AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Morana swallowed. "Me too."
And then she turned around, without a word to the owner of the penthouse, without a look in his direction, without an expression of the gratefulness she was feeling. She walked towards the elevator, with quick, sure steps, her eyes going to the view outside one last time, memorizing it, etching itself into her memory like the previous night had been etched on her soul.
No one spoke a word behind her. The tension caressed her back as she entered the elevator, her heart pounding, her palms sweating.
Taking a deep breath, she turned to press the button, and found her eyes locking, for one last time, with magnificent blue ones, where he stood in the kitchen, watching her.
Morana pressed the button, their gazes locked.
And the doors closed.
Something was wrong.
The moment she breezed through the mansion doors, the deep, deep sense of foreboding settled into her stomach.
She shouldn't have returned. She should have taken her fixed, amazing car and hightailed it to someplace other than this mansion. But she hadn't. Because Morana Vitalio was many things but she wasn't a coward. And if she was going to die, she was going to die knowing that.
Gritting her teeth, she parked the car in the spot and got out, her eyes roving over the new wheels. How had Tristan Caine gotten it repaired overnight, on a stormy night? Were his connections that good?
Shaking her head, and shoving that baffling man out of her thoughts, Morana took in the beautiful, sunlit lawns, the gorgeous driveway and the stunning mansion.
And felt nothing but more foreboding.
She was going to leave. The moment the codes were found, she promised herself, she was going to run away and disappear, change her identity, make a life for herself, just like she wanted. She was going to go someplace far, far away and make friends without hesitation, meet men and have fun, and live without death dangling every day over her head.
The moment the codes were destroyed, she was leaving everything behind.
Feeling the strength seep into her with that decision, Morana started towards her wing, intending to head straight to her room, the eyes of her father's men following her, when she saw the man in question sitting outside in the gazebo, with two other old, gruff men, discussing business.
He saw her enter and motioned for her to come to him with his fingers, a gesture that irritated her to no extent. Morana would have loved to show him her own finger and stride up to her suite, but he was with other people, and she knew defiance like that, especially after last night, might push him too far.
So, gritting her teeth again in a handful of minutes, Morana walked over to where he sat, the large canopy of leaves overhead providing shade for everyone seated.
Her father looked up at her, his eyes completely neutral, not a flicker in them. "We are dining out tonight at Crimson. Dress accordingly."
Morana nodded and waited for him to say anything more. He raised his eyebrows and dismissed her with another flick of his fingers.
Hands clenched in fists, she turned away and walked up to her suite, locking the door firmly behind her.
Then, she sat down on her bed.
And thought.
This was off. She'd expected him to be angry or even taunting. She'd expected him to be indifferent like he had always been. But this... it almost seemed manipulative. His calm, after she'd spent the night out, was troublesome. It wasn't a good calm. And for some reason, her stomach was in knots, and not of the good kind. Not the knots she liked.
'Your independence is an illusion I've let you sustain.'
Taking a deep breath, Moran
a stood up and headed towards the bathroom, the knots only getting worse with each step.
Crimson.
Her lips were crimson. The blood rushing inside her body was crimson. The blood she wanted to see come out of the other man's nose would be crimson.
Clenching her jaw, Morana sat in the restaurant, on the table in the corner that was always reserved for her father, dressed appropriately in a black sleeveless, backless dress that flared out in a skirt from her waist. The only notable thing about it was the simple split on the side. Four other men sat around the table, excluding her father.
Her father had not spoken a word to her throughout the day, and while it wasn't out of the ordinary, it was out of the ordinary after the stunt she'd pulled. It hadn't been an ordinary day. Usually, she drove her own car to the dinners she attended. Tonight, her father had simply told her to get inside his town car. She'd almost protested when he'd given her a silencing look.
