Page 8 of Dare To Free Us

The salad tasted like ash on my tongue as I sat alone eating in a restaurant that used to be one of my favorites.

It was par for the course. Ever since moving back home to Boston from graduating Chico State with my art degree nothing felt satisfying.

For months I tried to think about anything but the fact that somewhere in the same city Matteo Russo existed. Stupid, since the past four years and a three thousand mile distance couldn’t make me forget about him before.

I should’ve just moved away. Went back to northern California to live with Becka— my best friend and roommate from college— but my parents had been so happy to have me home. As their only child they always wanted me around. It had taken major convincing just to assure them that getting my own apartment didn’t mean I wouldn’t see them often.

But how could I complain? At least they loved me and never held back on an opportunity to show it. My heart twisted for my best friend Becka— who I met in college— at the story of her past. No child should ever have to go through what she did.

Even the night my Father tore me out of Matteo’s arms I knew in my heart that my father loved me, and believed he was doing the right thing. I forgave him in time, knowing that I could never hate my father for being willing to sacrifice our relationship if it meant protecting me.

My plan for coming home to Boston was to settle in and get a job at one of the many prestigious galleries, then eventually open my own. Painting was my passion. Art made me feel calm, whole somehow. I never felt more at peace than when I had a brush in my hand.Except maybe in Matteo’s arms.

However, in my plan I did not account for the feelings that would drown me when I returned. The sense of overwhelming loss every time I thought about the one person that I could never have but my heart desperately yearned for, so close and yet so far away.

I’d tried so hard to forget him but my soul refused to let go. I remained a virgin through college because I never had the desire to be touched by anyone else. Even to close my eyes when embraced by another man and imagine Matteo couldn’t conjure more than a spark of want.

So, I got my own place and acquired a job, to which my father scoffed at. I would never have to work a day in my life if I didn’t want to and my father would pay to open a gallery for me tomorrow if I asked, but I wanted to pay my dues. My plan was in motion.

And yet everything felt miserable.

I couldn’t seem to find true joy in anything. Sure, I went out with friends sometimes, but after finding a true friendship out west, their hollow ideas of friendship made it hard to connect with them any longer.

I decided to go to Angelo’s to get lunch, a place that never let me down when things seemed bleak. It’s where my mom used to take me all the time on our girly days of shopping and pampering.

I pushed the spring greens and cranberries around the plate, hoping that my next bite might actually hold flavor.

“Such a beautiful woman should not look so sad.”

A strong male voice with a heavy Russian accent had my head springing up.

“She should also not be eating alone,” he continued as we made eye contact.

Wow.The man was gorgeous in an almost too perfect kind of way. Ice blue eyes stared down at me from below dark eyebrows that matched his hair. His strong jaw and high cheek bones were near perfection. The size of him was a bit intimidating from my sitting position and I didn’t think standing would have made much difference. He wore an expensive suit that spoke of money and fine taste. Any woman would have been thrilled to have a man such as him take notice.

The idea was flattering, but my heart simply sighed.

“May I sit with you?” He gestured to the chair across form me.

“I don’t know if I’m going to be great company, if I look as sad as you say I do.”

He took the seat, nodding his head. “I be judge of that.” His broken english had me smirking. “I am Shura.” He hand reached across the table.

Shura’s hand swallowed mine as I took it while he watched intently for my reaction. “Arianna.”

“Yes, I know.”

I blinked. I’d never met this man before. My heart may have belonged to another but as a warm blooded woman I would have remembered meeting a man like Shura. “Have we met?”

“No, but have heard stories of your beauty. I have been trying to work with your father.” He steepled his hands together, elbows on the table and watched me closely.

A bit of uneasiness slithered down my spine. I knew what my father did for a living. I also knew that the Russos were the only family he laundered money for. Maybe Shura was legit and trying to open a real business or something? But as I followed his quick glance at the table to our left I noticed the four big men watching us. Bodyguards.

Shura was a gangster for sure.

“I have nothing to do with my father’s business.”

He smiled and it was beautiful, but his cold eyes betrayed his charm.

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