Page 50 of Blood and Beauty (Owned by The Don)

“What am I to you, Dante?” My voice is barely above a whisper, and he turns his head to me, his stare boring into mine.

“You know what you are, Emmie. You’re mine.”

His use of my name goes straight to my heart like an arrow, painful and beautiful all at once. It cracks me open before him.

“But you’re not mine, are you?”

He stares at me for a moment before Sergio calls for him downstairs. He turns and shuts the door behind him, leaving me and my stupid heart cracked and bleeding all over the bedroom floor.

21

Esmeralda

Marianne adjustsmy dress and hair for the fifteenth time in the entire hour that she's been in my room. I don't get frustrated with her, I love that she cares about my comfort and appearance. It makes me feel noticed in a time where I feel invisible. It almost makes me feel like how a daughter should feel with her mother. The feeling makes me miss my mom, which is strange beyond comparison. These last few weeks have made me see her in a new light, even with the years of trauma that trail behind us. I know tonight will be impossible to sneak away and speak to her, but I've made it a goal of mine to do so. Safety or not, she's my mother and she still needs me as much as I need her.

“Do you feel comfortable about what we discussed tonight?”

She’s referring to the giant lie that both of us have to tell. A lie that she agreed to tell without question, which confuses me even more than I already am.

“Yes, Marianne. Can I ask you something, though?”

She fixes her earring in the mirror before answering me. She’s definitely in her mid-fifties, but she can pass as a forty-year old woman. Her youth radiates with her style and composition, her kindness matching her physical beauty.

“Why do you stick by him? He’s making you lie to a group of important people about me, a total stranger to you. Are you more than just his stylist?”

The last question not only sounded bitchy, but also out of line. I immediately apologize for it and she shrugs me off with a kind smile. This woman is literally an angel on earth and neither of us deserve her.

“I’ve been working as Dante’s personal stylist for over ten years now. I have an idea of the line of work that he is in, but I know better than to ask too many questions. He keeps me in business and treats me well, I feel no obligation but to return that same kindness to him.”

She really is a saint.

“Has he even informed you of who I am?” I search her eyes and she smiles at me, almost in sympathy.

“He doesn’t need to give me any information to know that you are someone he wants to keep safe. We both know he lives in a dark world, and his protection is his form of care.”

She’s saying that he cares about me? Is she blind?

“It’s not my safekeeping that he’s protecting, it’s his own.”

My voice is somewhat shaky, and she stares at me for a moment before moving a strand of hair from my eyes. The act is genuine and it makes me adore her even more than I already do.

“He’s not one to care for his own safety, Emmie. Look at his lifestyle. He puts himself in danger every single day. Trust that what I’m saying is the truth.”

I take in what she says and decide to not argue with her on this. I don’t want to ruin our new and genuine relationship with the mistrust that I feel for Dante. She doesn’t need to be caught in any more of his webs, including the one he’s entangled me in. I let her fix my hair and touch up my makeup for the final time before I walked to the door with her arm in mine.

“Ready?” she asks, a kind smile in her blue eyes. I offer a small one back. At least I’ll have her with me tonight.

“As I’ll ever be,” I say back before we walk out of the bedroom and down the stairs to the party.

Once we are on the main floor of Dante’s mansion, Marianne leads me to the back yard where the event is being held. I am awestruck by the sight. Canopies are set up all across the vast acreage of Dante’s back yards, twinkling lights stretching from each one. There are fresh vases of flowers set all around, each one a different size vase and breed of flower.

A violinist plays from the stage set up behind his pool, and the music echoing throughout the landscape sounds divine and elegant. I feel like I’m in a fairytale, everything looks so magical and alive before me. Several waiters in bow ties are going around to each guest, offering samples of food that make my mouth water. I spot Javier and he smiles at me. It makes my stomach feel warm with comfort. I smile back and let Marianne guide me through the courtyard, my eyes bouncing from guest to guest.

Every person here is either beautiful, intimidating, extremely rich or a mix of all three. It makes me feel small, but Marianne’s warm grip on my arm keeps me grounded.

“How many of these events have you been to?” I ask. She shrugs and grabs a couple glasses of champagne for us. I take a sip and almost moan in pleasure. It’s light, crisp and a little sweet. Something I could dangerously get used to.

“Quite a few over the years. He hasn’t had one for a while. It used to be a couple times of year for a minute, but his socializing has died down over the last couple of years.”

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