2
LILIANA
My eyes widen as he draws a gun from his waistline inside his jacket, aiming it at my father just behind me. Making good on his threat he has just pronounced.
My body freezes, terrified of being in the middle of this crossfire, at being caught between my father and this man. My mind races as I stand there unable to move. The chances of him missing me and only hitting my father with a bullet are very slim. I don’t realize my body is trembling until I feel my father grab a hold of my wrist, not out of fear or comfort but in order to pull me in front of him to block his body should he need to.
Oh my gosh...my father is going to use me as a shield. I am going to die because of him, just like my mother had! My mind screams out in silence. Soon my breath is the only thing I hear as it comes in and out in ragged draws, as everything within my vision blurs until I can only see and focus on the tip of the barrel pointed directly at me and my father. I feel a bead of sweat roll down my spine as my panic rises.
Hearing my father shift behind me, he moves closer to me slightly. "I am so sorry for the delay Nicoli, my daughter was spending time in the gardens and clearly lost track of time. I assure you I would not play any games with you. Now why don’t you put down the gun and come see her and what she can offer for yourself." The man's eyes narrow at my father before slicing his piercing gaze onto me. He looks momentarily startled as he straightens, drawing his brows at me. He seems as confused as I am by his sudden shift of behavior. Shaking his head in a quick jerk as if trying to force away his thoughts, he hardens his gaze once again. We all stand silently, waiting for something to happen.
After a moment he lowers his gun slightly, no longer aiming it at me, though not putting it away either. I release a deep breath, not realizing I had been holding it since he drew the gun. Seeing the fraction of a waiver in the man's disposition, I feel my father's hands on my back as he gives me a hard shove in Nicoli's direction. I stumble over my feet before regaining my balance, quickly looking back up. Still shaking slightly from the adrenaline pumping through my small frame, he makes his way to me. He closes the distance between us in only a few strides as he stops a foot away, looking down upon me. Not daring to look up at his face I focus my gaze onto the ground at his feet. I can feel his eyes grazing over me as he inspects me like a piece of cattle at an auction.
My forehead scrunches up as I wonder who the hell this man is and what my father had done to him. My curiosity gives me a little strength as I finally lift my head to get a look at his face. Looking up, I draw in a sharp breath. I am drawn to his icy grey eyes. They are harsh and cruel but I can see pain hidden within them, making me wonder who this man is even more. Looking over his face I can see the predatory expression he holds as he looks over me. Images of little red riding hood and her wolf flood my mind as I watch him.
Meeting my gaze, his holds mine captive as I am startled by the swirling emotions inside of me. Neither of us let up as we continue to stare at each other. Both seemingly confused by this reaction we have before he regains his composure and his eyes become shielded once again. They roam over me as he returns to inspecting me, and I mean every inch of me, from my long red hair to my bare thighs, down to my painted nails in flip flops. I shift uncomfortably under his unrelenting scrutiny.
While his eyes are looking me over I take a quick moment to inspect him back. I look down from his face to see his perfectly held posture. He holds himself with an authority and power that makes my knees tremble under my weight. There is something about this man, some effect he has on me that I can’t begin to understand. I finally take notice of his attire, as he is wearing a suit. A very nice suit. Only instead of the classic black and white look, his is all black. Everything about this man emits a predator like essence, his body oozes power and promises of violence. Nicoli? Why does that sound familiar?
I'm startled as realization suddenly hits me, slamming me with fear once again. I have heard of this man. I have heard rumors of him among my father's men, though I have never seen him before nor would I have been able to recognize his face. He is referred to as Diavolo as he is as merciless as the devil to anyone who dares to cross him. To suffer an eternity in hell would be better than being punished by this man for your transgressions against him. He is always known to wear an all black suit, both to instill fear in his enemies and not stain all his clothes with the blood of those that he kills.
At least that is what the rumors about
