22

22
Arabella

The folded slip of paper burned in my palm, my fingers curling tightly around it as I forced myself to keep moving.

The waiter who had slipped it to me walked ahead, pausing only briefly to glance back before disappearing into the crowd.

My heart thundered in my chest, but I couldn’t stop, couldn’t react. Not here. Not now.

Marco groaned against my side, his full weight pressing into me as I struggled to support him up the stairs. He was drunk; more than drunk.

His breath was hot against my neck as he leaned closer to whisper, “Arabella, my love.” He chuckled, his words slurred, the amused look in his eyes making me uneasy.

“God, you’re so hot,” he muttered, his grip tightening around my waist. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

I forced out a laugh, light and teasing, hoping he wouldn’t notice the tension in my body. “You’re drunk, Marco. I’ll just get you to your room.”

“And you’re beautiful,” he stated, giving me a long look as if seeing me for the first time that night. “You are so beautiful, Amore (Love).”

I swallowed hard, my eyes flickering behind me, searching for Six. He had been there, watching. I had felt his gaze burning into me, even as he stood next to Katherine. But now? He was gone. Vanished.

Panic set in, my heart pounding wildly. I was truly alone. The thought of what could happen if Marco and I were left by ourselves in his bedroom sent a fresh wave of anxiety through me.

I kept moving, leading Marco up the last step, and we stumbled into his bedroom. The door shut behind us with a quiet click, the sound louder in my ears than it should have been.

The room was cold, impersonal; expensive furniture, a massive bed, a painting that looked as though it had been taken from someone who actually understood it.

Nothing here felt real, nothing that felt his. It was as if he’d walked into a furniture store and bought the most expensive items he could find.

Marco stumbled forward, pulling me with him as he collapsed onto the bed. His weight pressed down on me, his arm draped heavily across my waist.

I held my breath, lying stiff beneath him as he mumbled incoherent words against my shoulder.

“Bella…” he drawled, murmuring something inaudible. “Bea—beautiful, it’s in your name even.”

My breath caught in my throat. My heart pounded so loudly I could hear it in my ears.

I needed to get out. I couldn’t stay here any longer. My thoughts went to Six. I wondered where he was, what he was thinking.

Did I ever cross his mind as much as he did mine? I wondered.

Marco groaned and leaned closer, pressing his body against me.

I froze, not wanting to move too much so I wouldn’t wake him.

I exhaled when Marco shut his eyes again. My mind wandered back to Six. He had barely met my eyes the entire time I was at the party.

Was it because of Katherine? Was he interested in her? Was he not jealous when he saw Marco with me?

I remembered how possessive he had been before - at the mall— when he seemed jealous of Marco touching me, but tonight, that emotion was missing. Had I imagined it?

The desperate part of me wanted him to feel these things, so badly, because it would justify the strong emotions I felt when I saw them together.

He kissed me, well, technically, we kissed, but he had leaned in first. What did that mean? My cheeks heated up at the thought of the kiss. There were so many questions I wanted to ask.

I let out a big exhale. I had to get out of here.

I stayed still, listening. His breathing slowed and steadied. The rise and fall of his chest became deep and rhythmic.

Carefully—slowly—I wriggled out from beneath him. His arm slipped from my waist, landing heavily against the mattress. He stirred but didn’t wake.

I didn’t wait to see if he would.

I bolted.

I barely registered the cold air as I hurried down the stairs, my hands still clenched into fists.

The note felt heavier than it should have, but my mind was already racing toward something else, someone else, actually.

Then I saw him.

Six walked in from one of the side doors, fixing his tie as Katherine stepped in beside him.

Her cheeks were apple red, her lips twitching like she was trying to suppress a giggle.

Something sharp twisted in my stomach.

Six’s eyes met mine across the hall. We walked toward each other, our steps deliberate, measured.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice quieter than I meant it to be.

He nodded once. No hesitation, no flicker of emotion.

I looked at him, then at Katherine, who was still stealing glances at us, her blush deepening. My chest tightened.

“You two look like you… fucked,” I said, the words slipping out before I could stop them. My cheeks turned a bright red. Way to go, Arabella, let him know you’re jealous.

Six had a blank expression on his face. “I could say the same about you and Marco.”

“What?” My brows furrowed, my eyes searching his. There was nothing there. No jealousy, no anger; just smooth, unreadable indifference. He was either masking it well, or he didn’t feel anything about it.

A strange ache settled in my chest.

I shook my head, pushing the thought away. “I have something important—”

“What is it?”

“I received a note. I think it’s from Don Cor—”

“Have wine, would you?” Six cut in, his voice suddenly high-pitched as he snatched a flute from a passing waiter’s tray.

I blinked. “What—”

He cleared his throat dramatically, taking a slow sip of his drink before lowering the glass. “Don’t mention names, Arabella. Ever.”

I exhaled sharply. “So do we need code names? What do I call them?”

He rolled his eyes. “Really?”

I grabbed his arm. “Seriously, Six, I need your help.”

He looked around. “Arabella, there are people watching.”

“That’s why you’ve got to say yes. You have to agree to help me. The note has an email address; maybe he wants us to communicate there. You know that everything I do, Marco monitors me. I can’t do this without your help…” I begged. “Do— he’s my only option to be free. You have to help me, Six.”

He didn’t say a word. He stood straight, his hands behind his back. It was impossible to tell what was going through his mind behind those midnight-black eyes.

I slowly pulled away. He was right. People were watching. I couldn’t be touching him like this. Marco may not be in the room, but his men and loyalists were. I bowed my head in defeat.

I completely understood if he didn’t want to help me. I mean, why would he put himself at risk for a stranger he barely knew?

I was asking for a lot. I was still lost in thought when he passed me a new champagne flute.

“Here.”

“Thank you,” my voice was barely above a whisper as I took it from him. I drank it in one gulp. I had to find a way.

I had to find a phone—one Marco hadn’t cloned. I had to communicate with the Don. He was my ticket to freedom.

I blinked repeatedly. A tightness began to form in my chest. “It’s quite hot,” I muttered to Six, fanning myself with my hand. “Do you feel it?” I asked him.

He shook his head. “No, are you okay?”

But his voice sounded distant.

“I don’t know…” I looked ahead, and my eyes met his. Marco. He was standing at the stairs. I swallowed, a feeling of panic settling in. “Marco…” I called out in the softest whisper.

“Arabella?” Six called to me. I could hear the worry in his voice, but it sounded farther away.

“Six, I’m not…” I groaned and dropped to the floor.

Marco’s eyes widened in panic. “Arabella!” he shouted, running toward me.

“Bella, Bella,” Six called softly, crouching over me, trying to cradle my head.

My eyelids fluttered. The voices around me grew even more distant. As everything turned dark, the last thing I saw was Six’s concerned face hovering over mine.