Page 76 of Deal with the Devil
“A message. From him.”
I rattle out a breath, then grab the envelope, slitting it open without care for how elegant or expensive it looks. My brows raise as I read the short message.
“We’re meeting tonight at seven? For what reason?”
“He has plans for you,” she says cryptically. “Apparently tonight will be different.”
I narrow my eyes. “Different how?”
She tilts her head, almost apologetic. “He’s taking you out.”
I blink. “Out as in…?”
“A date to the opera. Just the two of you.”
20
PORTIA
The mirror reflectsa woman I haven’t seen in weeks—shoulders bare, lips tinted a rose red, barrel curls loose, tumbling over one side. The gown is a shade of navy blue, off-the-shoulder with a sweetheart neckline and lace bodice. Satin drapes the skirt portion, hugging my hips, highlighting their curviness in the most flattering manner possible.
I look like some old Hollywood starlet.
If it were any other occasion, I’d feel gorgeous and sexy. But instead I feel sick to my stomach. My reflection is nothing more than a reminder I’m dressed for him.
That tonight I’m going to be spending the night with him.
I have no choice in the matter. What else is new?
Since I’ve been taken captive by the Belluccis, I’ve had little choice in anything that’s gone on.
Daniela comes up from behind with a sheepish, almost apologetic bend to her mouth. She holds up a pair of sapphire gemstone earrings that dazzle in the bedroom lighting.
“These are for you to put on,” she says in a gentle tone. “His wishes.”
I sigh, barely fighting off a roll of my eyes. “Right… when isn’t it?”
Daniela helps pin on the sapphire earrings and then looks me over one final time, fussing with the train of my dress and a flyaway hair at the back of my head.
“Bellissima,” she says, nodding her approval. “He’ll be satisfied with the results.”
“That almost makes me want to ruin the dress…”
Daniela gives me a mortified look and then grabs me by the hand to lead me out of the room. The idea I could be serious terrifies her to the bone; probably because it wouldn’t just be my ass on the line if I were to do such a thing.
She’d be punished too.
We hurry down the wide staircase like I’m Cinderella and we’re late for the ball.
In reality, I’m not rushing off to meet my Prince Charming at all. It’s exactly the opposite.
The man that waits for me at the foot of the stairs might bear his face and even inhabit his body, but he’s the devil incarnate.
The mask he wears isn’t just for show.
Il Diavolo is the manifestation of every bad part about Rafael.
All the darkest pieces of him concentrated into an entirely separate being. As we scurry down the steps and he peers up at me, my stomach ripples with nerves for what could be in store.
