Chapter 19: The Palazzo Medici
1238 Words
Nadia’s POV
I snap my eyes open as I force myself to wake up from the horrible nightmare i just had. There was blood everywhere, on the floor, on the table, my hands and dress filled with blood. I get up from the bed and rub my eyes slightly.
Having tried to avoid Lorenzo the next two days that followed, it feels like my heart is somehow at peace, and he has paid me no attention either, ignoring me like I didn’t exist in the mansion. I only catch a glimpse of him whenever I look out through the window, just before he enters his SUV.
I have not dared to visit his study again, not after what happened two days ago. Even though he’s said I should go ahead and find out about the truth. It is also a firm warning that I don’t mess up. Throwing off the covers, I walk over to the window. A violent shudder racked my body as the morning breeze hit my skin from the thin gown I wore. Standing under the refreshing air for a few minutes, I headed into the bathroom.
I peel off my nightwear and stare at my reflection in the floor-length mirror. The girl staring back at me is unrecognizable. Her white skin is flush, and a faint red mark lingers on her throat where his massive hand had rested two days ago. He didn’t choke me. He was almost tender, and that is the most terrifying part of Lorenzo Romano — his cruelty wears the mask of intimacy. I walk away from the mirror and enter the tub filled with warm water. Reaching for the soft sponge, I begin scrubbing my body in desperation to wipe his scent off me, just as I’ve been doing for the past two days.
I intend to ask Clara some questions about the estate when she comes around today. Staying in the tub for a few minutes, I step out and walk back to the room. A knock suddenly struck the door the exact moment I step out. My heart begins to thump harder.
“Who’s there?” I ask in a breathy voice.
“It’s Clara ma’am.”
I let out a deep sigh and push the door open for her, she walks in with a sour look on her face, a big box in her hand.
“Mr Romano sent this for you ma’am,” she explains, stretching the box out to me.
My eyebrows furrow in confusion as I take the box from her and walk to the bed, setting it down. I look up at Clara. “Did he say what’s in it?”
“No ma’am. His assistant brought it over and strictly warned me not to open it,” she says, fear evident in her eyes.
My gaze hovers over the box, my mind in battle whether I should open the box or not. What if there’s something dangerous in it? Maybe a human head? I lift my trembling hands and slowly loosen the ribbon, then I flung the box open, taking my eyes away. I wait for a while then I look back at it — A dress, embedded with shimmering crystals, a matching pair of heels and a letter. My heart sinks instantly. Why did he send me a dress? I look up at Clara and her expression is just as surreal as mine. I pick the letter and open it.
~ Be ready at four. A driver will bring you to the charity gala at the Palazzo Medici. You will play the perfect role of a Don’s wife. Do not embarrass me.
— L ~
A charity gala? What is that exactly? Does he really have to threaten me? I take my gaze to the wall-clock and it is past eleven.
“Do you know anything about the Palazzo Medici charity gala, Clara?” I ask, looking at her with wide eyes.
She shakes her head vigorously in response. “No ma’am. But it sounds like something that only the elites would attend,” she says. “And ma’am, you must be careful. Other rival mafia gangs might also attend.”
A rival mafia?
Since this is a thing for the wealthy, why bring me along? Is he trying to humiliate me in public? Trying to make me see how powerful his world is and how I’m actually different from it? Sighing numbly, I drop the letter back in the box. Four p.m. I still have a few hours left. I look up at Clara and decide to ask her some questions.
“How long have you worked here, Clara?” I ask, fixing my gaze on her.
“It’s been three years now ma’am,” she responds. Three years. No wonder he assigned her to serve me. She’s been here for quite a long time.
“Does Lorenzo have any other family relatives in the country — well, except his uncle, peter?”
“Well… ma’am. The thing is… we are forbidden to speak about his family. The last girl who made that mistake had her tongue cut off by Mr Romano.”
Clara says, her voice trembling terribly. I couldn’t urge her further seeing the situation of things. He is so cruel.
“It’s fine Clara. Please come help me get ready at three.” I murmur, giving her a weak smile. She nods and walks out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.
I let out the trapped, shaky breath I’ve been holding in. My hands move to touch the fabric sitting in the box. It feels very soft as my fingers brush slightly against it. All this luxury, but it doesn’t really belong to me. I fall back on the bed, letting my thoughts take over. What plans does he have for the gala? I just hope he doesn’t kill anyone today.
The rest of the day goes quickly. Clara comes at sharp three to help me get ready. The black gown looks beautiful on me, bringing out every curve on my body. Is this what he wants? Making me feel exposed in public?
“The driver is here, ma’am,” Clara whispers, handing over a small black designer bag. I take it from her and walk out out of the room to the awaiting car.
The drive to the Palazzo Medici takes about two hours, the sun has already gone down when we arrive. The entire surrounding of the palace is crowded as I look out from the window, hesitant to step out. The charity gala haven’t started yet. Men and women of class and luxury hovering around. Where exactly do I fit in all of this?
“Please step out, Mrs Romano. The Don is waiting,” the driver says.
Waiting? Where is he?
I swallow the heavy lump that forms in my throat , then I open the door and step out. The moment I did, all eyes are fixed on me. I stand rooted to a spot as they all look at me, whispering and pointing at my direction. My hands grip my bag so tightly my knuckles ache.
“Well… well, Mrs Romano. I never expected to see you here.”
A very familiar voice rumbles behind me. I turn around swiftly to meet the burning gaze of a pair of eyes filed with lust.
My heart stops instantly.
- Writer
