The Social Guillotine
972 Words
Elara's POV
Wear some clothes, goddamn it!
Dante didn't move to cover himself. Instead, he simply stood there, outlined against the candle light streaming into the room.
"You're pathetic," he finally said, squatting down to grab his towel and wrapping it around his hips in a casual gesture. "Have you never seen a naked man before?”
“Asshole,” I spat.
“You have a bold mouth for someone who's close to dying,” He warned.
“Then kill me.”
He stopped walking and turned around, his cold eyes glaring into mine. He walked forward and pinned me to the wall.
I groaned, feeling his hard hand on my shoulder. “Would you now?”
His hand crept to my neck and squeezed. I choked, my hand fighting his, slapping and scratching.
Then he let go. I coughed, falling to my knees.
“Seems you're not ready to die,” he mocked. He took the keycard off the table and flung it to the bed. “You had better get used to being stuck with me or better still, run or see how far you get.”
I looked at the card, and then at the door. "You're letting me go?"
Dante laughed, a dark, empty sound. "I’m letting you try. There are twenty guards between this room and the gate, Elara. They answer only to me. If you get past them then you're free.”
I was tempted to take the offer but I didn't trust him.
I gazed at my bare feet and then at the heavy lace on my dress.
He was right. I would not get past the first corridor. I was a bird in a cage, and he was merely shaking the bars to see me flutter.
"Good choice," he said, noting the defeat in my shoulders. He took out his phone and gave a few orders into it before turning back to me.
"Get dressed. We have a charity ball to attend. It's time for the world to meet the new Mrs. Rinaldi," he said.
An hour passed, and I found myself standing in front of the mirror, hardly able to believe the woman I was seeing.
A crew of beauticians had swarmed around me, turning my tear-stained face into perfection.
I wore an emerald green silk dress that hugged my body like a second skin, with the deep V-neckline displaying more flesh than I cared for.
My hair had been pulled back into an elegant bun, with loose curls cascading around my face.
"You look. acceptable," Dante said, surprising me by appearing behind me. He wore a charcoal gray suit that made his eyes resemble diamonds.
He clamped a diamond tennis bracelet on my wrist and his fingers traced my pulse point.
~
We arrived at the luxurious hotel. The gala was on the fourth floor. Dante went out first, and then offered me his hand.
"Smile, Elara," he whispered, as I stepped onto the red carpet. "Don't look like a slave.”
I forced a smile, my lips drawing stiff and awkward line. I pushed into the ballroom, hand in hand with Dante..
Dante’s hand landed on my back, claiming me.
"Dante! You scoundrel! You actually did it!" A young blonde man with a laughing face and wicked eyes drew near us. "And who's this lovely woman?”
"My wife, Elara," Dante introduced smoothly and proudly. "Elara, this is Luca, my oldest friend and business partner."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," I murmured, shaking his hand.
~
The longer the night went on, the more I felt like I was the trophy he was proudly showing off.
Dante led the way with an effortless confidence, drawing the eye wherever he went. I excused myself to the bar and I soon slipped away from him.
“A bit overwhelmed, my dear?” asked a smooth, melodic voice.
I turned to find a handsome slim middle-aged man with silvery streaks in his dark hair and a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
He wore a black suit similar to Dante's.
"I'm fine," I answered, taking a sip of my champagne.
“My name is Silvio Moretti, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. And, of course, you must be the legendary Elara.”
He kept talking while I offered a warm smile. “It seems Dante has impeccable taste. It is unfortunate that a lovely woman such as yourself is alone.”
He reached out his hand, which hovered over my arm. “Do you care to dance?”
I hesitated then reached to take his hand when someone slapped his hand.
Dante’s placed himself between us, his body acting as a barrier. "I think I made myself clear on what would happen should you ever find yourself on my property again."
“Property? How old-fashioned you are, Dante,” Silvio sneered. “I was only extending the lady an invitation to dance.”
"The only man who dances with my wife,” Dante slipped his hand around my waist, pulling me close. A tiny gasp escaped my lips. "is me."
He turned me away from Silvio, towards the dance floor. The music played a slow, mournful waltz.
Dante pulled me into his arms, his broad hand flat against my back, his other hand tightly clasping mine.
"Who was that?" I whispered, my heart pounding.
“A snake,” Dante answered, his eyes locked on mine. “And if I ever find you talking to him again, I'll show you exactly how I handle traitors.”
He turned me around, and the world spun as he twirled me.
I waltzed through the floor with him, frightened by his angry stare. His hand slid lower, making me yelp and he whispered, his lips touching my ear.
"You're mine, Elara. Never forget that."
- Writer
