Page 4 of Burn for Me

One of the group who’d hired me stood amongst the trees, a yellow glow flickering across his face as he watched me wide-mouthed.

I gave him one last nod before someone tugged him away through the trees.

I headed to my bike, waiting nearby, pausing for a moment beside it to admire my handiwork tearing through the building. I removed my mask and ran a hand through my sweat-slicked hair, allowing the cool night breeze and the warmth coming off the blaze to whisper over my naked face. Inhaling, my eyes close as I let the familiar sensation toy with me. A few moments later, I pulled on my lower face mask, covering everything below my eyes before sliding my helmet over my head.

With the flames lighting the surrounding area, I kicked my bike into action, the rev of the engine failing to competewith the terrific roar of the inferno behind me. The way the raging inferno danced in the chrome of my bike was mesmerising.

Reluctant to leave the glorious sight, I drove off into the night.

THREE

Laura

The zip slid neatly closed on my final suitcase, and I couldn't help but smile. Four sleek black cases, each with the designer's name embroidered on the front, stood at the end of my bed. Looking at them made me feel grown up and ready for the next chapter in my life. With polished nails, hair perfectly coiffed in waves over my shoulders, and a brand-new wardrobe suitable for a woman who belonged at his side, I'd liberally spent on Massimo's credit card to transform myself into his perfect wife.

Butterflies flitted in my stomach as I spotted the time. Only a few hours until Massimo arrived for the pre-wedding dinner. Mother had set it to be an intimate, family-only affair, with a bigger party to follow at the wedding venue later in the night. I wondered if he would kiss me. I hoped he would. Despite the tornado of nerves making my belly swim, I was ready to embrace my new life fully. The four cases heldeverything I was taking to my new home. Whatever was left was unneeded or replaceable.

Plopping down on the edge of my bed, I pulled Massimo's bundle of letters from one of the case's front pockets. I didn't even need to open them, though. I'd read them so many times I knew each one practically word for word. However, with each passing day, I realised more and more how much I enjoyed not only his words, but his attention. For the first time in forever, I felt desired, just as I was. Like someone out there had seen beauty in my many flaws and wanted me despite them. I only hoped his passion for me would remain stoked when we wed and began living together. I'd be on my best behaviour and try to instil all the etiquette my mother had pestered me with my whole life. Massimo deserved the very best wife, and he'd chosen me.

I wouldn't let him down.

Pulling off my leggings and hoodie, I slipped into a modest, yet pretty, dress that had cost an eye-watering amount. It was delicate and feminine, with soft layers of sheer white silk floating down from the fitted waist. As I topped up my lipstick with trembling fingers, I kept glancing at the wall clock through the (full length/large) mirror, half-wondering if it was faulty because time seemed to drag on so slowly. Drawing in a steeling breath, I finish the outfit with a set of understated pearl earrings my grandmother had left me. I'd treasured them for years as a lasting memento of her, and perhaps they'd be my lucky token as I ventured into my new life. In a way, she might even be there to guide me through it.

Inhaling deeply, I took one last glance at the reflection of a me I barely recognised in the mirror.

I bore a resemblance to my mother’s friends’ daughters,who had already accomplished a lot in their roles as wives or career women. My abandoned leggings lay rumpled on the floor, like the shed skin of the person I was before Massimo.

Smoothing my skirt, I headed to the dining room.

My father leaned against the in-home bar, pouring himself a rather large whisky before reaching over for my brother's glass, topping it up.

'Hey,' I said, smiling awkwardly as both sets of eyes grazed over my appearance. 'I'll have one of those too, please.'

'Sure thing, kid.' Dad pulled a glass forward and dropped a generous measure into it.

'Still can't believe our little dumplin' has secured Massimo fuckin' Ricci,' Elijah said, his voice dripping with scorn.

I fucking detested the nickname he had always inflicted upon me. It had been a thing as long as I could remember. Little dumpling. Fat little pudding. My cheeks pricked with heat when he sipped his whisky with a smug grin.

'It's not my fault that not even Daddy can find someone who would marry you,' I replied, reaching past him to grab my glass.

Before I had the chance to take a swig of the fiery liquid, my mother plucked the glass clean out of my fingers and replaced it with a long-stemmed champagne glass.

'Don't use that tone with your brother. No one likes a bitter woman, Laura.' My mother handed the whisky glass over to my father and gave me a look of displeasure.

'He called me?—'

'I don't care what he called you. It's your job to be sweet, darling, not right.'

I sipped at the extra-dry champagne and tried not to pull a face. At least it was alcohol.

'George, please don't give her whisky. Massimo doesn't need to come in here and smell that foul stuff on her breath.' My father shrugged and drank down the whisky in question. Elijah took a sip of his while holding my gaze, smacking his lips in a dramatic display of delight.

Rolling my eyes, I made my way to the window that overlooked our driveway. The sooner I got out of here, the better.

If only time could go faster.

Massimo Ricci was in my house.

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