Chapter 7 7
Bridget
I stay in Adriano’s suite today. When I wake up in the morning, the room is quiet and filled with soft light. At the foot of the bed, a large box waits for me. Inside, there is an elegant red dress, neatly folded, and beside it a pair of sharp stilettos. A small note rests on top.
“Be ready by 11 a.m. We have a meeting to attend at 1 p.m.”
Adriano De Costa.
My hand trembles as I read it. A meeting? What kind of meeting needs a dress like this?
I step out of my room, but Adriano is already gone. The suite feels too big and too silent with only me inside it. I go to the kitchen, open the fridge, and take out a sandwich. I spread chocolate on it and brew myself a strong cup of coffee. It is a strange breakfast, but it comforts me. After eating, I carry my cup and walk out to the terrace.
From up here, the city looks distant. All I see are tall buildings and the rooftop swimming pool nearby. Because the suite is on the highest floor, I cannot hear the noise of traffic or people. The busy city below feels far away.
The swimming pool shines under the bright sun. The water sparkles and calls to me. Without thinking, I slip out of my pajamas and jump into the pool wearing only my panties. No bra. The cold water shocks me at first, then slowly relaxes me.
I swim back and forth, letting the water wash away my thoughts. After a while, I float on my back, my face turned toward the sun, my eyes closed. The warmth feels good. I stay like this for almost twenty minutes, completely unaware of everything else.
When I finally open my eyes, my breath catches.
Adriano stands right in front of the pool. One hand rests in his pocket. The other holds a cigar that is not lit yet. He looks calm, confident, and dangerous.
“Done enjoying my pool?” he asks calmly.
Panic hits me. I remember instantly that I am not wearing a bra. I cover myself and turn my back to him.
“Just leave!” I shout.
“No,” he replies, amusement clear in his voice.
I climb out of the pool quickly, grab my pajamas, and pull them on. Adriano does not move. This time, the cigar is lit. Smoke curls around him as he watches me slowly, his eyes dark and sharp. The look he gives me is full of desire, heavy and unsettling.
“I’ve already seen it,” he says flatly. “What are you hiding now?”
“Asshole,” I whisper under my breath as I walk past him toward the door.
Suddenly, his hand closes around my wrist, and he pulls me back hard.
“What did you call me?” he asks, glaring down at me.
I try to pull free, but it is useless. He is much stronger than me. My heart pounds.
“Asshole,” I say again, louder this time.
He pulls me closer, his face only inches from mine. “You are going to regret this,” he says, a devilish smirk forming on his lips. Then he lets go.
I rush inside the suite and run straight to my bedroom, my heart racing.
After showering, I slowly get ready. I put on the satin red dress and the new heels. To my surprise, the dress fits me perfectly, hugging my body in all the right places. I hate to admit it, but Adriano De Costa has excellent taste. I apply some makeup and leave my long hair straight and loose.
When I finish, I walk into the living room. Adriano sits there. He lifts his gaze to me and says nothing, but his eyes say everything. He is impressed.
He stands and reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a bracelet. Not just any bracelet. It is made of diamonds, sparkling under the light.
“What is this for?” I ask.
He takes my hand and fastens it around my wrist. “My assistant should look expensive, just like me,” he mutters.
The words make me uncomfortable.
“Am I not your maid?” I ask.
“You are,” he replies calmly. “But we also agreed you would be my personal assistant when needed.”
He lets go of my hand, and I stare at the bracelet.
“I can’t accept this,” I say quietly.
“Just wear it,” he snaps. “We are getting late. Let’s go.”
I nod and follow him.
The car ride is silent. Neither of us speaks. When we reach the harbor, he parks the car and steps out. I follow, confused. Where is this meeting? In the middle of the sea?
Adriano hands me a file and walks toward a yacht. I follow closely. The yacht is large and black. Before stepping aboard, he offers me his hand. I take it. Written in gold on the side of the yacht are the words The Corrupted Royals. My stomach tightens. He owns this too.
Inside, there is a luxurious lounge and a bar. I sit down.
“Where is the meeting?” I ask quietly.
“It’s on a private island,” he says. “A mob boss owns a villa there. We will attend the meeting there.” He lights a cigarette, takes a drag, then removes it. “They are very traditional. I will introduce you as my fiancée so I can sign the contract.”
My lips part. “Why do I have to play your fiancée?”
“They believe in family stability,” he explains firmly. “He will only give the contract to a man who is serious about life. You owe me, and you are one of my maids. So, you can definitely do this.”
I stay silent.
“And don’t be surprised if I kiss you or whisper sweet things,” he adds. “Just act natural.”
“Okay,” I murmur.
After two hours at sea, we reach an island surrounded by water on all sides. There is no escape from here. As I step off the yacht, my long dress tangles around my legs. Adriano helps me down, then suddenly lifts me by the waist and places me on the grass like I weigh nothing.
I adjust my dress, holding the file tightly. Adriano leans forward and kisses me deeply. I gasp. He bites my lip gently, then pulls back, his dark eyes locked onto mine.
“Didn’t I tell you to act right when I kiss you?” he says firmly.
“I didn’t expect you to kiss me like that,” I say, still stunned.
“You shouldn’t expect anything from me, Bridget.”
I sigh and nod. “Okay, sir,” I whisper.
He takes my hand, and we walk toward a huge white villa. A man and his wife wait at the entrance. They look powerful and dangerous. The woman wears a long golden dress. She has blonde bob cut hair. The man wears a navy suit. He is tall, broad, bald, with tattoos on his knuckles.
Adriano hugs the man and kisses the woman’s hand. I greet her with kisses on both cheeks. The man takes my hand and kisses the back of it.
“Meet Mr. and Mrs. Romano, members of the Corrupted Royals crime famiglia,” Adriano says.
“Hello,” I say with a smile.
“This is Bridget Rossi, my fiancée,” Adriano adds.
The word fiancée makes my palms sweat, but I keep my smile steady.
Inside, the villa is enormous and lavish. We sit in the lounge as a butler brings champagne. I take a sip, feeling the bubbles dance on my tongue.
Adriano leans toward me. “All good, sugarplums?” he asks with a smirk.
Sugarplums. Seriously?
“Yes, I’m fine,” I say.
His hand rests on my thigh. “Comfortable?” he asks. His smile looks caring, or maybe he is just acting. I cannot tell.
“Yes, Adriano,” I reply softly.
“Good,” he says, taking the file from my lap. “The meeting starts in five minutes.”
“Okay,” I answer.
We finish our drinks. Adriano stands, and I stand with him. Mr. Romano leads us into a private meeting room inside the villa. The space is calm and quiet. Through the open windows, all I hear is the sound of the ocean, peaceful and dangerous at the same time.