I want to run from the house, but I absolutely must keep my composure. I could be blowing things out of proportion. We haven’t even been at the house for an hour. Yet I look between Ari and Zeno, two powerful, confident individuals, and watch as they dance to Christiano’s manic beat. I’ve yet to see either of them stand up to the man. Would they ever? What would Christiano do if they did reject his machinations? I’m not sure I’d like the answer. The entire train of thought sends me plummeting to a dark place. My contribution to the dinner conversation is mechanical at best. I chew my food without tasting it. I smile on cue and dance like a good marionette. Like Zeno and Ari and everyone else who surrounds Christiano De Bellis. By the time we pull away from the table, I’m disgusted with mys
