Elena.
I took another look at the sexy, white cocktail dress lying on the bed, and I immediately began stripping. The thin spaghetti straps did almost nothing to hold up my breasts, but it fit perfectly, molding to my body, and it made my skin look darker than it actually was. Camila sure had awesome taste, and it was probably a good thing that she’d gotten me the dress, after all. I had not even cared about the party to bother with what to wear tonight.
Dashing into the bathroom, I rinsed my calves and feet of the sand I’d picked up on my walk with Diego, and I quickly brushed out my long, red hair and applied a little lip gloss. I scurried back into the bedroom, grabbed the tan strappy heels she’d left by the dress, and ran back into the hallway and down the stairs.
“You look absolutely ravishing, girl.” Camila had said as she gave me a once over.
I take in her own appearance too, she was in a yellow dress that just beautifully compliments her skin so well. The dress covered her shoulders entirely and flows down into a fancy sweetheart neckline, thus leaving a big part of her cleavage out.
It was also a snug fit which gave the dress a classy and polished look. Her arms was covered to just above her elbows. The sleeves start out loose and tighten towards the bottom where they form a perfect match with the color of her skin. The dress' waist was wide, but it was a comfortable fit. A bow had been wrapped around her and rests gently on her belly.
Below the waist, the dress fitted snug around her and had a straight style. The dress reached to just below her knees and was longer at the sides and back of the dress. She was wearing t-straps, they were simple, but radiate grace and refinement. To top it all off, she was wearing a bow in her hair and one simple, but elegant bracelet.
“You look ravishing and elegant too, girl.” I complimented right back and she blushed.
Without saying more words, she handed to me a silver mask that looked absolutely classy yet does the job of hiding my eyes and part of my nose like it is supposed to and she held in her other hand a golden one of the same exact design.
“Let’s go have some fun!” She whistled as we get into her small car and zoom off.
Heat flowed through my chest, and I didn’t know if it was fear or excitement, but I was ready. Ready to leave it all behind. At least for a little while, to have fun at a party for the first time in my life.
Soon, we both get to the venue of the party and we walked right in it after showing some proof of invite, we also bypassed the kitchens— one that looked like it was for everyday use and another adjacent to it that looked like it was for caterers—as we headed for the solarium at the side of the large house. Opening the double doors, we stepped into the massive, ceramic-tiled garden room, the walls and ceiling made entirely of glass, and instantly felt the rise in temperature.
The thick, wet heat soaked through the fabric of my dress, making it melt to my body. Trees rose above and all around me in the quiet, dark room, lit only by the moonlight pouring in through the windows overhead. I inhaled the sweet smell of the palms, orchids, lilies, violets, and hibiscus, reminding me of my mother’s closet and all the perfumes from her coats and scarves blending together in one space when I was younger.
The scent of the food lingered in the air accompanied by the soft music of the string quartet, and Camila said she wondered if she should find the party host and let her know that she had arrived. But instead, she tightened her fingers around her glass.
My pulse quickened as I tried to resist the urge to do what I really wanted to do. What I knew that I wanted to do, especially in a gathering such as this. To look for him. But no, he wouldn’t be here. He probably wouldn’t be here. He might be here. My heart started thumping, and my neck heated. And, against my own will, my eyes started to drift. Around the party and over the faces, searching… Salvatore. I hadn’t seen him in months, He might be here. I really hope that he was not.
I do not think that I would be able to handle it. At all. Whether or not he could recognize me in this makeup and mask, what if he does? Have I not made a huge mistake by daring to come to a gathering like this?
But then, my eyes caught onto another man I had not expected to find in this gathering, heck, when Camila mentioned a party, I never even though that it was a high profile one like this.
Mr. Deangelo walked out of the crowd, his blond hair freshly cut close to the scalp, his dark blue eyes looking impatient, a mask in his hand and his stride determined. “Elena? I am so very surprised that Camila succeeded in dragging you out of your comfort zone.” He said extra-warmly, which caught me off guard since he was cold to me most of the time within the four walls of his home.
I hesitated, feeling my stomach tighten. But then I forced a smile as he stepped up to me in the doorway of the solarium.
He looked like Diego, with his sandy-blond hair, narrow jaw, and that smile that could make almost anyone putty in his hands. He also dressed like himself, looking polished in his midnight-blue suit, white shirt, and silver tie. So clean. So perfect. Mr. Deangelo did everything within the lines.
“Be of good behaviour, Elena. I don’t want to be a party pooper so I will just leave you alone to enjoy yourself, I am here on a mission after all.” He said as he proceeded to leave, only to stop again abruptly, “oh and I would be quite careful too, this place has some predators.” He ran his fingers through his hair, glaring at me as he straightened his tie and walked around me out the doorway.
I stared out the windows after him, tension building in my chest. What the hell did that mean? I backed away from the door, unable to go back outside. I didn’t want to disappoint Camila by sneaking out a party she’d invited me to, one that I had finally agreed to go to after refusing numerous ones but I no longer wanted to spend my last hours here.
I wanted to be within the comfort of the Ferrari’s home, reading a bedtime story to Diego. Anything but here, everything just felt wrong, the hairs on my skin stood too much at attention and I can not help but feel like something bad was about to happen. Camila had told me that she wanted to go say hy to the host thus leaving me standing alone awkwardly.
I twisted around, ready to leave, but then I looked up and instantly stopped. My stomach flipped, and I couldn’t breathe. Shit. A very familiar man sat in one of the cushioned chairs all the way at the back of the solarium, his eyes locked on mine, looking eerily calm.
Salvatore? The one man that I had been running away from. The one that had created hell for me.
My throat thickened, and I wanted to swallow, but I couldn’t move. I just stared, paralyzed. Had he been there since I first walked in? The whole time?
He leaned back in his heavy armchair, nearly shrouded by the darkness and the shadows of the trees overhead. One hand rested on a small case that sat on top of his thigh, and the other hand lay on the armrest, the neck of a wine bottle hanging from his fingers.
My heart started to pound so hard it hurt. What was he doing? Does he recognize me in this heavy makeup and mask?
He raised the bottle to his lips, still watching me, and I dropped my eyes for a split-second, fear coursing through me. He’d even seen the whole episode with Mr. Deangelo?
Dammit. I looked up again, seeing his light brown hair that was styled to look like he should be on the cover of a magazine, and his hazel eyes, that always looked like cider with flecks of spice. They seemed darker than they actually were, hidden in the shadows, but they pierced me under straight brows that slanted inward, making him look just as formidable as he was. His full lips held no hint of a smile, and his tall frame nearly consumed his chair.
He wore black pants with a black suit jacket, and his white shirt was open at the collar. No tie, because, as usual, he did what he wanted. And that’s all anyone could ever go on with Salvatore. How he appeared. How he looked. I didn’t think my father even ever knows what was happening behind those eyes.
I watched him rise out of his chair and drop the small case into the seat, keeping his eyes on me as he walked over. The closer he got, the taller his six feet four inches looked. Salvatore was lean but muscular, and he made me feel small. In many ways. He looked like he was walking straight for me, and my heart hammered in my chest as I narrowed my eyes, bracing myself.
But he didn’t stop. The faint hint of his body wash hit me as he passed by, and I turned my head, my chest aching as he walked out the solarium doors to a lady without a word. I folded my lips between my teeth, fighting the burn in my eyes
It all reminded me of the one night when he had noticed me. One night, years ago, Salvatore saw something in me and liked it. And he had made life a living hell for me since then. My knees went weak as I thought of the fact that I might have been found by this man again and all because of my own carelessness.
“He did not recognize me. He did not recognize me. He did not recognize me.” I chanted as I shot off, heading back into the house, through the foyer, and out the front door, tension and fear chewing at every nerve in my body as I headed to nowhere with tears blurring my eyes while I kept tripping over the heels on my feet.
He found me. He found me.