Beautifully Brutal ( Cavalieri Della 1)

Sighing, I rise and pad over to the closet. When I pull it open, I find a black dress on a hanger right at the entrance. The soft, delicate satin is luxurious, and the style of the dress is exquisite.

A knock on the bedroom door startles me. “I’m coming,” I call out, quickly finding a pair of sweatpants to pull on over my panties and a tank top which seems to fit perfectly.

When I get to the door, I open it to find Jezebel with a tray laden with a plate of hot, steaming eggs, bacon, toast, and a cup of coffee.

“I figured you’d need something to tide you over till dinner,” she explains with a smile. Entering the space, she sets the tray on the vanity and turns to face me. “My brother is making arrangements for you both to spend the evening here. I’m heading out.” Her smile is contagious, and the excitement in her shimmering brown eyes makes me grin.

“Oh?” My brow arches in question, seeing the blush on her cheeks darken when I probe. “And you’re looking forward to seeing someone?”

“I am,” she confirms with a nod. “He’s not someone my brother would want for me, but he’s just so handsome.” The way she speaks of this man makes my heart ache for what I once had. “My brother likes you, you know,” she whispers as she leans in.

“What?”

She confirms with another nod, “He does. I’ve never seen him so nervous for dinner before. He’s only changed his mind about his suit three times and still hasn’t decided on a tie.”

“I’m . . . I’m not sure what to say,” I reply to her shyly as she gives me the once-over.

“I have an idea,” she pronounces, then turns and heads for the closet, her long black skirt swishing with every step. She’s beautiful, the opposite of me. Her long, dark hair hangs in waves down her back, and curves for days. The kind of curves men love. Her eyes are dark, almond-shaped, and her lips are full and pouty. Her tanned skin gives off a stunning glow, and I wonder if Lance had to ever choose between a woman like this and me, who would he want?

She’s older than me, much older. And as that thought hits, it reminds me that on Saturday I turn twenty-one. I’m aware with the realization that nobody knows me here, I can be anyone I want. Perhaps I can enjoy this dinner for what it could be, a birthday celebration, and I take a breath, focusing on the fact that I’m free.

When Jezebel returns, she’s carrying a hanger. Not the one I was requested to wear, a different one. Her smile lights up her face, and the excitement clear on her features. I wanted to go shopping this afternoon before dinner. Even though I have a dress, I need new underwear.

“This is what you’re wearing this evening,” she declares with a smile, setting the clothing bag on the bed. “And don’t worry about what he asked you to wear. This is the one. We’ll head out to grab you something pretty for underneath. Eat, and then we’ll leave.” With a wink, she smiles and makes her way for the door.

“Why are you doing this?” I question suddenly.

Jezebel stops at the door, her hand on the knob, and her knuckles turn white when she grips it so tight I wonder if she’d be able to rip it off. “Because I want to see my brother happy. And I think with you around, he’ll change his mind about . . .” Her words filter into the room, hanging heavily in the air. “Never mind. See you soon.”

I’m alone once more, still unsure of their motives. My father raised me to be aware of my surroundings. He also taught me to keep friends close and enemies closer. Even though I’m not sure which category both Sergio and Jezebel fall under right at this moment, I decide to take it at face value, and if anything seems off at all, I can run. I know where I am. I can easily make it into town, so I settle at the vanity and eat.

Lance

This game will come to an end, and the moment it does, I’ll ensure that the man who trained me pays for his sins. Arthur is playing with fire. He’s known me my whole life, but he hasn’t truly seen the monster that lurks beneath the surface.

“What do you mean she’s gone?” I bite out in frustration at the old man standing before me. I want to pin him against the wall and squeeze the life from him, to force him to tell me where the fuck Giuliana is.

“Sh-sh-she’s e-escaped,” he chokes out, and I step away as if I’ve been scalded with boiling water. Burnt because the girl I love is once more out of my reach.

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” I hiss. Leaning in, I allow my breath to fan over his wrinkled face. “If you don’t tell me where she is, I’ll burn this motherfucking church to the ground.” My voice booms through the vast space, causing him to shiver. I don’t give a shit if he’s a priest or God himself, I’ll kill anyone who keeps her away from me.

“P-p-please, I-I d-don’t—”

Pivoting, I slam my fist into the stained-glass window, which was allowing sunlight to stream through, creating beautiful patterns. All that’s left are shards of painted glass lying on the floor.

“If I find out you had anything to do with this,” I bite out, not wanting to look at the bastard again, “I’ll find you, and you do not want me to do that.”

Stalking from the church, leaving destruction in my wake, I swing my leg over my bike and start the engine. Peeling out of the yard, I head toward the main road, which will take me back to the city. Night is nearing, and I need to get back to the hotel to figure out just where my mark will be next.

Sergio will suffer. Not only for his underhanded dealings but because I’m ready to kill. I’ve lost my girl again, and I’m done acting like I’m okay with not having her in my life. Arthur may have won this round, but he won’t win the next.

* * *

Stalking through the hotel lobby, I make my way directly for the elevators, but I’m stopped in my tracks by the brunette sitting in the reception area. She’s perched on one of the chairs, and her body is encased in a stunning, bright red dress that hugs every curve of her. Even with her sitting, I can see just how her figure is purely hourglass shaped.

I know who she is. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have been doing my job correctly. She looks just like her brother. There’s no mistaking the Ramos family genes. Her skin is golden as if she’d just walked off a beach. The sun-kissed look does everything to grab my attention, and she knows it because when she glances my way, she thinks she’s hooked me.

The last time I saw Jezebel Ramos was when she was nineteen, merely running after her brother like a lost puppy, wanting his approval. The thing about it is, Sergio was far too deep in the Cartel by then, and I have a feeling the sweet little girl is gone. And in her place is a woman who’ll slide her blade across my neck without a second thought.