Chapter 10 The Bravura Gala

By 5pm sharp there was a knock on my bedroom door. I sat up a bit from the bed where I had been lying down like a prisoner since morning. My first instinct was to pretend not to hear, but the door creaked open anyways.

The older maid walked in, her normal clipboard and stern expression on her. Behind her was a full on crew of what looked like hairdressers, nail techs makeup artists all dressed in black and all looking very serious. They all rushed into the room and started setting up their kits. I turned away, trying to pretend like I was sleeping so they would leave me alone for a while.

Obviously it didn't work and the maid came to the bedside and announced looking at me, "The Don requests you should be ready by 6:15 pm sharp."

I sighed as I lazily stood up to go sit down in one of the seats set up for me. Immediately they started working on me, pulling my hair like they wanted to pull it out of my scalp and aggressively buffing my nails all at once like we didn't have a t least an hour to finish.

By the time they were done my hair had been twisted into an elegant chignon and my face painted with red lipstick and liner. I was almost asleep fully by the time they finished my nails and the young maid had to consistently tap me on the shoulder so I don't fall of the chair. When they left to get my dress she smiled at me and leaned closer.

"You look beautiful, I'm so sorry for what happened in the morning." She whispered.

I blinked again, unsure if I was hearing things.

"What?"

"One of the button men Sergio, told me how you got here...and why you're married to the Don. If you ever need help with anything in the house tell me. I guess you don't like Madam Lucia very much to ask her."

Confused, I didn't answer, and before I could, the old maid had returned, carrying something in a thick black garment bag. She unzipped it carefully, revealing the dress inside.

I freeze.

The bastard has taste.

The gown is stunning. It is a deep red silk dress cinching at the waist in a ruched corset before flowing down into a pool on the floor. It had a thigh high slit and a sheer chiffon shoulder drape and embarrassingly, I actually can't wait to get into it.

I hate that I actually love it.

I hate that Dante has good taste.

The old maid watches me, waiting for a reaction. I refuse to give her one.

Sabrina and the old maid-who I am guessing is Madam Lucia-help me into the dress quickly, tugging and tightening the strings until I couldn't breathe. As I smoothed out the fabric by myself with my hand, my fingers grazed something small and hard sewn into the fabric, disguised and hidden in the lower corset.

My heart stopped for a quick second.

I checked again.

I then looked at Sabrina in the mirror and she looked back at me, a sorry expression on her face.

They were tracking me.

Even now, for a gala that I still would be under their eyes.

I scoffed at this under my breath, but decided to not say anything and let the both of them lead me downstairs. Saying anything would make them suspicious, and now I need to figure out how to escape with this in my dress, not make the security tighter.

Dante was waiting my the front door, wearing a midnight black suit that subtly showed off his tall muscular figure. I shifted my eyed away and walked down the stairs slowly, noticing he was looking at me. But by the time I reached the foot of the stairs, he turned to me a cold expression on his face.

"You're not riding in my car." He said flatly.

I blinked confused. Then where was I supposed to ride in wearing this godawfully uncomfortable-but beautiful I must admit- dress that felt like a straitjacket?

He didn't look at me and said this as he was walking away towards his car. "I don't want to converse with you, would be a waste of my time. My men will find you another car."

His comment stung, but I was a bit glad I didn't have to stay in the same car with him. But I would almost regret thinking that because with Dante we probably would be the only two people at the back seat. In the car I got drove in, I was seated between three burly bodyguards at the back carrying guns and giving me weird stares, one in the front, and one who acted as a driver. The silence during the ride was and uncomfortable and I was glad to step out of the car when we reached the venue. It is a grand, massive estate with tall marble pillars and sparkling chandeliers that can be seen even from the driveway. There were reporters and paparazzi everywhere.

I walked out a little and stopped at the top of the red carpet. I didn't know where to go. I must have looked odd, just standing there looking confused and for once I actually wanted to see Dante's hideous face.

The cameras clicked at me. Murmurs buzzed around me.

"Who is she?"

"Is she some politician's sidechick?"

Ouch.

"Girl in the red dress, stop hogging the carpet. You, yes you." A paparazzi yelled out at me and I felt my cheeks go red and hot with embarrassment. I quickly kept walking forward till I saw a tall figure at the center of the event. It was Dante and he was already shaking hands, conversing and laughing with other influential people like him. People flocked around him, men in perfectly tailored tuxedos and women in expensive gowns. Then I think his personal bodyguard noticed me and signalled to him I was there and he turned and looked at me like he had already forgotten he brought me here with him. Like I was an afterthought.

He then walked straight towards me, his face straight and for a second I thought he was going to ignore me and walk past me or look for a way to embarrass me again.

But then as he reached me he smiled at me.

Then he reached for my waist and pulled me in, brushing a stray hair away from my face like it wasn't me he was holing and instead some woman he was in love with.

"Oh my apologies my love. I got carried away with business." He grinned at me and I couldn't help admiring his grey eyes or his dimples when he smiled for a second. His scent was also intoxicating like _ and _.

But wait what is going on?

Before I could process that, Dante raised my chin up, leaned down and kissed me.

But the way he did I knew he was acting almost immediately. The kiss wasn't soft or sweet or romantic, at least to me. It was fast, hot and demanding, as if he had something to prove. It was a "hey she's mine, let me make a show for the public" kind of kiss.

And of course they loved it. The crowd erupted, cameras clicked furiously, people gasped and murmurs increased.

So I did what I had to do.

I bit him.

On his lower lip.