Page 1 of The Don's Proposal

1

Camellia

Music plays from the speakers up ahead. Thanks to the subwoofers, the bass throbs deep enough that I can feel it in my bones, and the beats per minute matches my heart rate.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

My heart is pounding like a drum solo that only ends once my poor organ gives out. At nineteen years old, I have my entire life ahead of me. Well,maybe.That may change depending on how the end of this night is going to go.

As long as my identity remains undiscovered, I feel safe. However, if someone were to figure out who I truly am, it could lead to devastating consequences that might prematurely end my youth.

I have a single task with little choice in the matter. Sneak into the enemy’s territory, and retrieve the information my brother needs. As straightforward as it sounds. In and out with no mistakes.

Only, I think Rocco sent the wrong person to get what he needs. That, or he picked the most disposable person at his fingers.

With a trembling glass of mixed liquor clutched tightly in my shaking fingers, I attempt to steady my quaking knees and keep them from wobbling uncontrollably. Everyone around me is laughing and enjoying the festivities while I stand here, fighting the start of a cold sweat.

I need to move. Now is no time to act like a wallflower or a skittish animal. I need to act more confidently, as if I belong with these criminals.

No one attends a Santino Bertelli party unless they’ve got a taste for breaking laws. Drug trafficking discussions happen as casually as chatting about the weather. Men pass around women, willing ones, I hope. Who is to say? They giggle and laugh as hungry hands grope their body parts, so I can only assume.

The shadowy corners are safest, but I can’t imagine what would happen if someone caught me alone. It’s not worth the risk, not when I have a mission to take care of. The place I’m sneaking off to is the most dangerous place around here.

As a chill rolls up my spine at the thought of the inevitable, I try to find something to distract myself with. Something to reassure me I stand a chance at making it out alive.

Instead, I spot my target. Once I lock onto him, it’s impossible to look away. My eyes are drawn to the host of this event, his captivating presence pulling me in like a magnet to metal.

There he is, the man of the hour. Santino Bertelli.

Dark eyes roam the room, his attention on those around him. Scanning and searching, they constantly move, never stopping on just one person. Someone has him deep in conversation, but he doesn’t look interested. With each sip of his drink, I expect him to jerk his chin and look my way without warning. Maybe he senses something is wrong, and he’s just waiting for me to slip. Waiting for me to give myself away in front of these people so he can make an example out of me.

Santino Bertelli is not a man to go against. Or so I’ve heard.

He wears black dress slacks, and a matching waistcoat, neatly fastened with jeweled buttons. It wouldn’t surprise me if they were diamonds. As a man of business, not even a party can stop him from wearing a crimson red tie. Just a shade brighter than the blood he spills with the snap of his fingers, a shiver rolls up my spine at the reminder of just how dangerous this man really is.. Dazzled in jewelry, the rings on each finger matches the buttons on his waistcoat.

The only element of his appearance suggesting relaxation is his casually rolled-up dress shirt sleeves, revealing muscular arms with faint veins under smooth skin, conveying both strength and relaxed confidence.

He’d never expect someone brave enough to infiltrate his home to look for secrets. It’s why he doesn’t look bothered in the slightest by having these people in his home at this ungodly hour.

I avoid making eye contact with him, especially if I want to stay unnoticed. Instead of forgetting how to walk as I get lost in the view, I push forward.

My brother made one thing clear. If I am discovered, I am better off biting off my tongue or grabbing one of their guns to take myself out before they can get the chance to get any information out of me. Despite not really knowing much, it’s a risk he’s not willing to take.

In other words, he’d rather I take my life than allow his enemy to get the upper hand.

Rocco has never won the brother of the year award in the last five years he’d taken over the ‘family business’. Given his callous disregard for others, I can’t say I’m shocked by his cruelty. He could have sent anyone to do his dirty work, yet I’m the one here.

Squeezed in a dress that shows off more skin than I’m used to, I continuously have to fight off the urge to cover myself away from any wandering eyes.

My sister was nice enough to paint my face, murmuring soft promises that everything would be all right. Helped put in my contacts too, changing the one thing that stands out the most about my identity, and makes me feel unique.

Rocco would never risk sending Eliza here. She possesses an undeniable beauty, and is far too well-known. There’s no chance she could pass by the sprawling iron bars that adorn the estate without being recognized.

Taking another sip of my drink, it feels heavy in my stomach as I drift across the room. When the glass becomes empty, I quickly swap it out with a refill when someone passes with a tray.

As someone who doesn’t drink alcohol often, I know I can’t go crazy. My skin is already flushed beneath my dress, but the nerves are still there. Right now, I’m in a pretty good spot.

I need to focus.

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