Chapter 63 : They Won't Hurt You
Chapter 63: They Won't Hurt You
Sophie
I looked down at the rings glittering on my fingers. They were so beautiful like the ones I had lost during the fire outbreak in my apartment.
“We got it remadem.” Angelo said as while they were sliding it on my fingers. His eyes lingering on my ring finger.
Now I was on their private jet, feeling sad because I was going away from them. They had brought me to the airport, Angelo drove right in front of the jet and then they kissed me goodbye.
“Mine?” They said, pressing kisses on me.
“I am yours.” I whispered back as if a reflex, yet I mean every word. When I walked out of the car, I felt their eyes on me and tears burned in my eyes.
I hadn't looked back, if I did, I would have cried on their lap like a little baby, begging them to take me back home. Home? It was overwhelming how much they meant to me, they brought danger with them yes, but they brought love as well. I leaned back into my seat, watching Nia swirl her stylus on her tablet, her hair falling over her porcelain skin and her eyes were the exact shade of her hair. She was thirteen, a newly tuned teenager with a passion for art that mirrored mine. I would have talked to her a little about art but I was so sad so I curled on my seat and took my sketchbook out. Tim, who is her father as I had come to know, was sitting nearby. There were ten bodyguards in the jet. I looked out of the tiny window beside my seat, the clouds looked beautiful and before I knew it, my hand was working the charcoal pencils on the sketchbook and about an hour had passed by.
And a face was peeking at my sketchbook from behind my seat with wide eyes.
“Wow,” Nia gasped.
“Really wow,”
I smiled, feeling a little blush come on my cheeks, I was sort of used to getting compliments on my art but I was used to criticism more. I appreciated art critics, they made artists better but most of them made me cry. I wasn't good at taking criticism as an artist should be.
“You can have it if you want.” I said, she grinned at me.
“Really?” I nodded, ripping the sheet from the sketchbook and gave it to her. She took it in her hands as if it was a glass and ran to her father, showing it to him. He nodded stiffly.
“It looks good, Miss. Taylor.” I smiled at him.
“Thank you, Tim.” I replied.
He had refused to call me Sophie. The rest of the flight was actually pretty interesting, Nia was really good at digital art and yet she possessed knowledge of art history.
‘To understand something, princess, you need to know its past.’ My father had said, pulling out a large book from his bookshelf.
‘You love art, you know where it comes from first.’
My father was always a man with great words and better works. Yet the universe had been cruel to him, now he was a shadow of the man he used to be. The fingers which were always stained with colors appeared to be strained in blood.
‘It is your fault.’ a whisper echoed in my head.
‘It is my fault.’ I agreed silently.
Lucas Santoro was waiting beside a black sports car as I stepped down from the yet.
“Miss, Taylor.” He said as he opened the door of the car for me.
“Nice to meet you again.”
“N..nice to meet you too, Mr. Santoro.” I whispered, hating my stutter and entered the car. He got into the driver's seat, his sunglasses on his nose as he drove out of the airport.
“You are shaking.” He said beside me. I was really shaking because I was scared.
‘They are not going to hurt you,’ Rizzo promised.
“I..” I didn't have an answer to that, I was scared of them. So sacred that I could barely breathe. I had a plan, they would give me a room and I would step out of it only when extremely necessary and in that way, I would be able to avoid them.
“I am not going to hurt you.” He muttered.
“I value my balls.” He added.
Now, this is so confusing. Why the hell did the Santoros listen to the Rizzos?
“Okay,” I whispered, nodding my head. He hummed and soon we were on a wide road. We drove for a long time and I soon lost track. I was mesmerized by the artwork on my phone, that artist was so brilliant.
Soon, we stopped in front of a stone house which was surrounded by trees with men in black all over it like bees on a beehive. He drove the car into a garage and stepped out, opening the door for me before I could. He helped me out of the car. We walked into the house, Nia and her father walked to a smaller building beside the house. The interior was luxurious which reminded me of Rizzo's mansion. On the left was a large kitchen I predicted Adriano would like and beside it was a staircase that led to the next floor. The living room was spacious with a large television and couches arranged in a u-form in front of it. The walls had nothing, it is a safe house, Sophie and not a home.
“The first door to the left upstairs is your room.” He said as a man walked inside with my three large bags and one small bag in his hands.
“My room?” He nodded, toward a door nearby.
“Do come to me if you need anything, I know you probably won't. So Miss. Rivera is here.” He said and a short lady walked out of the kitchen. I had not even noticed her there.
She was another inch shorter than me and dressed in a cleaner uniform which covered her plum body fully. Her hair was braided and trailing down her arms and on her long nose, sat dark framed glasses. Her highlighter was on point on her dark skin, illuminating her features. She was beautiful and appeared to be in her mid-fifties.
“Miss. Rivera is a dear friend to the Rizzos and Nia’s grandmother.” He said.
“She will keep you company and keep you safe if you wish to leave the safe house for any reason which would be under disguise always.”
Wait, what? A friend to the Rizzo's and Nia's grandmother?