winning smile. “Absolutely, no problem. I’ll be right back.”
Some funny fucker had arranged for every member of Valentina’s family, the Altissimos, who were scattered about liberally, to treat me like a paid server. Not even good enough to be the whorey mistress, I was now the hired help.
Which, actually, didn’t offend me at all. I’d been the hired help for most of my life, and it was good, honest work. If anything, I was amused by their little game, which only occurred whenever Angelo had been ferried off by his father to talk shop with some of the VIPs in the room. Despite his words about protecting me from everyone here, he could only do so much when he was working.
At least no one had thrown their wine at me this time, so that was a win. Walking away from the chardonnay lady, I arched my back, stretching out the ache developing there. Needing the bathroom, thanks to the multiple waters I’d consumed in my bid to remain awake amidst the glitz and glamor, I headed in the direction of the restrooms, wishing I was anywhere but here.
Not just here, but here and sober. Was there a worse combination?
Everything felt uncomfortable as I stumbled my way through the crowd. My Saint Laurent pumps were only a few inches high, but I wasn’t used to heels. Or the slinky black Chanel dress that hugged my small bump, boobs, and butt like a second skin.
If it wasn’t for the sleeves to my wrists and high neckline, I’d have felt half naked in this number—despite it being far more conservative than many of the dresses in this room. Apparently, charity events were the fancier version of Halloween: a perfect excuse for a chick to lose as many parts of her clothing as possible and not be called a whore.
That label was saved for me these days. Whore and waitress.
Eh, I’d probably been called worse.
Angelo had kept all social media and news articles from crossing my path since I’d been delivered into his possession, but no doubt the media was having a field day with my sudden departure from Bellerose. I could only imagine the headlines after being the first girl to “date” Rhett Silver in forever.
I was being watched closely as I walked through the large ballroom and managed to enter one of the smaller bathrooms. For the first time tonight, I had a little luck, as it was completely empty.
It took more than a few minutes to maneuver myself into a position to pee without destroying my dress. This pregnancy shit was harder than I’d expected. When I emerged and started to wash my hands at the sink, barely even glancing at the pale shadow of a reflection in the mirror, the door to the room opened. Noise entered briefly with the new occupant, before fading as the door closed behind her.
Finishing up, I dried my hands on the luxurious hand towels provided, and as I turned to exit, I came face to face with a goddess. She stood a head taller than me, her heels a good six-inches high as she towered over me. She had flaming red hair, a statement piece that made my dirty-blonde curls look positively lame. Her makeup was flawless, and large, emerald eyes examined me as she pursed blood-red lips, a similar shade to her hair.