They Are The Monsters.
They Are The Princes.
. . .
Leyla Campbell, daughter of a corrupted politician, never expected her father to give her to them - two of the deadliest men in the world, for the sake of his reputation.
They don't seem safe.
T...
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Olivia looked up at me. She was sitting in between Ashton and Xerxes Creed, her third husband sitting across from her. Dante Valentino was here, too.
So, nine people in total.
Awesome.
"Leyla."
She stood up, dressed in a black dress that hugged her body softly, and stepped towards me. My arms opened automatically and I let her hug me, pushing down tears.
Olivia was a lot older than me - we had a five years gap. She was the one who had ignited my interest in history after giving me a book on art history.
She pulled back, her dark eyes searching my face for something and then dropped to my body, looking at every skin visible.
"We have not hurt her," Fabiano, who was sitting between Dante and Giovanni, said. There was only one spot left now, between Giovanni and Xerxes.
"Excuse me if I don't take your word for it, Fabi." The hint of anger in her voice did not go undetected. She looked back at me. "We have a lot to talk about but let's eat first. Miss Summers made the food but someone made her leave." She looked at Giovanni.
He smirked. "She needs to learn how to not overstep, Livy. That's all."
"You need to learn to keep your mouth shut," she muttered under her breath so that only I could hear. I smiled.
She smiled back. "Let's sit, yes?"
She sat back down on her soot and I sat at the only empty seat. I felt tense. Xerxes was a stranger I was yet to talk to and Giovanni was a man I knew but dreaded to even look at. It had felt like he'd hurt me. And my instincts were rarely wrong.
"How was your honeymoon?" Dante asked later the first course arrived.
"It was good," Ashton smiled at Olivia. "My beautiful wife insisted we stay there for more than two weeks."
I looked away, feeling as if I was invading a personal moment.
I ate in silence as the conversation flowed at the table. It was clear they all were used to talking to each other. I appreciated Olivia's attempts of trying to include me, but I was too tense to talk. I felt like an intruder.
The dessert arrived and Giovanni slid his in front of me. It was cannoli again. "I'm full. You want it?"
I should have you thrown naked into a fucking cell for this. We've been good to you, Campbell. Don't make me mad now.
I shivered with fear as his words echoed in my head. There was no doubt that he'd do what he promised.
But I knew if I opened my mouth, even to eat, I would sob. So I shook my head, looking down at my hands.
"Are you not going to eat yours?" He asked.
I shook my head.
He stayed silent and then he stood up. "Come with me, Leyla."
"Giovanni-" Olivia began but he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Livy. But she's mine."
I stood up and allowed him to pull me out of the dining room by my hand. I was shaking with fear still. My eyes were curtained by tears.
He walked to a room and pushed inside. It was a cigar room - looking to be worth millions.
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He sat down on the brown couch and pulled me on his lap. His manly cologne invaded my nostrils, his hand gripped my waist, making me straddle him.
I fixed my eyes on the button of his suit, partly ready for another series of cruel words leaving his pink lips. I pinched my lips together to stop them from shaking. Tears filled my eyes but I didn't let them drop.
"Piccolina, look at me."
I shook my head. "...please..."
"Look at me, Leyla. I won't ask again."
I forced my blurry eyes up, looking into his.
He cupped my face and finally the tears fell. I wiped them away but more came in their place too quickly. Soon enough, I was sobbing, wiping my tears away continuously as he watched me. I didn't look at his face - I couldn't if I wanted to stop crying anytime soon.
"Baby..." He tucked me to his chest, wrapping his strong arms around me. I sobbed into his chest, my shaking hands fisting his fine suit. He rubbed my back gently. "Stop crying, please."
I couldn't. I couldn't stop crying. He continuously rubbed my back, kissing the top of my head, muttering things in Italian, and eventually, my shoulders stopped shaking. I stayed there drained and sniffling as he kept muttering things in Italian.
"I'm sorry," he said in English. "I'm sorry, Piccolina. I'm so fucking sorry I scared you."
