Breaking Midnight (Il Paradosso Series Book One)

Chapter twelve

A single tear trickled down my cheek as I stared at my reflection in the rectangular mirror before me.

This was going to be the last time that I recognized myself for who I really was. Soon, I would be stepping into a whole new identity that I would have to stare at with pity. I brushed my straightened hair once more. It had grown down to my waist.

The short sparkly black dress was hugging my features, but barely covering them, with a plunged neckline that was exposing most of my cleavage, and the bottom of it, just long enough to cover my thighs.

The thick black eyeliner offered a slightly darker look that differed from my usual appearance, and the only shade of bright red lipstick I had found in the drawer, added to the density.

A knock on the door made me jump, pulling me away from my brooding thoughts. Cecilia entered the room, handing me a black-laced headband. I took it, giving her a muddled look.

She read my confusion and put her hand over her eyes. "Per I tuoi occhi."

I was still uncertain when she left, running the lace through my fingers. I placed it over my head, lowering it to my eyes and examined it in the mirror. Surprisingly, I could still see perfectly well through the material, and it added a mysterious semblance to my entire appearance.

I opened the door, stepping out to a spacious hallway. The walls were aligned with paintings that were hung in between each of the bedroom doors. The music coming from beneath the floor was loud, as per usual, almost matching the elevated pounding of my heartbeat. I slowed down my pace as I reached the double staircase, placing both of my hands on the gold railing.
My eyes shot to the iron doors at the end of the stairs.

Christ, Adriana. Don't even think about it. You wouldn't make it past the doorstep, without getting tackled by the bodyguards.

But what if they didn't recognize me? My heart began to pound even harder, remembering the mask over my eyes. I tightened my hands around the railing, moving my head from left to right when a woman with long black silky hair appeared at the end of the stairway, speaking to another woman in Italian.

I could have recognized that voice from anywhere. My hand gripped the railing even tighter. It was the lupa from the apartment back in New York. I was breathing heavily now as I watched her let out a screeching laughter, while she squeezed the other woman's arm.

She turned around and began making her way up the flight of stairs. Halfway up, she raised her head.

I turned my body so that I was directly facing her and stood tall. I was ready for a fight and this was one I was going to enjoy. I had to be extremely cautious; chances were high that this woman had a gun on her. That was my only concern.
She reached midway, moving slowly with each step while never breaking eye-contact.

Yes, bitch. Notice me.

"Che ci fai quassu?"

Assuming I was one of the whores from below, she spoke to me in Italian, repeating the same question again, this time, with a stronger tone.

I watched her get angrier by the minute. It was somewhat satisfying. I took two steps further out, balling my hands into fists.

I was resisting hard not kicking the bitch and relishing in her fall to the very last step.

When she reached the top, I didn’t hesitate, plunging my knuckles into her face, landing a punch on her left eye.

She backed away but quickly gripped the banister, that’s when I connected my fist to her nose this time, causing her to lose balance and tumble down a few steps. She sat up, wiping the blood off of her nose as she gawked at me with fuming anger.