**~ANASTASIA~**
I slip out of the suite, my heart pounding in my chest. The dull thud of the music vibrates through the walls, a steady beat that mirrors the anxiety bubbling up inside me. Every instinct tells me to return to the suite, to wait for Romero like he asked. But another part of me, the stubborn part that I tend to listen to more, urges me to explore.
The corridor outside the suite is dimly lit, casting eerie shadows along the walls. My footsteps are soft, cautious, as I make my way down the hall. I glance over my shoulder, half-expecting someone to stop me, but the corridor remains empty. I take a deep breath, steeling myself as I continue forward.
I turn a corner and spot a narrow staircase at the end of the hall. The door leading to it is slightly ajar, and a flicker of curiosity pushes me to investigate. Where could it lead? Maybe there's a back exit, or a place where I can get a moment of peace. I could use the fresh air.
My hand hesitates on the doorknob, but I push it open anyway. The stairs are steep and poorly lit, but I force myself to climb them. With each step, the noise from the club fades, replaced by a growing sense of anticipation. I reach the top and find another door, this one heavy and cold to the touch. I push it open, and a rush of cool night air hits me.
The rooftop is vast and open, the cityscape of Rome sprawling out in every direction. I take a moment to admire the view, the city lights twinkling like stars below. It's almost peaceful up here, a stark contrast to the chaos of the club below. But as I step further out onto the rooftop, my gaze is drawn to something that shatters the calm.
A man is kneeling on the ground, his hands bound behind his back. His face is covered in blood and contorted in pain, his body trembling as he struggles against his restraints. It seems as if he had been beaten hard before he was tied or beaten hard while he was tied. Standing over him is another man on a black suit, but I can't see his face very clearly. A gun is in his hand, the barrel aimed directly at the man's head. Two other men are standing behind the man, each of them clutching to their guns as well.
My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, rooted to the spot. My mind races, trying to make sense of what I'm seeing. I move closer softly to take a clearer look at the man's face, the one holding the gun. This isn't real. It can't be. But the look on the man's face, the absolute lack of emotion in his eyes, tells me otherwise. He's deadly serious.
The man on the ground whimpers, a broken sound that sends a shiver down my spine. The man holding the gun doesn't waver. His grip on the gun is steady, his posture relaxed, as if this is just another day for him. And maybe it is.
I should turn back, slip away before anyone notices I'm here. But my legs refuse to move. I'm trapped in place, watching the scene unfold as if I'm part of it.
The man's voice cuts through the silence, low and controlled. "I am sure you didn't know I'm in Rome, Leonardo."
The man tries to speak, his words slurred and desperate. "Please... Please Matteo, have... have mercy on me. I... I will do anything just please, please don't kill me. I was only misled by greed. I... I know better now."
The gunman, Matteo, laughs—a sound that sends a shiver down my spine. I'm sure the man on the ground feels the same, as his face drains of any remaining emotion.
Matteo starts to say, "You ran from Florence and came to Rome, to hide from me? How ridiculous. Of all places, you had to hide in Dante's territory?"
Wait... Did he just say Dante? Why in the world would I run away from his house to come here and still hear his name? Since he mentioned Dante's territory, that can only mean he's in the mafia and he knows Dante. I need to leave here before before he sees me.
The man trembles hard, "I will do anything, please just give me a chance and I will..." Matteo doesn't wait for him to finish. He pulls the trigger, and the sound of the gunshot echoes across the rooftop, shattering the night's stillness.
The man slumps forward, lifeless, and the world seems to go silent around me. My breath hitches, and I have to clamp a hand over my mouth to stifle a gasp.
He steps back, his face a mask of indifference as he holsters the gun. He glances around the rooftop, and I duck behind a nearby vent, my heart hammering in my chest. Did he see me? I hold my breath, praying that he didn't.
I can hear his footsteps, slow and deliberate, as he walks across the rooftop. My mind is racing, trying to figure out what to do. I can't let him find me up here. God knows what he'd do if he realized I'd seen what just happened. Shit, I should have just listened to Romero and stayed out.
The footsteps grow louder, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing myself to become invisible. But then, they stop. I open my eyes, holding my breath, and slowly peek around the corner of the vent.
The man is standing at the edge of the rooftop, his back to me. He's looking out over the city, his posture relaxed as if he hasn't just killed a man in cold blood. I don't understand anything of this world despite being born in it. How can someone be so calm, so unaffected by something so horrific?
I know I need to get out of here. I can't stay on this rooftop after something like this. Slowly, carefully, I begin to back away, inching towards the door that leads back down to the club. But as I move, my foot catches on a loose piece of metal, sending it clattering across the rooftop.
He spins around, his eyes locking onto mine. His men aims their guns at me immediately. My heart stops, and I don't move. His gaze is sharp, assessing, as if he's trying to decide what to do with me.
Panic surges through me, and I turn on my heel, aiming for the door. But before I can reach it, a hand grabs my arm, yanking me back. I'm spun around, and I find myself face-to-face with him, his grip on my arm firm, unyielding.
"Running away?" His voice is smooth, almost amused, but there's an edge to it that makes my blood run cold. Shit, I'm done for.
I stare up at the man, my heart pounding so hard I'm afraid he might hear it. Now that I can see him clearly, I realize he's actually... very good-looking. His long brown hair cascades over his face and shoulders.
I expected him to look as terrifying as the things he's done, but he doesn't. Why do these dangerous men always seem to appear the opposite of who they truly are? His grip on my arm is iron-tight, unyielding, and the cold, amused look in his eyes sends a chill down my spine.
"I-I didn't see anything," I stammer, my voice trembling. "I swear, I didn't see anything."
Matteo's lips curve into a smile, but there's no warmth in it. It's a predator's smile, the kind that sends chills down your spine. He leans in closer, so close that I can feel his breath on my face, the scent of expensive cologne mixed with something darker.
"Oh, but you did," he says softly, his tone almost teasing. He pulls his gun from its holster, the metal gleaming in the dim light of the rooftop. He holds it up, close to my face, and my breath catches in my throat. "And you know, there are some things in this world that aren't meant to be seen, especially by pretty little things like you."
I try to pull away, but his grip tightens, and I'm forced to stay still. He tilts the gun slightly, the barrel brushing against my cheek, and I flinch, squeezing my eyes shut. My mind is racing, trying to figure out a way out of this, but all I can think about is the cold metal against my skin, the terrifying reality that this man could end my life in an instant.
Matteo chuckles, the sound low and sinister. "What's the matter? Scared? You should be. You're in over your head, sweetheart." His voice is soft, almost kind, but the way he's looking at me is anything but it.
"I-I didn't mean to... I just wanted some air," I plead, my voice barely above a whisper. "I won't tell anyone, I swear. Just please... let me go."
He leans back slightly, studying my face with a look of curiosity, as if he's deciding whether to believe me. Then, he shakes his head, his smile widening.
"Oh, I believe you," he says, his tone almost playful. "But that doesn't change anything. You see, once you've seen something like this... well, I can't just let you walk away, can I? That would be bad for business."
My stomach drops, and I feel like I might be sick. He's toying with me, enjoying the fear in my eyes, the way I'm trembling under his gaze.
He steps back, finally releasing his grip on my arm, and for a brief moment, I think he might actually let me go. But then he turns to his men, his expression hardening.
"Take her with us," he orders, his voice cold and commanding. "I think she needs to learn a little lesson about what happens when you wander where you don't belong."
The two men who had been standing behind him step forward, their faces devoid of any emotion. One of them grabs my arm, much rougher than Matteo, and drags me towards the door. I try to resist, to pull away, but it's useless. They're too strong, and I'm too terrified to fight back.
"Please, don't do this!" I cry out, my voice cracking with panic. But my pleas fall on deaf ears as they haul me across the rooftop, back towards the stairwell.
Matteo follows behind us, his gun still in hand, a satisfied smirk on his face. I can feel his gaze on me, cold and calculating, as if he's already decided my fate.
They drag me down the stairs, and I stumble, barely able to keep up. My mind is a blur of fear and confusion. What are they going to do to me? Where are they taking me? All I know is that whatever it is, it won't be good.
The stairs seem to go on forever, and by the time we reach the bottom, my legs feel like jelly. I'm barely aware of where they're taking me, the panic clouding my thoughts, but I can tell we're heading deeper into the building, away from the noise of the club. No, no no. I can't let them take me away like this. I can't die like this. I would rather put up with Dante's disrespect than die in the hands of dangerous man that I know nothing about.
And then, I bit down hard on one of the men's hand. He groans in pain and yanks me hard by my hair.
"Argh!" I scream in pain, tears gathering in my eyes.
Matteo stops walking and so does the men. He turns to me. "What is your name, red?"
I frown at him despite still trembling in fear. "Would you let me go if I tell you?"
He scoffs, "Answer me when I'm asking nicely, red. What is your name, your full name?"
I gulp hard, "It's... It's Anastasia Vishnev..." I shake my head quickly recalling that I'm now married to an Italian asshole. "No, no, Anastasia Saviano."
It's his turn to frown now. "Which is it? Vishnev or Saviano? Besides, Vishnev doesn't sound Italian. Are you not from here?"
I bit my lips, "It's Saviano, not Vishnev anymore. I married." I say with a frown.
He stares at me as if trying to study me. Moving closer, he asks, "What's your husband's name?"
I stare back, wondering if he'll let me go once he knows Dante is my husband. Dante is a don—no one would dare cross him, right? Just as I'm about to speak, a familiar voice interrupts us.
"Hands off, Russo." The voice, unmistakably from the man I ran from, cuts through the air with a sharp edge of anger.
I turn to see Dante, rage etched on his face, aiming a gun at Matteo. Romero and Alessio stand beside him, their guns also drawn. The men holding me tighten their grips, and I notice their hands hovering near their weapons, though they don't draw them. Matteo, however, regards Dante with a look of amusement, showing no sign of fear.
He moves away from me and grins. "Dante Saviano..." And then he turns to me. "Anastasia Saviano." He smirks. "I see now." He turns back to Dante. "I mean no harm, Saviano. I didn't know she's yours."
Dante's eyes flicker to mine and I shiver at the the hard glare he's throwing at me. "Come here Anastasia."
The men's grip around me loosens but I don't move. I mean, I ran away escape this man, why is here now trying to claim a mark on me? I'm not his!
"Now, Anastasia." I hear him growl again and this time, I know that's an order. I gulp hard and sighs before walking over to him. Romero frowns at me and sighs.
"You don't listen, do you?" Romero whispers into my ears.
I bit my lips but don't say anything. He's right, I should have just sat down where he asked me to. Who knows what kind of a man Matteo is.
Dante sighs and dips his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing here, Matteo?" His voice has suddenly changed to a calm one. Is he bipolar or what? And how do they know each other?
"I had business to take care of." He grins.
Dante nods, "I see."
I stare between this two men and I can tell they don't really like each other but at the same time, they're not behaving like enemies.
"I hear Luca has been around. I guess we will all meet at the meeting." Matteo says, now walking over to us.
Luca? Wait, are they referring to the same Luca I know? Wait... Could Matteo be the third mafia don Alessio told me about? The one lording over Florence city? Oh crap. How did I allow myself to have an encounter with three dangerous mafia dons who barely tolerate each other?
Dante doesn't say anything and simply turns to Alessio. "Take her to the car, Alessio."
Alessio nods and reaches for me but I move away from him. Dante glares at me.
"I'm going nowhere with you!" I yell at him.
I hear Matteo scoff, "Oh? Having marital issues with your wife, Dante?"
Dante doesn't reply him but instead reaches for me and grabs my wrist pulling me to his chest. "You will do as I say, Anastasia or you will not like the outcome." He threatens me.
"And what would you do? There's no way I'm going back to that house with you. I will not be treated with disrespect!"
Dante's grip tightens around my wrist and in pain. "Don't make this difficult than it already is. You will only end up regretting it."
I glare at him, "I said no."
He grits his teeth and I can tell he's barely holding himself from exploding in anger.
"Go with Alessio to the car, Anastasia." I hear Romero say to me in a calm voice.
I turn to Romero and frown. I thought he was even helpful. Of course, he'll side his brother.
"You really want to remain here?" Dante's voice pulls back my attention to him. I take a look around our environment and a cold chill runs through me. Of course not.
I shake my head, "No I don't want to but I'm not going back with you either."
Dante sighs and nod, "I see..." He turns to Matteo. "We'll meet at the meeting, Russo."
"Sure thing, Saviano. Do take care of your marital issues." Matteo replies with sarcasm.
Dante frowns and before I know what's happening, he lifts me off the ground an throws me on his shoulder. My eyes grow wide in shock and I struggle against his hold.
"Let me go!" I struggle to get away from his grip but it doesn't make any difference as he strides away from the club effortlessly. Alessio walks behind us while Romero remains standing, watching us leave.
XOXO