A Beauty So Cruel Manuscript (2)

by Alone Eagle

  My eyes roamed every area, circling it, memorizing it, looking for possible escape routes. I needed to be smart and not stupid. Inside, it was traditional with various family photographs and classical paintings on the walls.

  Don Vlad was already seated on a single couch with golden handles.

  A throne for a king.

  More like a beast.

  He had taken his suit jacket and tie off, and he sat in front of me in a satin black shirt and black pants. His sleeve cuffs were rolled up, exposing tattoos on his arms and the Rolex on his wrist. His shirt was unbuttoned now, showing tattoos on his chest too. I couldn’t make it out much, but I knew it stood for something.

  He looked casual and comfortable. His stance demanded authority without saying anything. I could feel the men around me stand up straight and fix their posture.

  He owned this room.

  A devasting thought entered my mind that he might own me too.

  His hand rested on his jawline as he looked at me with his sharp, calculating eyes. One of his legs laid across his thigh as if he was self-assured of himself.

  It was strange because I felt like a mess in front of him. My emotions were all over the place. I tried my best to hide it, to not show any weakness, but I feared he could see right through me. A weight sat heavy in the pit of my stomach. His presence was overwhelming, and he was intimidating. He had barely spoken to me in the parking lot. Just asked me a question before disappearing again. He didn’t seem to be a man of many words. Actions were stronger than words sometimes.

  He raised his hand in the air, perhaps to dismiss his men that surrounded me in every corner but then he paused. He remained still as he looked at my face then his gaze traveled to my neck, narrowing in on it.

  His gaze wasn’t leering nor was he checking me out.

  It was different.

  Then, the Don spoke in his deep, commanding voice.

  “Who choked you?”

  3

  Chapter 3

  Against her ghostly skin, the girl’s marks were grotesque. Vlad didn’t want to believe that one of his men had touched her, but someone clearly had. She had large, red fingerprints on her neck. He knew they would turn purple by tomorrow and deepen over the coming week before leaving ugly, yellow blotches.

  The girl’s hand went to her neck. Maybe she was surprised he had said something. She stayed still, not bothering to reply to him. She was defiant in her own little way, but he didn’t want to play right now. He needed answers.

  “I will say this only once. I don’t like repeating myself. The next time you don’t answer me, I will put you down.” Her eyes widened. “Who choked you?” he asked calmly.

  The girl’s eyes nervously darted toward one of his men. His gaze followed the direction before landing on Leo who held a napkin to his cheek.

  Of course.

  His eyebrows furrowed at Leo. He was the only one who could have possibly touched her. He was aware that Leo was frisky with women. That meant he acted without an order.

  “Leo?” Vlad questioned, returning his attention to the girl.

  The girl bit down on her lip before she replied, “Yes.”

  He tried not to sigh. He tried to cover up his wrath before beckoning Leo with a finger to stand across from him. The girl moved away and stood to the side.

  “You touched her?” he asked with an edge to his voice.

  “She cussed at me!” Leo said, his eyes throwing daggers at the girl.

  Vlad arched an eyebrow at him. “And she said what?”

  “She said, ‘fuck you’ to me.”

  Vlad blinked slowly and glanced at the girl.

  Fuck you?

  That didn’t seem like the nervous girl he met at the ball.

  Then, he turned his gaze to Leo, looking at his bleeding cheek.

  “What happened to your face?”

  Leo glared at the girl. “She clawed me.”

  Vlad hid a smile. “Did you touch her anywhere else?”

  “He tried to feel me up and grabbed my arm tightly,” the girl answered instead.

  Vlad didn’t miss the revengeful look Leo threw at the girl. She was clutching her arms and fiddling with her fingers nervously. He focused on her words again. Her voice still unsettled him. She was like a little beauty, someone who looked like an angel, yet her voice was anything but that. No softness was behind it. Her voice was less timid and more confident now. There was power in her voice… like an authoritative figure.

  He would deal with Leo, but something else piqued up his curiosity now.

  “What is your name?” Vlad asked her, suspiciously.

  Her amber eyes met his. “Dahlia.”

  Dahlia. “Full name,” he demanded.

  She exhaled slowly before she replied, “Dahlia Hadid.”

  He gazed at her again. “I’m Vlad,” he mocked her.

  He knew he didn’t need to introduce himself. She knew who he was. He could tell, but he still felt the need to introduce himself. She looked at him bewildered and baffled, as if scoffing at him. He tried to hide a smile at her being uncomfortable.

  “Where do you work?” he asked.

  “I’m a waitress.”

  He was surprised now. “At?”

  “In Queens. Hank’s Diner.”

  He arched an eyebrow. That was a long way from the Hamptons.

  “And how did a waitress get invited to a high society masquerade ball?”

  He wasn’t high society, although his family legacy was loaded with money. There was nothing classy and high society about having his hands covered in blood.

  She looked at him, confused. “I had a date. He invited me.”

  “Emilio Valentino,” he added.

  “He came to the restaurant where I was working. He came to meet someone there.”

  Vlad only nodded. Valentino was one of the richest men in the city. It didn’t surprise him that he’d seen Dahlia and invited her as his date. She was stunning.

  So fucking stunning.

  “Check her background Gabriele,” he said loudly to one of his men.

  Gabriele only nodded.

  Vlad just wanted to be sure.

  He had too many rivals already.

  He glanced up at Dahlia again.

  “You mentioned people would give money for you?”

  He didn’t care about the money though.

  She opened her mouth to speak before clamping it shut. A tendril of hair hung loose around her face and seemed to be irritating her eye. She reached up and quickly shoved it back. “I have $6,000 in my bank account.”

  Vlad only looked at her amused. Was that supposed to impress him? That amount was a lot to others, but little compared to his lifestyle.

  “I liked your other offer better.”

  Take me.

  Her doe-like eyes widened at him.

  “You said you have family?” he asked, changing the topic now. “Who do you live with? Is there anyone who would look for you?”

  She bit her lip nervously and shook her head. “I live by myself.”

  Did she lie just then? Of course, she would have said anything then to get out. He didn’t mind too much though.

  “You have a boyfriend? A husband?” he asked.

  She shook her head again. “No.”

  That surprised him. How was she single?

  “A girlfriend?” he asked instead.

  Her answer would disappoint him if she said, yes.

  She wouldn’t sway his way then.

  She shook her head again.

  “I asked you a question. When I do, you answer me, and not just nod,” Vlad said in a stern, annoyed voice.

  Her eyes narrowed at him. “I don’t.”

  “You have parents who would look for you? Siblings?”

  She was about to shake her hand again, but then thought better of it. “No. I was raised in foster homes.”

  An orphan? That was strange. She had nobody. He was suspicious again. Too good to be true. Was she ly
ing to him and protecting someone? He set his jaw and scowled at her, keeping his stare icy. Gabriele would do a thorough background check.

  Then, he returned to the original issue.

  “Show me your arms.”

  Dahlia almost jumped hearing his loud command. She looked stunned before chewing on that full lip of hers. Hunger churned in his stomach. She needed to stop doing that. He wanted to bite her lip instead.

  “Your bruises,” Vlad said, bored now.

  Then, she lifted the sleeve of her velvet black dress and pulled it back.

  “Come closer,” he ordered.

  She walked with hesitant footsteps toward him, as if afraid of him. She placed her arm before him. There were angry fresh marks on her creamy, pale flesh.

  He stood up, and Dahlia stepped backward, caught off guard.

  All of the men tensed up.

  Vlad clasped his hands behind his back as he stared at Leo. He was a good head taller than Leo. Leo stared at him with fear in his eyes. He looked shit scared.

  “Did he say something to you?” he asked, still looking at Leo but directing the question at Dahlia. When she hesitated too long, he jerked his head in her direction, annoyed again.

  She had already broken his rule multiple times. Her replies were too slow. The girl licked her lips, and his eyes followed that movement. She exhaled slowly before she spoke, “He said, ‘Maybe Don will share.’”

  Vlad dropped his arms and pinched the bridge of his nose, angrily. His eyes hardened and his jaw ticked. Then, his furious eyes shot to Leo who recoiled in response.

  “I don’t know whether to cut off your tongue for what you said or your hand for what you did,” Vlad said.

  Leo’s eyes widened, almost bugging out of their sockets.

  Dahlia stilled.

  “Maybe both?” Vlad offered smoothly.

  Something built up inside him, a need to hunt and kill. He couldn’t kill his right hand though, Leo was the best fighter he had, and he knew Leo would lay down his life for him when the time came. But that didn’t excuse his actions.

  Vlad’s fiery eyes met Leo’s.

  “On your knees,” he ordered.

  Leo glanced nervously between Vlad and the rest of the men, who stayed still, watching the show. They knew better than to interfere.

  Leo nodded and dropped slowly to the ground.

  “Which hand did he touch you with?” Vlad asked Dahlia.

  Dahlia was silent. Then, he threw a heated gaze at her, and her eyes widened.

  He hoped she remembered the earlier threat he had made.

  He didn’t like repeating himself.

  “B-both,” she stammered.

  Idiot. Vlad wanted to shake his head.

  Before Vlad even had to ask, Leo had already prepared himself for his punishment. He placed his hand on the ground next to Vlad’s shoe.

  Vlad looked Dahlia in the eye before lifting his foot and stamping down hard onto Leo’s hand. He didn’t even blink, not even once. Leo’s bones cracked and crunched under his foot, but he made himself immune to his right-hand’s pain. Pain worked like a charm in his world. Those who didn’t listen had to be punished.

  He never took his gaze off her, relishing her reaction. He could smell her fear even from a distance. She knew now exactly who she was dealing with.

  A choked scream left her mouth. Then, she quickly covered it with her hand. She looked at him with disbelief, as if she couldn’t really believe he was hurting one of his own men. Did she think he was doing it for her? He wasn’t. She had offered herself to Vlad, not Leo. And by laying a hand on her, Leo had overstepped the mark, he’d wanted to appear beyond the rules, and he couldn’t let that pass unpunished.

  Beside him, Leo didn’t scream, although he did let out an agonized grunt.

  He was tough, one of the reasons Vlad kept him around.

  Leo’s hand was undoubtedly broken now.

  Then, he repeated the same action with Leo’s other hand.

  This time the girl, Dahlia, didn’t scream. She only gasped in surprise.

  Leo was below him bruised with broken hands. No one could overrule him. Ever. He would destroy anyone who would try. He had killed before for less.

  “Your hands will heal. Don’t disobey my order again. Next time I’ll cut your tongue out.”

  He knew the message was clear.

  You obey me, and don’t touch what’s mine.

  Then, he dismissed Leo and the rest of his men.

  Leo struggled to rise. It was hard for him since his hands were battered, and he couldn’t use them to support himself. Vlad stood there, forcing himself to stay still.

  Leo nodded with his gaze lowered and walked away with a backward glance. The rest of the men followed him leaving Vlad alone with a scared Dahlia.

  Vlad took two strides toward her and stood in front of her now. He loosely shoved his hands in his pockets as he stared down at her.

  She was tall, taller than the women he’d been with before. She still reached his shoulders though. He was six feet-two. She lowered her hand from her face as her glimmering almond-shaped green eyes stared up at him. She seemed lost at what had just happened to her in the space of a few hours.

  Abducted, held hostage, witness to a murder, and then she’d seen a man’s hands being crushed.

  Up close, her beauty was even more alarming.

  Every part of his senses was alert. He’d seen her face when she pulled off her masquerade mask and dropped it on the parking lot cement. That was a confident, ballsy move, revealing her identity. She hadn’t been afraid that he could have denied her and killed her instead.

  He’d seen many pretty women before, but this one was beautiful. That was the word to describe her. It had been forever since he’d found a woman beautiful. She had offered herself as a willing hostage in exchange to spare her life.

  He studied her features. She had freckles on her nose. His eyes were drawn to her full, pink colored rosebud lips. Then, his eyes took in the rest of her face. He was openly checking her out. She had a long, graceful neck. She was beautiful. Exotic.

  Her eyes collided with his, and he was sure the lust was clear in his eyes. Her eyes didn’t have desire for him nor there was any flirting air about her.

  There was just smoldering hate.

  “You crushed his hands,” she said, maybe trying to deflect from the situation.

  “I did,” he simply confirmed. “And I would do it again.”

  There was no hesitation in his voice as he spoke.

  Then, Dahlia did something.

  She clasped her arms behind her, as if offering herself all over again.

  The sight of her made his mouth water and primal instinct hit him, to take what she was offering.

  Did she even know what she was doing?

  It was strange. Leo had tried to touch her, and she had attacked him. She wasn’t in battle mode anymore though. Maybe she feared him more than Leo.

  He arched an eyebrow, waiting for her to speak.

  “Are you going to do it here?” she asked, quietly.

  “Do what?” he questioned.

  He knew what she was insinuating, still he felt the need to ask.

  “What I offered,” she replied, casting her gaze to the ground. “Because you clearly don’t want the money.”

  She looked defeated.

  The hate and defiance he’d seen momentarily was gone.

  He wanted it back.

  He liked that little fire, the spirit she had shown.

  Vlad’s gaze dropped down to her swollen neck. He wanted to reach out and trace her delicate, soft skin with his fingers. Her pulse jumped in her throat as she swallowed hard. His eyes followed the direction of the little movement. Her was aware she was afraid, and she should be. A part of him liked her fear and relished it.

  “I haven’t decided what I want from you,” he lied.

  He knew exactly what he wanted.

  Dahlia’s head jerked up, confused before starin
g at him cautiously. “I’m not a hostage then?” she questioned.

  “No,” he replied.

  You never were. I just let you assume that.

  “I’ll send the maid to you with clothes and dinner. She’ll show you to your room where you will sleep.”

  Vlad turned around to leave.

  “Sleep?” Dahlia asked, with doubt in her voice.

  He paused, and his eyes met her confused ones.

  “Yes. You will sleep.”

  It wasn’t a request but an order.

  Then, he left her standing there.

  4

  Chapter 4

  The next morning, I woke up alone, wrapped in silk, white sheets.

  The finest sheets I had ever slept in. A luxury. I rubbed my skin against them, creating a soft, gentle caress. Every inch of this palace reminded me of the poverty I’d grown up in. The king-sized bed was on a platform. I wondered if it rotated. I took in the sight of the room. It was mainly white and silver. Chandeliers hung above me. The distance from the ceiling to where I lay surprised me. At least eighteen feet.

  I didn’t belong here.

  It was a room fit for a queen.

  There was a balcony, but when I had tried opening it last night, I’d realized it was locked.

  When I had tried the entrance door handle, I found that had been locked too.

  I rubbed my sleepy eyes, and I glanced at the empty side of the bed. I had probably slept a lot, but I was restless. I’d kept waking up throughout the night, twisting and turning, waiting for Don Vlad to show up.

  It surprised me he hadn’t slipped in last night. Shocked me even. I thought he would have done something by now. I knew it was coming though. I just didn’t know when. The Don was a mystery, and I still couldn’t figure him out.

  He seemed aloof and distanced.

  Calm yet calculating.

  Reserved yet ruthless.

  Yet, I remember every time how he had looked at me.

  Just then, there was a knock on the door.

  I jolted up from the bed and stared in apprehensive.

  Is it him?

  Why the hell would he knock anyway? It was his house.

  It was the maid, Mrs. Messana. She was an elderly lady in her late fifties with graying hair. She was short and plump, but she had kind brown eyes. Last night, she had given me clothes to change into, and she had given me a late-night dinner. It was roast beef with mashed potatoes.