Page 102 of Luciano (Belles & Mobsters 1)

Ella quickly stripped down her wet towel and pulled on new undergarments. I stood up from the tub and in quick movements dried out with the help of the young woman and did the same. The moment dried undergarments were on, I quickly wrapped another dry towel around me waiting for Ella to be done.

And good thing, because no sooner had I secured it around me, the guard turned around. Asshole was hoping for a free show.

A maroon ball gown cascaded down Ella’s body, accenting all her curves. She looked beautiful, her blonde hair and golden tone skin from our time in Italy, accented by the red colors.

“Red is reserved for courtesans.” The guard’s gleeful voice had my heart instantly sinking. I wasn’t sure if looking beautiful was the best thing right now. “Unless someone buys you for their own pleasure.”

“But she is not married,” I objected without even thinking. Not sure why I bothered. It wasn’t as if this damn event even made sense.

“She is not a virgin.” Jesus, neither was I. This was the twenty-first century. Someone should really educate these assholes on feminism. “Damaged goods,” he added.

He gave me a look that told me he considered both of us damaged goods. What. An. Asshole.

I’d love to punch him in the face. Not kill him, but freaking punch him and make him bleed. Maybe also kick his balls.

Turning my back to him, I looked at Ella. She was pale and shivering from fear, her eyes wide on the guard, all the while both women worked on her hair and makeup.

“Don’t listen to him,” I whispered, tugging her towards me. “It’s going to be okay.” I took her face between my hands and forced her to look at me. I portrayed calmness but it was thin ice, just a front that could easily crumble at any moment. One blast of heat and it’d be gone. But she needed it. I needed the illusion of it.

No amount of years could have ever prepared us for this. We knew the deal for years, since our first year of high school to be exact. In my case, this price was on my head before I was even born. But they were mistaken if they thought I’d take it lying down. I would fight them every single step of the way.

“Miss Romano, it is your turn.” The dressmaker lifted another gown and my heart stopped.

“I want a red gown. I’m damaged goods too,” I breathed out.

I would rather wear red than this. The silver elaborate gown was my mother’s. She wore it at her engagement party to my dad. The lavishly embroidered design from waist down made the gown unique. It was one of a kind. I still remembered the painting that hung in our family room. My mother and father looked like a fairytale couple at their engagement. I always begged her to let me wear it, and she promised that one day I would. For my own engagement party.

“I was instructed to have you wear this.”

“No,” I whispered. “Please, no.”

“Either you put it on, or I put it on you,” the guard chimed in, his tone threatening and cruel. There was no doubt he’d deliver the threat and enjoy it too.

I itched to get my hands on a weapon and just kill him. I was never a violent person, but I was quickly becoming one. I wanted to draw blood, make them pay for touching my mother’s stuff, for putting their filthy, blood infested hands on them. And on us.

“Please turn back around so I can get dressed in privacy.”

He glared at me, his black eyes full of detest and hate. “You think you are better than the rest of us. But soon you will find out.”

At least he did turn his back to me.

With the lead in the pit of my stomach and my heart squeezing in my chest, I dropped the towel onto the floor and stepped into the beautiful silver gown. I felt my bottom lip quiver, and I bit into it. Instead, I focused on Ella.

We can do this. We’ll survive this.

As if she knew what I was thinking, she nodded. Both ladies pulled up the elaborate gown up my body and one of them started buttoning the platinum buttons up my back. Never in a million years did I think I’d wear my mother’s dress to be sold off. Like some whore. To be property of a mobster.

“Bellissima.” The word uttered by the old woman was spoken softly but it hit wrong. I didn’t want to look beautiful. Not for these cruel men. Not for this cruel underworld.

She spoke something to the guard but words didn’t register. I just focused on Ella, my mind working through different scenarios on our escape plan. We just needed a short window, and we could take the secret path. Run and never look back.

Two guards came back with a large, heavy full size mirror. They placed it in front of me and suddenly the reflection stared back at me. My mother’s reflection. The bodice of the silver gown hugged my bust, the staples elaborate dress accenting my breasts and pale, slim neckline. The dress shimmered on me, even the poor lighting in this room couldn’t take away its sparkle. With her expert hands, the old woman pulled my hair into a loose bun with curly strands framing my face. No make up for me.

“Please bring the tiara from Mr. Romano. It has been in our safe for the past four years.” They really thought of everything. What a cruel, twisted mind my family has!

A short minute and my mother’s platinum tiara sparkling with diamonds rested on my head, like a heavy crown. I’d give it to these people. They managed to transform me into an innocent, fragile looking temptress.

For the Romano belle to fetch the highest price, I thought bitterly.

---