Chapter 42 La Festa 🥂
❦ Rosalind ❦
Juliana’s response to my fears was to call in more soldatos. According to her, this party was unmissable. Not even to save our lives.
Rafe and Rocco put in calls to track any sightings of a black Ferrari Monza, but for some reason, I knew they would never find the man.
On the drive to the exclusive and invite-only party Juliana had secured for us, she pressed me about what was going on that fueled my paranoia.
The star-studded ceiling of the Rolls-Royce reflected off her statement earrings as she turned to face me directly.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, Rosa. I’ve avoided this conversation because you didn’t offer, so I trusted your instincts. But I’ve never seen you so rattled.”
Her sincere gaze pierced into me. I didn’t want to scare her by laying all the facts bare. But I also didn’t want her unprepared and uninformed about the state of things.
“Long story short, I feel like I’m making a mistake. I’m trying to be on top of things, but I can’t help the feeling that… I’m looking in the wrong direction in seeking justice for Papa.”
Her palm squeezed my thigh, pulling the red fabric of my dress a little lower.
“You’re doing great. Better than I expected, I won’t lie. When you left, and in the state you did… I expected you to pack up shop and just return, hide, cower. But you didn’t. Look at you, holding on to your Papa’s legacy while using wit, not violence, to bring the killer to justice. That’s incredibly brave. And the fact that you haven’t succeeded only means this runs far deeper than you know. Maybe you should go back to the beginning, most times, that’s where the answers usually are.”
I inhaled her vanilla scent, letting it ground me, her words already strengthening me.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate you.”
“Anytime, fiorellina.”
She pressed a light kiss to my cheek.
“Let’s knock ’em dead,” she whispered in the space, her excited gaze meeting mine.
Oh, they will be knocked dead at the sight of the millimeter of my bare ass teasing the cold air.
Juliana’s slit teased the strap of her lingerie at her hip. I only hoped we weren’t walking into one of those orgy-intended types of gatherings. I love her, but I didn’t trust her one bit in that regard.
Four more soldatos who were nearby in the city pulled up to join us at the curb of the lavish, old-money-looking castle.
Juliana grinned proudly at the look of awe on my face.
“If you’re going to risk your life, you might as well do it in heels at Oheka Castle.”
Vintage cars and blacked-out luxury SUVs dotted the circular motor court, adding flair to the French-style chateau.
We walked toward the main entrance, which was flanked by twin staircases. Rafe and Rocco, dressed in black high-end suits that made their already dangerous aura flare, covered us on both sides.
I noticed no other cars arriving, and the castle was silent. Had we arrived too early?
My skin began to prickle from nerves, worsened by the high ceiling and the clicking sound of our heels that echoed around us.
“What sort of party…”
“Shh!” Juliana hushed. Her silhouette looked like she pressed a finger to her lips, that’s how dark it was inside.
Feeling boxed in and unsafe, I took a step backward, only to hit a hard body. Rafe or Rocco, at this point I didn’t care.
My already sprung senses picked up shuffling in the corner, footsteps? Whispers?
“It’s not safe…”
A blinding spotlight came on, pointed at me. I raised a hand over my eyes.
“SURPRISE!!!” came a deafening chorus that rooted me to the ground.
The spotlight broke up into tiny fragments of light from the ceiling that illuminated a crowd of well-dressed people holding champagne flutes, bottles, and gift boxes.
Light jazz blared from unseen speakers, the energy instantly turning bougie.
I struggled to catch my breath, my eyes roaming over the familiar and strange faces that swarmed me.
Cold, warm, hard, and soft hands took turns cupping mine and wishing me a happy birthday.
I spied Juliana off to the side with an accomplished grin on her face.
A feeling like a thousand fluttering butterflies overflowed in my chest to the point I thought I would open my lips and the beautiful bugs would fly out.
As the shock and surprise wore off, I began to recognize a few in attendance.
Marcus, Luca, some of my capos, journalists, and others.
It was packed!
I felt like art on display with how eyes roamed over me appreciatively, and the smiles and merriment instantly took my edge off.
Juliana soon came back to me with two flutes of clear liquid in her hands.
“Birthday girl!” she said with a shimmy.
“You did this.” I accused lightheartedly, tears threatening to flow.
Her face turned serious immediately. “Bitch, we paid two thousand for your makeup, don’t you fucking dare cry on me.”
I said nothing, pulling her into a hug. “Thank you,” I whispered, my heart full.
I wanted this. Needed it. And somehow, even when I thought I didn’t deserve it in the middle of the chaos, she pulled through for me.
“Anytime, mami. Here, it’s your night! I picked that dress for a reason, go off!”
We giggled like schoolgirls and tipped the drinks back at the same time.
“Rosalind.”
I turned to the voice.
“Happy birthday. Your new age suits you. Watching you grow into a beautiful, smart young woman is the highlight of my own old age.”
“Oh Marcus, thank you,” I said, touched, and hugged him.
With a smooth nod, he moved past, said something to Juliana, and melted into the crowd.
Juliana danced closer to me. “Okay, don’t look, but he’s staring, okay? Push your shoulders back and sell it.”
“What? Who?” I was already turning out of curiosity, but she snatched my jaw back toward her.
“He looks hungry for you,” she said suggestively. “Viktor.”
My stomach dropped. I didn’t need to turn to know. My skin had already recognized his heat, his gaze, like being branded without flames.
“What! You invited HIM?” I whispered furiously.
“Of course. Good luck!” she grinned, clueless to the hurricane she’d just walked me into.
She shimmied out of my sight before I could strangle her. Ugh. I should’ve known, though, she didn’t know what was really going on. That he was El Diablo, skinner of soldatos, coercer of brides, my fiancé. How was she even able to contact him?
Thankfully, before I could spot him, another familiar face came along.
“Absolutely ravishing as always, Rosalind.”
Dominic held out a hand, his appreciative gaze sending a hot blush into my cheeks.
“It’s good to see you again, Dominic. How are you?”
“Alive, thankfully. I should’ve reached out after that ugly affair in Tribeca, but you’ve been hard to reach.”
“Oh it’s fine. I’m glad you’re in one piece. I much prefer it that way.”
His laughter tinkled.
“That‘s good to know. Could I be deserving of a dance on this fine night of yours?”
I bit my lip at him, feeling sexy from the booze. “Of course.”
“I’ll find you.”
“Why not right now?” I said, knowing full well I needed a buffer, something, anything to take my mind off the man burning a hole into my spine.
“Because you seem to have others who haven’t wished you yet.” He raised my palm to his lips, placing a gentle kiss there. “Happy birthday.”
I followed his confident walk through the crowd toward the bar, concentrating on his form in an attempt to ignore the searing heat on my back.
Every step he took closer to me pebbled my skin with goosebumps, the seconds ticking like a time bomb.
I don’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t his arms slipping under mine and clasping my waist, his hard, hot body pressed against me from behind.
My legs instantly puddled, and I thought I would sink to the floor if I hadn’t been supported by his strong hands at my waist.
His breath tickled the back of my ear, and I pressed the glass to my lips to prevent a moan.
“Every second away from you…” His voice grazed my neck. “Is torture.”