When I wasn’t at school, I barely left my room. I buried myself between my books and music, studying and practicing harder than ever. Nicky thought I was working hard to score a Bellomo full ride like she did.
Since we got into Bellomo, we’d been conditioned to believe scoring a scholarship from them was the ultimate goal—the only chance to go to college. The program was the best, and anybody would kill to win one of their scholarships because it covered everything. We, program kids and Bellomo students, were given a head start to secure one.
The only limitation was Bellomo’s scholarships were exclusive to the schools in the state. Nicky and I had never thought about leaving Chicago before so that was never a problem. Now, things had become different for me.
I never wanted to stay away from my sister, and if she knew I decided to explore more college options outside of Illinois, she’d freak. But I had more than one reason to leave town.
First, I didn’t want to rely on Bellomo anymore. Not after I knew for sure I was living my own version of Great Expectations.
Second, Don Bellomo’s assumption was a wakeup call. He read through my mind like an open book. Despite all that had happened, deep inside, I was still waiting for him to come back.
If I stayed here, I’d never get over my twisted need to see him again. Every place I went to reminded me of him. My school, my own room… If I had any chance of forgetting and healing, I needed to get out of here.
Every free second I had, I practiced for the university auditions in the summer and applied for all the scholarships I’d found, which for music majors weren’t many, and nothing was a full ride like Bellomo. I didn’t mind. I’d work my butt off to make it happen.
Even if it didn’t, college wasn’t a life goal for me like Nicky. I didn’t have to prove to the world that the poor Baldi girl had gone to college and found her place among the elite. I’d be happy to find a job anywhere, playing my violin, making a living on my own, in peace, away from monsters.
That is if no new monster finds their way to the psycho stalker magnet I am in the year and four months I still had left here.
As I walked to my locker, I thought about transferring for my senior year. I couldn’t afford an expensive, private academy like mine or a conservatory, but public schools were just fine. None would have a music program like here, though. That could hurt my chances big time, but a year and four months was a long time to stay in this mess.
I went to Mrs. Emmanuelle, the principal’s secretary, and, discreetly, asked her about transfer procedures. I didn’t want the word to travel to Nicky. She’d be shocked.
Mrs. Emmanuelle was shocked, too. She spent fifteen minutes talking me out of it even though I tried to make her buy I was only asking and wasn’t planning on going through with it. I left the office without any useful information, but she set me an appointment with the principal to discuss my options further. I had no doubt he wouldn’t help either.
If he didn’t, I wouldn’t have it in my heart to push it. I owed Bellomo everything, no matter how notorious they’d turned out to be. It’d be ungrateful if I left without their consent. However, Bellomo, all of a sudden, seemed to be a prison rather than a protective luxurious vault. Once you were in, you couldn’t get out until you’d served your time.
Well, Sebastiano Bellomo was the Mafia. What did I expect? He treated everything he owned with the same code. Private. Strict. Elite. Exclusive.
Confined.
No one could break free.
My mind drifted to the mystery that was Sebastiano Bellomo. The most beautiful man I’d ever seen. The most powerful and dangerous, too. I used to think he was the most dangerous man I’d ever meet. I was wrong. If anyone was his match, it was Don Sebastiano. The mobster that had been to all my recitals and was concerned with my safety as if it was his purpose in life. The man with the sharpest blue eyes that pierced right through me with their kindness before their peril.
The perfection of his features, the masculinity of his beard that gave his cheekbones and lips extra hotness. Like he needed more of that. I was never taken by facial hair before until I…
I slapped the memory away and focused on the man with the panty-melting accent and angel tattoos on the back of both his hands; I noticed the other one the day he visited me at home. Why would a man so badass like him choose tattoos so tamed and gentle? Why would he be so kind and caring with me? Why was he willing to protect me from his own son instead of taking his side?
A long list of whys racked up in my head, and the answers would never be mine. Leo and his dad were a brief chapter in my life that wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place and would forever remain incomplete.
As curious as I was to find the answers to my questions, I decided Don Sebastiano—God, even his name was hot. Bellomo literally translated into beautiful man. Was anything about him not sexy?—was a riddle not meant to be solved or all the appeal would be lost.
It was enough for me to know that someone like him cared about someone like me when he didn’t have to.
I texted Nicky to tell her I’d booked the theatre today and would be late at practice. Then I switched off my phone and started Biber’s Mystery Sonatas. Dedicated to the mystery man, my Abel Magwitch, Don Sebastiano.
I played until I became one with the chords. No more monsters. No more darkness. No more debts or cages. Just me and the music, shutting the whole world out, losing track of time.
A loud click disrupted my peace, bringing me back to the real world. “Miss Baldi, it’s after nine. We have to close.”
Lifting a hand to my forehead, I squinted into the spotlight flaring in my eyes. I couldn’t make out the voice or the face of who said that, but it must have been the janitor or one of the Drama teachers responsible for the theatre.
“Okay. Sorry. I’m heading out now.” I gathered my things, and the lights went out before I even finished.
“Seriously? You couldn’t just wait one more minute?” I mumbled as I looked for my phone. When I switched it back on, the battery was at two percent. I rolled my eyes and carried my backpack and violin case, not trying to turn on the flashlight. The phone would be dead in a second, and I wouldn’t even have the light from the screen.
As I took the shortcut backstage, the soreness in my fingers, neck and feet from playing and standing all these hours hit me all at once. When I was lost in the music, I couldn’t feel any of it. I couldn’t feel anything other than the rush of the melody. A psycho stalker magnet like me should have been more aware of her surroundings at all times. I couldn’t afford to lose myself like that.
But I was safe now. The word I was never able to believe was finally real. My father was gone. Both my stalkers were gone. I was sa—
My voice was stifled in my throat along with my gasp. For a second, I didn’t know what was happening. Then the shock faded a fraction as a heavy hand over my mouth and an arm around my waist dragged me in the dark.
I kicked and screamed in vain. My cries were muffled, and no one was at the theater to hear them anyway. The body pressing my whole front against the cold surface it hit was much stronger than I was, holding me tighter with every resistant move I made.
My phone fell down, rendering the place pitch black. I jerked my body one more time in a feeble attempt to break free from the attacker’s grasp, my palms on the coldness I now realized was a wall.