Page 8 of A Beautiful Crime

“Your observation can be kept to yourself. You must not speak in this manner towards The Don,” he stresses heavily, as if it’s not already ingrained in my brain.

But because this is the only sense of enjoyment I’ve had this evening, no matter how sick or twisted it is, I reply innocently, “You mean speaking of fact?”

He grunts. His blue eyes flash with anger as they pierce through my skin. “If it is not a compliment I advise you to keep your mouth shut.”

“Then I guess I’ll remain silent for the rest of the evening.”

“You’re childish, Carina.”

“And you are depressingly boring.”

His nostrils flare. I even see his hand twitch by his side. The anger he has towards me is palpable. It’s impossiblenotto see the tension between us. “You must have enjoyed the last lashing because you are begging for another.”

I shrug nonchalantly. A lashing for getting under my dear brother’s skin is one I won’t mind. At least I had accomplished something to earn it. “I thought we were simply pointing out one another’s personality traits, forgive me if I misunderstood.”

Sneering down at me he grabs my wrist and applies an impressive amount of pressure. I stare up at him with a bored expression upon my face when I can feel my skin bruising.

“You may very well be in papa’s good graces but if you don’t accomplish what is expected of you tonight then you will face his wrath,” he reminds me of the severity of what tonight means for The Fiore Famiglia, what it means for me. I go to pull my wrist away from him but he tightens his grip. I narrow my eyes at him and fight the wince that wants to break free. I’ll never cower to any man, least of all my brother. “And trust me, I will enjoy watching it.”

Of course. I wouldn’t expect any different.

Luca Fiore is a sadistic man who takes pleasure in anyone’s pain.

But he also likes to remain the apple of our papa’s eyes. The favorite. His most important chess piece.

It must burn him to know that I am that piece for papa.

“If you don’t remove your hand I will scream,” I warn him lowly. “And trust me, caro fratello, I never bluff.”

His eyes continue to throw daggers at me but he does begrudgingly release his relentless grip on my wrist.

My bones cry in relief. I’m about to caress my now inflamed and red skinned wrist when the hall becomes silent as everyone’s attention goes to the luxurious staircase.

My heels click loudly against the floor as I turn to find what has everyone both on edge and standing at attention.

The trail of my silk black dress that clings tightly to my skin makes a gentle swoosh. Even the sound of that is too loud.

I would flush from embarrassment but I’m incapable of feeling that anymore.

There at the top of the luxurious dark marbled staircase that perfectly matches the floor is the one and only Constantine Donati.

In my research on him prior to this evening my eyes had only seen pictures of him. The ones of him in designer suits that no average man could afford or even dream of affording paired with a smile that charmed and coal black eyes that deceived everyone of his true intentions.

But the pictures, as recent and high resolution as they were, did no justice to the man who stands before us all.

They didn’t capture the strong line of his jaw. Sharp enough to cut the throat of any man and his perfectly trimmed scruff that accentuates his prominent cheekbones.

It didn’t hold the sheer size of him. His bulky frame is made of pure muscle and is more intimidating in person. His black three piece suit hugs his body but it strains across his shoulders.

Nor did it quite catch how brilliant and dazzling his smile truly is. In pictures I found it hard to believe how just a smile of his could make anyone swoon. It’s almost off putting how regal he is.

And I want to shred every picture for doing him such an injustice. Not because of how dashingly handsome he is but because those pictures led me to believe I would be meeting a different man. I want to tear them apart piece by piece because they deceived me. And because they deceived me I feel foolish.

I haven’t felt foolish since my rebirth.

He descends the staircase and his premium leather Italian shoes hardly make a sound.

I hate how that impresses me given his size.

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