“Who doesn’t want a little danger in bed? Legs up, legs around his neck, legs around his waist. Do you know that the positioning of legs defines a sex style?”
A chuckle escaped me. I was about to say something witty when a man entered the aisle with the saleswoman. He was tall, muscular, and in a perfectly tailored black suit. I couldn’t help but stare as he examined one of the high-end pieces, the red set Carina almost forced on me. He must have felt my gaze on himbecause he looked up, eyes catching mine with an intensity that pinned me to the spot.
Dark gray eyes. The color reminded me of storm clouds before a downpour. Eye colour was my weakness. A sinful thrill worked its way through me. They held an intense look that seemed both distant and dangerously close, demanding respect. My breath caught, a tingle racing down my spine. I turned back to the rack, forcing myself to focus.
With a mischievous gleam, Carina held up the pink and red sets and walked over to him, ignoring my mortified look. “Excuse me, which of these do you think is better?”
Shocked, I stepped closer, intending to drag her away. “Carina, please don’t—”
The man glanced at the options in her hands, a slight smirk tugging at his lips as he turned back to her.
“Depends,” he said in a voice that was all rich velvet, layered with a thick Russian accent.
Carina, unfazed, tilted her head. “On what?”
My face was burning, but his eyes flickered over to me. “Who’s wearing it?”
Carina pointed at me. “My best friend here.”
His gaze locked onto mine with an undeniable glint. “Red.”
Every inch of my skin became warm as I tried to regain my composure. “Thank you,” I mumbled, attempting to grab Carina’s hand to leave. This was a stranger, and I did not need the extra embarrassment.
Completely unfazed, she pulled her hand free, grinning. “See? Told you so.”
The man turned to the saleslady, grabbing the red set I discarded moments ago. “I’ll take this,” he said and left to the cashier, leaving Carina and me standing in stunned silence.
Carina nudged me, her eyes glinting with teasing amusement. “He is hot.”
The fact that he shopped for his woman was hotter. But I didn’t say that to Carina or acknowledge the excitement in her voice. She finally bumped me with her hip, tired of my silence and I forced myself to speak.
“And dangerous,” I whispered.Very dangerous.
Chapter Three
Alessia
They were at it again.
Mamma’s shrill voice sliced through the quiet and echoed in every corner of the house. Even from the farthest rooms, her anger rippled through the house. Papa’s responses were quieter, but the clatter of broken vases told me he was also involved.
I squeezed my eyes shut, the noise pressing down on me.
A bitter chuckle escaped before I could stop it. It was ridiculous at this point. Each time they’d go at it, throwing their words and whatever was within reach until nothing was left to shatter. After the chaos, mamma would start making dinner. We’d all gather around the table and pretend our lives weren’t falling apart. They would act as if the entire performance was normal, and expected me to do the same.
So while they formed this routine, I developed a habit ofsneaking out. I had packed a bag with a few clothes, ready to head to Carina’s. I was lucky enough to have a friend who gave me shelter and a family that liked me. Today was one of those days I was grateful to have her. For a few hours at least, I could pretend I was a part of a stable family.
If it were up to me, I’d disappear from this life. Maybe then my parents would realize I wasn’t a piece of furniture caught in their crossfire. My absence would remind them I existed, that they had a daughter.
Around here, our family was the estate’s whispered tale, the neighbors’ favorite scandal. People pointed at us when they needed a bad example. I could see it in their eyes, how they watched us like we were a TV drama they couldn’t look away from.
Things weren’t always this way. My parents weren’t always so loud and hostile. It started after my sixteenth birthday. I was sitting on the staircase when their first argument broke out. Mamma was furious enough to want to leave with me, but Papa insisted I stay, telling her to go alone if she wanted.
She didn’t.
But their love broke apart, jagged shards ripping into everyone in reach. Though she stayed, I knew the fractures of that rift would only deepen.
Forcing the memory away, I focused on escaping. The window in my bedroom had become my makeshift exit, a little portal out of the house and into the peaceful world. With my bag slung over my shoulder, I climbed through, my heart pounding in my ears as I hit the ground with a light thud. I tiptoed, passing the garden with its overgrown shrubs and wilting flowers—a forgotten paradise, much like our family.