Dirty Secrets

Episode 3

"Oh no, Leila, what have you gotten yourself into?" I muttered to myself, anxiety creeping in. The voice on the call was unmistakable—it sounded just like Damon's bodyguard from last night, the same man who had pulled me away from the dance floor. His voice still echoed vividly in my mind.

What does he want? Or, more importantly, what does his boss want this time?

My mind flashed back to the moment I saw the "S" inscription on my thigh. What could that symbol possibly mean?

Panic set in as my heart began to race, and my hands started to tremble uncontrollably. A wave of fear surged through me.

Have I unknowingly been initiated into something sinister? A cold shiver ran from my head down to my toes. I wished Nonna were here; I needed to tell her how terrified I am feeling.

My phone rang again. At this point, I knew I wouldn’t be able to take a bath, despite how exhausted I felt. I was paralyzed by fear—the call from Mister Bodyguard and the "S" mark on my thigh left me frozen.

It was Mom calling. I answered,

“Hey Leila, I’m heading out. La'Belle needs me for a wedding fitting tomorrow. I’m so sorry for everything, sweetie; let’s try to reconnect when I get back. I left some pasta on the counter for you.”

“Okay,” I replied and ended the call. If only she knew how I was feeling right now. She didn’t sound apologetic at all; it felt like she just wanted to inform me that she was going out.

It's already half-past eleven in the morning, and I'm still unsure about meeting Mister Bodyguard at the Dolphin Restaurant. Dolphin is a very upscale place, often referred to as a restaurant for the wealthy. Damon must be an incredibly rich man. I'm even beginning to suspect he might be involved in something shady, possibly a mafia, judging by the group of men with him last night and the luxurious car they were driving.

The last thing I need right now is to be associated with a mafia, especially not in Milan. These men are dangerous, driven by their desire to control the city for their own selfish gains.

No, I can't do this. Without hesitation, I pick up my phone and block the bodyguard's number.

…

I managed to take a bath and finally get some sleep. The cozy atmosphere of my room always ensures a good rest. I'm really happy I chose the sea-blue wallpaper; it makes the room feel both warm and inviting—exactly the way I want it to be.

It's already five o'clock in the evening, and I'm glad I didn't honor Mr. Bodyguard's invitation. I feel much more relieved now.

Another thought keeps creeping into my mind: the possibility of being pregnant with Damon's child. I quickly push it aside. I can’t even begin to imagine that—having a child with a man I barely know, let alone love.

Besides, it's not even been 24 hours since our encounter. How could I possibly know if I’m pregnant? It usually takes about a week to find out.

There’s no doubt I had some fun last night, but I should have been more careful with how much I drank. Then I wouldn’t have anything to worry about.

A sudden knock on the door jolted me out of my thoughts.

“Who’s there?” I called out.

“It’s me. Someone’s here to see you,” Anderson’s voice echoed from the hallway.

Who could it be? I have no friends, so there’s no one who would come to visit me. I quickly stood up and slipped on my favorite burnt orange shorts that Nonna got me a month before she passed. I cherish them so much and would never throw them away. I even plan to keep them for my future daughter. What a funny thing to imagine.

By the time I stepped out of my room, Anderson was gone, so I walked downstairs to the parlor. The sight of the person waiting for me sent shivers down my spine—it was Mr. Bodyguard.

How did he know where I live? This is getting more serious than I thought. How in the world did he find me?

I stood frozen on the last step.

"Hi, Bellissima," he said with a smile. "I guess you missed our appointment at Dolphin Restaurant, so I figured I’d come see you here."

At this point, my heart was in my throat. I wanted to jump out of my skin—or better yet, disappear entirely.

"What do you want?" I managed to ask.

He smiled and stood up, walking towards me. "I don’t want anything, Bellissima. I’m just following orders."

I realized he was referring to Damon’s orders.

"My boss insists that I bring you to see him before the end of today, so if you don’t mind, could you come with me?"

This guy must think I’m some kind of puppet. What nerve!

"I'm sorry," I managed to say. "I can’t go with you. I have other things I need to take care of today."

Of course, that was a lie. I had nothing planned; I just needed him out of the house before my mother returned.

A sarcastic smile played on his lips. Where is Anderson, anyway? Why would he leave me alone with a stranger? Sometimes I wonder why Anderson is so laid-back. I have no idea how he even got hired by my mother, considering she’s someone who can't tolerate anything less than perfection. Maybe she hired him to test her patience, because I can’t think of any other reason she would choose someone like him.

At this point, I was extremely uncomfortable. Mr. Bodyguard was standing right in front of me, his expression demanding more of an answer. I wished Anderson were here—I had a sinking feeling this guy meant to harm me.

"You don't know what you've become now, Bellissima," he continued, his voice calm yet unsettling. "You carry the seed of Damon inside you. It is a—"

"I carry no seed!" I cut him off sharply. "Please, I need you to leave now, or I'll call security."

There was no security—I was bluffing. All I had was Anderson. As I began to back away, moving up the staircase, I could feel my heart pounding.

"Chulo, don't make this harder than it already is. I don't want to hurt you. You're now our boss's wife-to-be, and I wouldn't want to lose my job," he said.

What is he talking about? What does he mean by "boss's wife"?

"All he seeks is your audience, just some time to spend with his future bride."

I stopped in my tracks, realizing how delusional this man and his boss, Damon—or whatever he calls himself—must be.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and I don't care to know," I responded, my voice trembling. Panic was setting in. I gripped the staircase rail tightly, my hands slick with sweat. Where was Anderson? I needed someone to save me from this nightmare.

Mr. Bodyguard followed me cautiously as I continued to back up the stairs. I tripped and nearly lost my balance.

"Easy there, Chulo. I can't imagine our new bride with bruises on her skin," he said, a twisted smile on his face.

The moment I reached the top of the stairs, I tried to run. I grabbed the handle of my door, but it was too late—Mr. Bodyguard was already behind me. He grabbed me forcefully and pressed a piece of cloth over my face. Everything went black.

---

Hours later, I woke up in a large room. The massive wall clock in front of me indicated that time had passed. I struggled to open my eyes fully, but a burning sensation made it difficult.

Where am I? The scene of Mr. Bodyguard grabbing me and covering my face with that cloth flashed back, and a wave of despair washed over me. What have I gotten myself into? Was it a crime to have a little fun?

Who are these people? I began to sob, tears streaming down my face. I tried to raise my hands to wipe them away, but to my horror, I realized my hands were tied behind my back.

"Oh, my love, Bellissima, why did you let him do this to you?" a voice spoke, eerily calm. It sounded like Damon, the boss. I looked around, trying to locate where the voice was coming from.

The room was lavishly furnished. The sofas literally glittered, and the wallpaper screamed luxury. The glass table in front of me looked like something out of my mom’s photoshoots—only rented for special occasions. The fact that Damon had it as part of his home decor said a lot.

I heard the voice again, and this time I spotted him, standing in a far corner of the room, smiling at me. It was Damon. My eyes must be playing tricks on me—he looked different, almost unrecognizable.