You don't see her
1141 Words
Dante's POV
I stormed through the hallways, my patience hanging by a thread.My cousin, Bella had crossed a line tonight, and she would answer for it. That girl was mine to handle. Something told me there was more to her than met the eye, and I wasn’t about to let anyone touch her without my say-so.
The moment I pushed open Bella’s door, I saw her resting like she had no care in the world, swirling a glass of red wine as if she hadn’t just stepped out of line.
"Why did you hurt her?" My voice was low, but it held the weight of a thousand unspoken threats.
Bella didn’t even flinch. She just tilted her head, her lips curling into that infuriating smile she always wore when she wanted to push my buttons. "Who? Oh, you mean the girl?" She let out a light laugh. "You’re really asking me that?"
I clenched my fists. "You know exactly who I’m talking about. Why did you touch her?"
"Touch her?" Bella mocked, swirling her wine and taking a slow sip. "Please. I was doing you a favor."
"Without my permission," I ground out, stepping closer, my gaze locking with hers.
Bella raised a brow, unimpressed. She rose from her chair with a deliberate slowness, walking toward me like I was overreacting. "You’re going soft, Dante. That’s not like you." She smirked
"Since when do you care if someone roughs up a girl? You used to be a lot more... ruthless."
I grabbed her arm, yanking her closer. "Since you decided to overstep. I control this house. Not you." My voice dropped to a deadly whisper. "Don’t ever touch her again unless I say so. Understood?"
Her smirk vanished before she flinched. "Fine, fine. No need to get all worked up. But mark my words, Dante. That girl isn’t what she seems. She’s hiding something." Bella’s eyes flashed with a hint of warning. "And when she stabs you in the back, don’t say I didn’t warn you."
I turned on my heel, not bothering to respond. I was done with her excuses. I only get to touch her and Bella would pay for disobeying me if she ever pulled a stunt like that again.
*********
The garage was silent, the cold air a welcome contrast to the heat simmering inside me. My gut told me something was off about that girl's story, and I wasn’t one to ignore my instincts. She claimed she was innocent, caught in a mess her father created, but people always lied when their backs were against the wall. She might’ve been no different.
I opened the back door of the car they had thrown her into and crouched down, scanning the interior. The ropes they used to bind her were still there, tossed on the floor, but what really caught my eye was her wallet, half-hidden under the seat.
I opened it, rifling through until I found the card I hadn’t expected.
An ID.
" Vanessa Bianchi" I voiced.
I stared at it for a long moment, my mind racing. Vanessa’s picture stared back at me, but the name of the place—Gork’s Club—stung like a slap. So, she worked at a club. She was no stranger to dangerous people.
Liar.
The word lingered in my mind as I pocketed the ID. Why lie about something so important? What was she hiding?
I shut the door and walked toward the house, my thoughts swirling with questions. She was playing a game, and if there’s one thing I hate, it’s being played. But for now, I had to be patient. The meeting tonight would give me more answers.
*******
12 AM
The air in the meeting room was thick with tension as I took my place at the head of the table. The other leaders were already seated, their faces shadowed by the dim light hanging from the ceiling. Cigarette smoke curled in the air, and the quiet murmur of conversation died down the moment I entered.
"Let’s get to it," I said, my voice cutting through the silence. "We’ll replicate Vincent’s drug. He thought he could run an operation under our noses, but we have his formula now. It’s time we take control of that market."
The men around the table nodded, murmurs of agreement rippling through the room. But it didn’t take long for the conversation to shift.
"And the girl?" one of the men asked, leaning back in his chair. His beady eyes gleamed with curiosity. "What are you planning to do with her?"
I tensed, feeling the weight of their stares. "She stays with me."
A round of chuckles erupted from the group, and I felt my grip on the arm of my chair tighten.
"Stay with you?" one of the older leaders echoed, shaking his head. "Dante, she’s a pawn. Nothing more. If you’re thinking of using her, you’re wasting your time."
I locked eyes with him, my patience wearing thin. "And what would you suggest?"
"Vincent’s not dead," he said, a sly smile creeping onto his face. "He’s been pulling strings behind the scenes, playing both sides. That girl of yours? She’s bait. If Vincent wants her back, we can make him beg."
Another man spoke up, leaning forward, his grin even more sinister. "Or better yet, we take her off your hands. Bring her to our base, and let the boys have some fun with her. Or..." He dragged out the last word, pausing for effect. "You kill her. Either way, she’s useful."
My gut twisted with disgust. I couldn’t let them touch her.
I met their gazes head-on. "I’ll think about it," I said coldly, standing up from the table. I didn’t wait for their approval or their smug responses. The truth was, I’d already made up my mind.
I wasn’t letting them near her.
******
I headed back toward the room where Vanessa was being held, my thoughts clouded with frustration. The idea of handing her over to those bastards made my skin crawl. But what was I supposed to do? Keep her hidden forever? Protect her like she meant something?
No. I couldn’t allow myself to get emotionally involved. Not with her.
When I reached the door, my pulse quickened. She should be in there, tied to the chair, waiting for me to decide her fate. I gripped the handle and pushed it open, already preparing the words in my head.
But the room was empty.
Vanessa was gone.
My heart slammed in my chest, anger quickly replacing the shock. How the hell did she get free? My mind raced, already running through the possibilities. Someone helped her, or... no, she did this on her own.
A smile tugged at the corner of my lips despite the situation.
She’s clever.
But she wouldn’t get far.
- Writer
