AllFreeNovel
Share Us
An entry from Libby’s journals, written ten years after Arturo’s death.
We’ve done it.
Finally.
It’s not all the family deserves, but we’ve gotten at least some part of our own retribution for what happened to my love, for what that man put his own wife through.
I know my time is coming soon, and I’ll be back with him again.
I know that the future is murky, that Delilah isn’t old enough to know everything, that the world still isn’t safe for her.
But I can rest easy knowing we did this small part.
And that my friend was able to get everything she deserves.
-Libby
SEVENTEEN
-Lilah-
The dress is black—tight and low up top before flaring to a sweet, knee-skimming circle skirt.
Black because this is not a celebratory experience for me.
The shoes are deep emerald green. The soles are red.
The whole ensemble was bought on Dante’s card, of course.
The nails, just like my lips, are red, and sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever go back to any other color.
Not anytime soon—I like the subtle reminder that I’m a siren.
That I’m here to destroy anyone who isn’t worthy of serving under my rule.
When Marco knocks on my door, I open the third drawer of my vanity, grab the small gun that is there, putting the safety on and slipping it into the tiny garter holster I had Marco buy for me.
I’m done letting everyone else protect me, done being a helpless victim.
* * *
An hour later, I just finished having an absolutely mind-numbing conversation with a man who, to be quite honest, had bigger balls than anyone I’ve ever met.
I mean, to incessantly stare at the tits of a woman who you know is the sole heir to one powerful family and the fiancée to another . . . you have to have some balls.
But I smiled through it, playing the game I was trained to excel at.
“You don’t have to smile at everyone, fiorella,” I hear behind me. I don’t even look at him, crossing my arms on my chest.
“Don’t you have a date, Dante? Or should I call you zio?” He’s silent, and when I finally break and give in, he’s looking around.
Checking for ears.
“My bride will not be calling me fucking zio,” he says under his breath. I roll my eyes and his lips tip.
I should have known something filthy is coming. “You wanna call me Daddy, though . . .”
“Dante Romano Carluccio!” I whisper under a hushed breath.
