𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 𝐃𝐄𝐋𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐈𝐀 -
Intricate and witty, her life has twisted upside down after her father's past scarred his family. At the young age of twenty, Violet is informed that eight years ago, she was promised to marry a Mafia Don's son by h...
COME OUT AND PLAY — BILLIE EILISH "i love it when you're awfully quiet."
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Roughly two days ago, Dominic and I had been invited to a private art showing, courtesy of the WMA, at a museum downtown. The information that he gave me about the event was brief, but he told me that the invites were very specific, and none of them were sent to the Russians after the issues they'd caused at the auction.
"Mr. and Mrs. D'Angelo, it's a pleasure." The woman greeted us, her voice carried a hint of formality, and I was surprised she even knew us directly by name. Although, the slip-up with my family name was barely noticeable, it still lingered in the back of my head.
Dominic's lack of reaction surprised me. Usually attentive to such details, he seemed distant, his focus was elsewhere. "The pleasure's ours, thank you," I responded myself with a small, sweet smile before entering the gallery.
The size of the space immediately intimidated me; the high ceilings and fresh hardwood floors echoed with the hushed murmurs of guests, the walls were decorated with all kinds of different pieces, each one different from the other, and the air was filled with the scent of old wood and the faint aroma of wine.
Contrasting from the auction, the atmosphere was much more relaxed, and I felt more confident now that there weren't about a hundred people who looked like they wanted my head on a stick upon my entry. In fact, it seemed as though most of the guests around us were minding their own business.
I glanced up to Dominic, tapping him gently on his forearm to catch his attention. "Did you tell them that my last name was D'Angelo?" I asked as curiosity got the better of me— just as it usually did.
"Oh, fuck. Sorry, I didn't mean to—" Dominic's response was immediate, a hint of concern in his voice as he realized the mistake.
"It's okay, really. I was only wondering," I reassured him, offering a small smile to ease any tension; because in all honesty, I didn't mind it at all.
He ran his hand up by back before his gaze quickly began to sweep across the room, his eyes, a piercing shade of blue, flicked from person to person; paranoid. I felt his hand move from the small of my back to my thigh, the fabric of my dress bunched slightly under his touch as he patted me down; though I noticed a shift in his demeanour.
"Where's your gun?" he asked.
"It's in my purse," I replied, my voice steady despite Dominic's unusually serious tone. My hand instinctively reached for its strap, holding the bag tighter against my body. I could feel the slight weight of the gun pressing against my side, a reassuring reminder of its presence.
