Property of Don Donovan

Chapter 3 - The Distraction

I am back in the room and still visibly shaken. I’m finding it really difficult to process the information I have just received. Me… A Vitale. A "lost princess." It all sounds like a load of s**t, but the way Dante looked at me in that office, like I was a problem he couldn't wait to solve… makes everything feel way too real.

After about an hour, the door swings open. No knock, nothing of course. Dante walks in, followed by a petite woman with a sharp face. The woman is holding a book, a pen and something that resembles a whip. I take a closer look, and it’s only a measuring tape.

"Get up," Dante barks at me, leaning against the doorframe, with his arms crossed over his massive chest. He always has this look… like he is constantly bored out of his mind.

I stand up immediately, clutching the hem of my oversized sweater, which is badly stained. I'm still wearing the same sweater from the previous day. The woman starts to circle around me, poking and prodding like I’m some piece of meat on a butcher’s table.

"She’s tiny," the woman comments, pulling the tape tight around my waist.

And then proceeds to say that I also look malnourished.

“Look at these ribs," she says with a concerned look on her face.

Dante’s eyes move over me in a slow and cold manner. You would think that it’s just a look of concern, but no, that’s not the case. He’s not concerned. The look he has on his face is nothing but pure disgust.

“Fix it. Cover her up in something that doesn't scream 'homeless.' My father wants to see her tonight, and I’m not presenting him with a gutter rat."

"I have a name," I manage to whisper.

Dante lets out a short, dry laugh as he steps into the room, with his heavy boots silent on the plush carpet. He walks right up to me, ignoring the tailor who immediately gives room for him to pass through. He reaches out and hooks a finger under the collar of my sweater, pulling me back with it. And then I notice the bruise on my collarbone. I must’ve gotten it during the whole kidnap situation last night.

"In this house, you’re whatever I say you are. And right now, you’re a distraction. A shiny new toy for the Old Don to obsess over while the real work gets pushed aside." he says with a very low voice, sounding dangerous.

He leans down, leaving his face only inches from mine. I want to shrink away, but my back hits the bedpost. And now I feel so small and pathetic all over again. I’m pretty sure that this is what he wants.

"So now you think you’re special because of whose blood runs through your veins, huh?" he asks.

Before I can answer, I feel his thumb graze the skin of my neck, and I can’t help the tiny gasp that escapes my throat.

"Look here, Selene… You’re nothing but a liability,. You’re soft. You’ve got 'victim' written all over your face."

He says, then he lets go of my sweater like he’s touched something filthy.

"Dress the puppy in black. Something modest but expensive. We need to hide how fragile she is before someone decides to break her just to see if she bleeds red." Dante instructs the tailor, not even looking back at me as he heads for the door.

He slams the door shut, leaving me with the tailor, and the crushing weight of being "the Vitale heir."

I catch my reflection in the full length mirror, and I see it… I actually look like a ghost. My eyes are pale, wide and tired from all the lack of sleep.

Dante was right. I am weak.….