“You’ll have to figure out a way to fix this, Belladonna. I’m so angry with you I can barely even stand to look in your direction right now.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize he wasn’t pleased with me. He never once gave me that impression and I feel terrible that he didn’t.” I try and tell her, but she’s risen so quickly and slaps her hand across my face.
The stinging burn jolts me into a shock. I’ve worked for her for . . . years, and never has she treated me in such a way. I don’t think she’s ever slapped any of her girls.
Her nostrils flare and I’m subject to the true anger she holds within herself. “You will do whatever you have to do. Is that understood? You’ve fucked up badly, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to rectify the loss you’ve brought our way.”
I back away slowly, feeling tears well from behind my eyes. Something doesn’t feel right about this and until I know what it is I won’t be able to rest easily. I still have a little over a year and a half on my contract. I simply need to make sure I get out of it as soon as possible, keep my head low and move forward.
“Yes, I understand. If y-you’ll e-excuse me I need to make myself s-scarce.” I mutter out, choking through my words so I can fight holding back tears. I manage to exit her office and shut the door behind me, but as I look in front of me I can tell everyone in the foyer has heard everything.
“My God . . . Belladonna, are you okay?” Lila questions, looking rather concerned.
“I’m fine,” I reply back, dismissing her.
Not only was it bad enough having that conversation with Miss. Bianchi, but everyone hearing every word is a level of embarrassment I never wished to reach.
Chapter 17
Davide
It’s hard to believe yesterday I walked into that brothel before Blanka arrived and struck a deal with the woman in charge. I ended up paying a handsome penny for Blanka’s freedom, but it was well worth it. I would’ve paid billions for the woman, I’m sure. I didn’t do this so I could own her and I asked Miss. Bianchi to not let her know I was the one who bought her out of her contract. The last thing I want her to feel is like she owes me for doing this. Like she’s obligated to reach out and come see me. If she felt the same way that I have, she’ll come to me on her own. I must have faith in that.
When I arrived there earlier for this meeting I was made aware how Blanka’s sister obtained a job at the same brothel. Miss. Bianchi tried to get me to start using Regina as a working girl . . . and quite honestly, she isn’t my type. She even made it a point to introduce the two of us.
To an ordinary man she might not have seemed sneaky, but not to me. The expression of sin crossing her face with those pursed lips and narrowing eyes made me feel one thing, and one thing only— the woman is a snake. She’s up to no good, and it didn’t make me feel at ease knowing Blanka would be going back to the brothel later in the day. I needed to assure her safety, so I’ve arranged for a few of my men to keep an eye on this Regina. Something about her is incredibly unsettling, even if the two are sisters.
I glance up at the clock in my office and figure Blanka should’ve arrived back at the brothel right now. I wonder if she’s packing her bags and is ready to leave, off to a new adventure. I tap my finger repeatedly on the front of my phone, thinking about calling her, but ultimately I fight the urge.
This will all be pointless if I don’t let her make her own decision. I can’t interfere or try to sway her like I normally would.
The sound of my doorbell being rung echoes throughout the house. Figuring I’d be tempted to alter fate, I invited Carla and Philippe over for dinner. They’re in Italy on holiday. Although, I don’t know if we can call it a vacation for them. They’re also here scouting new potential properties to bring another one of Carla’s restaurants to Rome. Before they were married Carla had opened a restaurant in Seattle I believe . . . or at least I think it was Seattle? Who the hell knows. All I can remember is that it was in the Pacific North-Western United States.
I head downstairs and go to the door. Normally a member of my staff would get the door for me. However, I gave them all the day off to do what they wanted. If I’m being honest, I knew today would make me a miserable man to be around. It’s not usually bad to have staff helping sort the variety of issues that appear in a massive household like mine, but sometimes I do feel like they’re watching me, being snoopy and whatnot. I know it’s only paranoia, so I figured I’d do some damage control as well, even if it was simply offering them a relaxing day off with full pay.
Opening the door I’m met with Philippe and Carla’s smiling faces. “How are you my friends?” I ask, giving them both a hug and kissing Carla on the cheek.
“We’re doing fabulous. Italy has never been more beautiful,” Carla mews, walking through my front door into my foyer. Her husband follows suit.
“I would say she’s lying, but we both know she isn’t.” Philippe adds.
“Italy is one of the most beautiful countries. I will never once complain about being stationed here by Mariana or Ion.”
“Agreed, because we could swipe it up from you.” Philippe jokes.
I chuckle lightly at Philippe and motion for them both to follow me in the formal dining room. I had a decent sized bar area added not long ago. As we all know, I’m a man who enjoys the finer things in life, specifically the finer alcohols. “Would either of you care for a drink?”
“Yes, please. After listening to realtors attempting to sway us on multiple properties today I could use it. Do you know how much I hate it when they act as if we don’t understand what the monetary value in a property is, opposed to what the potential will be when certain parts of the city grow? It’s mind-boggling how dumb they think we are. It pisses me off too.” Carla shoots out, causing both Philippe and I to nod in agreement and laugh.
“Anyone in real estate always wants to feel like they’re the ones in control. It’ll never stop, Carla. Even with how smart we are, we’re always going to appear dumb or uneducated in what we’re looking for in those luxury realtors’ minds.” I tell her.
I instantly grab my usual tequila and give Carla a look who nods. “Yes, please.” Without thinking I pour Philippe one and then myself.
We spend the next couple hours discussing Clan issues, bringing up a few individuals who have made some problems appear for other Clan families and what our own theories are. All in all, things have been relatively quiet for a bit . . . but they never are for long. If anything, the past has taught us that.
Over the course of a few hours, we’re all five . . . or maybe eight drinks in? I can’t remember. All I do remember is Carla going behind the bar and she started pouring drinks.
“Where is Belladonna?” Philippe asks, looking around.
“I was wondering the same thing. We both figured she’d be here this evening.” Carla adds.
Running my hand over my face, I could keep up the façade that Belladonna is actually my girlfriend, or I could let my friends in on the truth. “Belladonna’s real name is Blanka, and she was working at a brothel in Venice when you originally met her. At that time, she was on about a month long contract with me. She isn’t here tonight because I let her go,”
“You fired her?” Carla questions. Fuck, I should’ve elaborated.
“No, I mean that when you care about something you let them go. Like, you don’t keep a beautiful dove locked in a cage. I went to her Madame and paid off her contract so she could be free.” I tell them.
Carla smiles brightly and Philippe nods. “That was very kind of you.”
“No, it wasn’t kind. It was simply the right thing to do.” I declare.
Yet, as I say it, a sinking feeling hits me deep in my stomach. I feel as though I want to vomit, but at the same time I miss her company. I miss seeing her face first thing in the morning when I wake up, and right before I go to sleep.
“You’re in love with her, Davide.” Carla speaks up.
I could try to deny it, but
I don’t. I nod in agreement with my friend. “That I am, and if she feels the same toward me she’ll reach out. Or at least, that’s my hope.”
“What will you do if she doesn’t?” Philippe asks.
I inhale sharply, “I won’t do anything. It’ll be a sign that we weren’t meant to work out.” I can only hope and pray she will reach out to me, because I don’t want to imagine what my life will be like without her. Not when I got so used to her being in it with me.
Chapter 18
Davide
If Blanka was going to reach out by now, she very well would’ve. It’s obvious to me that things were completely one sided, and while it’s unexpected, I’ll simply have to deal with things the way they are now.
I’ve been keeping busy, managing the fights and am more involved with certain Clan endeavors than I’ve ever been previously. Keeping busy is the only thing that eases my mind at the moment. I’m slowly turning into a bitter, angry man. I don’t want to be like this, however I know I wouldn’t have ever been able to avoid this. It’s only natural, right? To feel hurt when someone disappoints you?
Ah, well. I’ll simply have to get over it. Or at least that’s what I’ve told myself for weeks. I made it a point to hammer into my mind that I’m a man. I don’t have the option to feel the way I do and I need to grow up, put my big boy pants on and get the fuck over it. Blanka disappointed me. Many people disappoint me. She’s no different than the rest. Yet, it hasn’t been so easy to make myself think in this manner.
My friendship with Philippe and Carla is slowly growing. She even called me this morning and offered to set me up with a friend of hers. I politely refused, and appreciate how she wants me to be happy but . . . it’s far too soon. Or maybe I’m simply not ready to move into something remotely close to the hurt I still feel in my heart.
But Carla . . . oh Carla Sala isn’t a woman who accepts a no when she doesn’t want someone to say it to her. She sent the woman over to my estate and encouraged me to have dinner with this woman. She’s beautiful. She has flowing curly hair that wisps together at the bottom. It’s in a cherry red you’d think isn’t natural, but every part of this girl has the same color. From her eyebrows to the landing strip I’m now staring at as she begs me to fuck her.
I can’t, though. I’m limp. It’s like I’m a sixty year old who struggles to keep it up. The girl, Lane, asks me what’s wrong and how she can fix it. She offers to do a plethora of things to excite me and I honestly wonder if Carla sent me another working girl. She said she knew her personally though . . . I wonder if this woman is just someone they’ve had a sexual relationship with.
Lane gets frustrated with me after I tell her it isn’t her, it’s just me. Of course she makes a big to-do about the entire issue, puts her clothes back on and exits the estate in a rush of emotion. I can’t blame the girl. I’d be pissed too if I wanted to get fucked and the date led nowhere. It’s not that she wasn’t beautiful or anything like that. The problem is, well— she isn’t the woman I want.
Feeling bad about the ordeal I call Carla and we have a lengthy discussion about what transpired this evening. I apologize for hurting her friend’s feelings and whatnot, but I can’t apologize for being this way. I’m hurt, and I feel broken. I’d never uttered those words to anyone, but the moment I say them everything comes pouring out. I admit how I never thought love would be the thing to break me, how I naturally assumed it would be a bullet since those tend to take down men like me in the business we’re all in.
She tells me how it’s only natural to feel this way, but I don’t buy it. How can it be natural and expected to feel this horrid? I ask her that question, and her answer surprises me. She tells me how there isn’t a rulebook for love, how it’s supposed to be this grand, fuzzy feeling we can’t live without . . . but it can also wreck our entire world. Carla goes on to tell me she believes Blanka was the first woman I’ve ever loved, and I can’t even deny it. I’d never felt the way I did about her with anyone else. Fuck, I was envisioning so much with her.
The worst part of it all is when I started having these fantasy like dreams, imagining her in my kitchen making me breakfast in the morning after a long night. I saw her with two doting children in one. They were the perfect combination of the two of us . . . and I’ve never been so tortured in all my life.
I either want this all to stop, or I want to feel nothing. One or the other. Quite frankly, I don’t care which it is. I simply can’t keep feeling this way for much longer. It’ll physically be the death of me.
Though, Carla makes one last statement which rocks me to my core. She tells me how love didn’t break me, or break her some time ago. We were already broken prior to allowing love in our hearts, and it’s how we choose to deal with it that makes a difference. I don’t know what I’m going to do yet, although I’m certain I’ll manage to think of something.
Chapter 19
Blanka/Belladonna
The man on top of me grunts and groans as I feel him quiver inside of me. The noise he makes sounds more like a man who has been kicked in the groin rather than a man who is experiencing pleasure, but who am I to judge?
This is the fifth client I have taken on just this week, most of them in and out in quick succession, pun intended.
These were not necessarily the gems, the long term clients. These were lonely men whose wives couldn't or wouldn't give them what they wanted, or men who couldn't please a woman well enough to keep one. One of them might have even been a virgin trying to lose it once and for all with the way he had acted.
These classy fellows were my punishment. They were my punishment from Bianchi, for ruining a good thing with such a high paying client as Davide. They were my penance for almost falling for someone who was a client. They were my torment for whatever I did that made Davide let me go.
It is all of these wrapped into one, and I can feel it more than ever as my adrenaline comes down, wholly satisfied by my lack of pleasure. But that’s how it goes sometimes.
There is never passion or care, and anything I get out of it is a bonus.
And the men I was being handed lately, they were not going to make my toes curl much.
We say our goodbyes, and I send him packing, a bonus handed to me in cash that I tuck away inside a wad of hosiery in the back of my drawer.
Raquel comes into the room, her hair in a top knot as she does a cat walk to her bed before falling down into it.
"Bitch, how many guys is that this week? Are you rolling in it?" she asks, flipping over to her stomach, her legs in the air as if this is grade school. Like we are just a couple of gal pals about to gossip about boys.
While I don't have that kind of personality; I am more of an adventurer and a diva, there is something about her immaturity and bubbliness that makes this place more bearable. If I didn't know any better, I would think she was one of the few who does actually enjoy this line of work.
But she's easy to please. She finds joy in everything while I'm a sulker.
Oh well, I can thank Mama for that part of me.
"If you mean in a pile of merda thanks to Bianchi and her hatred of me now, then lots."
She makes a face, even funnier because of her full, fake lips. I don't know if she has bees sting them or does the bottle challenge, but they are always so damn big. "That bad, huh? Not getting off much?"
I lay on the bed, my long hair cascading down the side like a waterfall. "No, not really. These are the quickie types. Probably never see them again either," I explain. She nods sympathetically, likely having them in her bed a time or two.
"You going to go out on the town today now that the deed is done?" She wiggles her eyebrows at me, and I have to smile. She is contagious sometimes.
"I usually would, but I have an appointment today. Not too long from now." I make it sound like it’s no big deal. Not at all what it actually is. I'm sure she’ll assume it's a checkup with a doctor or something, which is normal for us with all the men who think we're glorified cum
dumpsters.
But this is with someone entirely different than a doctor; not a date either, though.
"Okay, well if you change your mind, I'm up for it. I've been meaning to go see a movie, haven't been to the theatre in forever."
"Rain check?"
She gives me a thumbs up before rolling over with her phone in her hand, probably flirting with men online. She never meets them, but Raquel thinks it’s fun to dream about doing so.
Me, I think it’s too dangerous, especially now, in case your heart gets involved. Never go for what you know you can't have. Disillusionment is much worse than lack of hope to begin with.
I make myself as presentable and professional looking as I can without causing suspicion. I put my hair up in a bun and wear a black dress that doesn’t show off too much skin. Hopefully, this will be enough to be taken seriously because who I'm meeting could change my entire future.
I walk to the cafe, flats on instead of my usual heels, hoping that the man I am supposed to see there can help me.
My thoughts have been consumed by very few things over the past several days.
Other than wracking my brain for what could have happened with Davide, it's been my want ... no, my need to get out of my contract and have my own life.
Bianchi and her behavior has solidified it. I will not be treated this way after all these years. I am experienced. I follow the rules to the letter. She doesn't seem to want to get over her initial anger at a decision Davide made, not me. I don't answer for him.
And if he trusts her brothel, he’ll be back. Just not for me.
So, it's time to carve my own path. No more waiting. My future is coming soon.
Venomous (The Clans Book 11) Page 9