I'd had a good night's sleep, despite spending it all on the couch in the small, cozy living room. I'd been awake for about half an hour now, but had no will to get up. Who would want to when there were sure they were about to have another terrible day? In the kitchen not far away, I could hear Noah fixing us both a cup of his magical coffee. God knew I needed the caffeine. On entering the living room, he handed me a cup, I gratefully took it, sitting up with a throw pillow clutched to my chest. At first, I focused on the swirling brown beverage, but then I felt his gaze, steady and waiting for me to acknowledge him. So, I looked up, and damn did I have to admit he looked good today.
Noah was wearing a navy blue suit that hugged his lean frame and had been pressed to perfection. As usual, his brown skin shone whenever the morning sun hit it just right, and his unruly curls had been braided into sharp cornrows. He also smelled really nice, but Noah always smelled nice. The man was a perfectionist with a neatness complex, meaning he didn't like surprises much. Surprises like his boss's daughter showing up at his door at midnight, announcing she was sleeping over.
"What is this really about, Solene?"
Noah had a way of looking at people, like he was looking at me now. He always appeared detached, as he really didn't care that much about anything or anyone. But at the same time, his brown eyes were always judging, always assessing you and picking out the flaws. In a way, he was similar to Dante Diavolo. Both were hard to read and never smiled, but while one was simply antisocial, the other was dangerous.
Sitting straighter, I playfully tilted my head. "Maybe I just missed you?"
Noah was not impressed. "You only come over when you're in trouble. And you only stay when you've been kicked out or did the leaving yourself. So which is it this time?" He deadpanned.
Touché. He'd gotten me there.
Sadly, Noah was the closest thing I had to a friend. I did realize he mostly just tolerated me, but he mostly just tolerated everyone, and I suppose that's what I liked about him. After his parents' messy divorce, his black mother had given custody to his white father, old man Harold, who'd brought him to the mansion. I remember first meeting him as a little girl and thinking he was odd. Even as grown-ups, with him now working as my father's secretary at the winery, I was still far from figuring him out.
And yet, he was the only one I'd allowed myself to trust, because he wasn't just the random son of the help I'd met as a kid. He was Noah... My Noah.
"I'm getting married." As there wasn't exactly a way to ease into it, I simply dropped the bombshell and waited for a reaction. There was none. Noah sat there, looking with that same empty expression. A nerve ticked in my forehead. "Apparently, father's bright idea to save the company was to marry me off to a crime family. He did it without my consent and made me entertain my fiancé yesterday. The man is twice my age, and his son is a rude, manipulative ass."
Still no reaction.
"If it were just my future husband, then I could manage him. Old men are easy to please as long as they're aroused. But his son... The old man won't live forever. What happens to the trophy wife when he dies?"
That was what I'd realized yesterday, that I was going to be given neither freedom nor power in this marriage. If nothing else, Dante would stand in the way. He would make sure to control me, forever reminding me where my place was like he'd done in the lobby. I couldn't refuse to get married either, because a mere pawn was never given a choice. Noah understood this without me needing to tell him, and I liked that.
"Have you ever considered leaving?" He said after a long time of just listening. "You could start over somewhere far from here. You don't have to put up with any of this."
The question startled me. Really, had I ever considered leaving it all behind? The truth was no, it'd never crossed my mind. However, as I thought of it now, I realized I could never do it. A memory came to mind, one of my earliest, before mother fell into depression and did nothing but stare out the window. She'd taken I and big brother to the winery and showed us around. It would all be ours one day, she'd said. Her great-grandparents had built the company from a single vineyard, and when we were older, we would take over.
Belrose was my mother's family name, not my father's. Her legacy... And I wasn't leaving her life's work to the man who killed her.
"I could." In fact, in the past, that might have been my first instinct. Raising my cup to my lips, I asked Noah, "But it's high time I stop running, don't you think?"
Noah studied me. "So, what will you do?"
A second ago, I'd had no idea. Now, I wondered why it'd taken me this long to figure out.
"You still have that pretty green top I left here?"
Noah's expression remained blank. "You know I keep all your things in the guestroom drawers."
"I do. And I love that you're reliable." I was done with my coffee, and I dropped a kiss on his cheeks, lightly caressing his shoulders as I rounded his armchair and walked away.
Whenever I stayed over at Noah's, I left something behind, and that habit helped me get ready today. I paired the chic green top with a pair of black pants, another leftover from my sleepovers, and topped the look off with a classy bun and minimal makeup. Intentional, but not desperate, perfect for the mission ahead. By 9:30, I was in a cab, and pulling out a phone to call my father.
"You'd better have a good excuse for disappearing yesterday," His voice was controlled, like it usually was, but just brimming with restrained fury.
I couldn't care less he was mad. "You can chew me out, or you could tell me where to find Dante Diavolo so I can fix the mess I made yesterday. Choose wisely."
He didn't reply immediately, as he was probably weighing what he had to lose from letting me handle it my way. He eventually gave me a location. "Don't ruin this, Solene, or there will be consequences."
I intend to improve my options, actually, but rather than say that, I cut the call on him. On arriving at the address he gave me, I raised an eyebrow. I'd been stopped at the most ordinary-looking warehouse at the harbor, nothing about it screaming mafia base. The instant I stepped inside, all eyes turned to me, but I suppose I did look out of place with the steel beams and concrete walls with peeling paint. I stood at the entrance just long enough to let them look, then walked directly toward the man at the desk.
"Dante Diavolo works here, doesn't he? Can you call him out here, please?" My tone was sweet, my gaze flirty.
The man in the stained white shirt and fading denim suspenders blinked. I watched all three emotions flit across his features—shock, confusion, then suspicion."No one by that name." He narrowed his eyes at me.
"Uh-huh." I took the liberty of sitting on his desk and crossed my legs. "We both know that isn't true. Tell Dante I'm here, he will want to see me. Say... It's family."
The man hesitated, then pointed to a row of chairs at the far corner. Before leaving, I shot him a smile, only because I knew it would unsettle him further. It was hilarious watching him scurry away after, probably to inform his boss of the new development. Others got back to their work, and I was left to observe the place. Only then did I notice the cameras in unlikely places, the eerie silence in the place, the occasional man in black suits wearing concealed security earpieces passing by.
This place was definitely no shipping company. I was in the right place.
I overheard it then, a man whispering to a boy while handing him what appeared to be a toolbox, unaware I was listening in. "Take this to the Sottocapo in the basement."
Sottocapo. I didn't speak Italian, but I could guess what the word meant. I moved when I thought no one was watching, going the way the boy had gone, but I guess I'd calculated that wrong.
"Hey! Stop!" The voice of the man in suspenders rang out. He'd returned quite early.
Well, I'd hoped to gracefully strut into the basement and confront Dante Diavolo, but since elegance had failed me, speed would do. I raced down the stairwell, a difficult feat in YSL stilettos. The man caught up soon enough, grabbing my shoulder and forcing me to lose my footing as I twisted out of his grasp and kicked him in the middle. My jaw hurt like the devil after hitting it on the railing, but I couldn't stop when the basement door was inches away. I pushed it open, the same time a deafening bang rang in my ears and a liquid splashed on my face.
I recognized a gunshot when I heard one, and a quick check with my fingers confirmed the liquid was indeed blood. I stared deep into the eyes of the man I'd be seeking. He raised an eyebrow, like he was asking what I was doing here. My gaze fell to his bloodstained hand, and the gun in it, then to the lifeless body sprawled at my feet.
My knees didn't shake. I didn't let myself show weakness, but the fear curling around my heart was undeniable. I'd just witnessed my first murder.