I took one step out of the library and silently closed the door, quietly making my way towards his office. As I opened the door, everything was just as I remembered it—tidy and spacious, with a full glass of whiskey still sitting on his desk. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air, and I closed my eyes, feeling his presence. It made my heartbeat even faster than before. Just as I opened my eyes, the door slammed shut, and I turned around, goosebumps forming on my skin as our eyes met. His eyes were still breathtakingly blue, and his voice echoed loudly, "Who the hell are you?"
I instinctively took a step back as he advanced towards me.
"What are you doing in my office?" he demanded.
My lips parted, but his sudden presence left me speechless. My heart raced wildly, torn between longing to leap into his arms and being frozen in place.
He moved closer, and with each step he took, I retreated until my back was against his desk.
"I..." My voice faltered, but before I could gather my thoughts, his hand was around my throat, cutting off my air.
"Who are you working for?" he pressed, his eyes searching mine for answers.
In a desperate attempt to breathe, I slapped his hand away.
"I... can't... breathe," I whispered.
He paused, his hand still stinging from my slap, mere inches from my face.
"Do you have a death wish?" he hissed.
"And who's going to kill me?" I challenged, our faces inches apart. "You?"
He pulled me closer, his arms wrapping around my hips, sending shivers down my spine as his warmth enveloped me.
"I won't ask again," he murmured, his gaze drifting to my lips.
Playing along, I leaned forward, meeting his gaze defiantly.
"I'm the consigliere of Aurelio De Lauro," I stated firmly, locking eyes with him.
He paused, then stepped back, momentarily distancing himself. Walking behind me to his seat at the desk, he settled into his chair and poured another glass of whiskey.
"Let's spice up this dreadfully dull evening," he suggested, taking a sip of his drink, and motioning for me to sit down with a gesture of his hand.
I complied, maintaining eye contact as his words hung in the air.
"What do you suggest, a game?" I questioned.
"Naked truth? Truth or dare?"
A smile tugged at his lips. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," I replied.
His question was direct. "Why are you really here?"
My heart raced as I confessed, "I came looking for you," keeping my gaze steady.
A grin spread across his face.
"Bold move. Why?"
"It's my turn," I deflected. "Truth or dare?"
He chose, "Truth."
"Who's getting engaged?" I asked.
"I was supposed to be," he revealed, a hint of relief in his tone. "But I just called it off."
I clicked my tongue playfully. "Lucky girl."
He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip of whiskey before releasing a satisfied sigh.
"Truth or dare?"
"Dare," I answered, ready for whatever he had in store.
His grin widened.
"I dare you to come closer."
Rising to the challenge, I walked over and perched on the table before him. He rolled his chair closer, his hands resting on either side of me, holding me in place. His presence was overwhelming yet electrifying, causing goosebumps to form on my skin beneath the black blazer.
"Truth or dare?" I whispered, bringing my face close to his.
He confidently chose, "Dare," as he stood up.
Pushing the boundaries, I dared him, "I dare you to kiss me."
"I don't kiss," he replied flatly.
Liar.
"What's stopping you?" I prodded.
"A woman," he admitted.
Intrigued, I pressed on. "How can a woman wield such power over you?"
He laughed, a mixture of frustration and bemusement evident in his tone.
"Damn if I know," he said, taking a sip of his whiskey, the liquid fire seeming to mirror his inner conflict.
"Let's try naked truth then," I suggested.
He hesitated, then confessed.
"She's deep inside my mind, yet I don't even remember her. She stirred me up yet brought me peace."
"Do you love her?" I asked boldly, curiosity burning within me, wondering if I was the one.
Of course, I was.
"How can I love someone I don't remember?" he countered.
I pointed out the contradiction. "If you refuse to kiss another because of a woman you can't recall, it must be love."
He shot back, half in jest, half in seriousness. "For someone recklessly brave enough to enter my office, you're quite perceptive."
I took a sip of whiskey from another glass, allowing the moment to sink in. "You remind me of someone."
He asked, curiosity piqued, "Someone you used to love?"
"No," I corrected him gently. "Someone I still do."
His words, tinged with resignation, hit me like a blow.
"And yet you're here with another man," he sighed. "You're just like every other woman."
And there it was, proof that he still didn't remember. My heart silently shattered into pieces. My mind struggled to break free from the chains of his love, attempting to escape.
With a heavy heart, I uttered, "and yet, so blind," and walked away towards the door.
"Apollo," I said with finality, leaving him with a lingering goodbye.
Exiting his office, I was immediately met by Ivan and Boris in the hallway next to the library.
Ivan swiftly draped my coat over my shoulders and leaned in to whisper urgently, "we need to leave now. Giovanni is on his way."
I nodded silently, turning back just to see if he would open the door of his office and run after me.
But that only happens in fairytales, not in my reality.
The door remained closed, and I remained broken, tears streaming down my cheeks.
Apollo
I stood frozen for a moment, watching the space she had left, and by the time I decided to follow, she was gone. I shook my head, trying to convince myself that she wasn't just a ghost from my past. Closing the office door, a familiar scent lingered in the air. I closed my eyes and leaned against the doorframe—hazelnut and English oak—it brought back memories. Flashes of her brown hair danced behind her, flashes of her beautiful green eyes, her smile as her fingers tangled with my hair. But her face remained a blur, and this woman I saw now reminded me of her.
"Could it be?" I pondered aloud, the possibility gnawing at me.
Was she Belle, or was my mind playing tricks on me?
She was beautiful, the sound of her voice as she said my name.
It had to be her.
And that scent she carried with her reminded me of how she looked—hazelnut hair and English oak eyes. The most beautiful woman I had ever seen.
Not willing to leave it to chance, I called Marco to my office. I sat down in my chair, my mind still playing tricks on me, unsure if it was the whiskey exacerbating matters, but my heart raced at the thought of her.
As soon as Marco entered, I instructed, "Marco, I have a task for you."
"Yes, boss," he responded.
"I want you to bring De Lauro's consigliere to my apartment on 5th Avenue," I ordered.
"I don't think it's a smart idea. She never leaves his house, day, or night, except to come to the office. It's going to be difficult," he cautioned.
I dismissed his concerns.
"Don't be a coward," I said sharply. "Just bring her to me. Tonight."
"I'll get right on it," he assured before leaving the office.
Closing my eyes, her scent still lingered in the air. Flashbacks of my past flooded in as well. Loud echoes of children's cries followed, along with memories of punches and the smell of blood. I slammed my hand onto the table, pressing my forehead against it, trying to push away the onslaught of memories.
So much I had suppressed over the years, and now all the faces, echoes, and places flooded back at once, haunting me as I grasped for a glimpse of her, hoping she would bring even a small shred of light into my poisonous dance with my demons.
Belle
Boris and Ivan dropped me off in front of Aurelio's mansion. A small smile escaped my lips, despite the tears still lingering in my eyes. Seeing Apollo, even though he didn't remember me, made me feel just a little bit better, grounding me back to reality.
Just as I was about to enter the front door, two burly men bound my hands and feet before tossing me into the back of a black van, the harsh jostling of the vehicle causing fresh bruises to bloom across my skin. I rolled helplessly with each turn of the road, the rough ride mirroring the frantic rhythm of my heart.
As we hit the highway, one of the men approached, swiftly gagging me, and covering my face with a dark bag, plunging me into suffocating darkness.
The journey seemed endless, each bump and jolt echoing the erratic beat of my heart. I tried to steady my breathing as best I could, but fear clenched my chest like a vise, threatening to overwhelm me.
Finally, the van came to a stop, and I heard the creak of the door as they dragged me out into the frigid night air. I didn't dare scream or struggle; I knew it would only make things worse. Yet, terror still gripped me, my breaths quickening with each passing moment.
After climbing two sets of stairs, another door opened and they removed the bag from my face, tossing me inside a bedroom of a luxury apartment overlooking the towering buildings of New York's heart.
As they locked the door behind me, I could hear the murmurs of the men.
"We've delivered her, boss," one of them reported.
Panic set in as my first thought was that Giovanni had finally found me. Historically, I pounded at the door, trying to set myself free, but they just laughed at each pound.
"Not this again," I whispered to myself, slowly walking to the bed, and scanning the room for anything I could use as a weapon in case of an attack.
Another minute passed, and the door started to unlock. My instincts kicked in, and I grabbed a vase, ready to defend myself.
But when Apollo entered, my surprise attack merely resulted in a light thud as the vase harmlessly bounced off him and fell to the floor.
"Ouch," he said, half-amused. "Is that your plan to make me bleed, a plastic vase?"
I stood defiantly, arms crossed. "So, abducting women is your idea of entertainment now?"
He stepped closer, a hint of intrigue in his gaze.
"Only you," he clarified, raising an eyebrow.
"Why am I here?" I asked.
"To finish our game of naked truth," he replied.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"You're kidding, right?"
His expression remained serious.
"Do I look like I'm laughing?"
I shot back, "You've got some serious issues, Apollo."
He leaned in, his presence overpowering.
"There is something in me that wakes up when I want something, a possession," his whisper brushed against my neck, "and then I tend to make it mine."
I felt a chill as his breath touched my skin.
"Naked truth?" I challenged, trying to maintain composure. "Is that what you want?"
"Tell me," He urged, his lips dangerously close to my neck, pushing a strand of hair aside to expose my skin.
"Who are you?"
I met his intensity with my own truth.
"I'm just a girl trying to survive."
His hungry eyes became more predatory as he circled me.
"Do tell," he prompted, a hint of intrigue in his voice.
Suddenly, he was behind me, his presence enveloping me.
"Who are you?" he repeated, his breath warm against my neck.
"I am just a girl who wanted to feel loved," I confessed, vulnerability creeping into my voice.
He pondered aloud, "Isn't love like a drug? More sought after than necessary?"
I remained silent, closing my eyes as my heart thrummed in my chest.
"If you had the choice between forgetting someone and remembering, which would you choose?" he said, his lips so close to my skin I felt his touch as he spoke.
"It's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember," I admitted softly.
Unexpectedly, he spun me around to face him, capturing his lips against mine. The taste of whiskey from earlier lingered on his tongue as it danced with mine.
My body trembled, pulling away slightly as I teased, "I thought you didn't kiss."
He smiled against my lips.
"I fucking missed you, Bellissima."
Our eyes locked, and I jumped into his arms.
"Do you remember?" I asked, searching for recognition.
"I was a fool to forget," he admitted with a smile.
Carefully, he laid me on the bed, his fingers tracing a path from my lips down to my chest.
"Belle, I'm sorry for whatever you went through when I was away."
Tears welled in my eyes. "And I'm sorry I turned away from you the night you were shot."
All the emotions swirled around me, tears falling down my cheeks like waterfalls of tears and happiness, as if my world was lost and yet found in his deep blue eyes.
His forehead rested gently against mine, eyes closed, as he confessed, "When I saw you leave, I feared the Beast inside me had won, that I had lost you forever."
As I placed my palm against his cheek, my eyes brimmed with tears.
"I was foolish to run from you," I admitted. "But then, love makes us do foolish things."
"So, you're admitting you've fallen in love?" He teased, his lips curling into a satisfied grin.
"How could I not?" I replied, a soft smile on my lips. "You're quite the charmer, kidnapping me twice now."
His laughter filled the room, warm and genuine.
"The first time you came willingly. And Belle, I've fallen for you too."
Impatient for his touch, I urged, "Ah, kiss me already."
He wrapped his arms around me, lifting me and locking my hips with his, my fingers tangling in his perfect dark hair as I lowered my face for him to kiss me. As he pressed his lips to mine, I melted like snow in the first ray of sunshine.