His Torned Bellissima

Chapter Two

7 years later.

Clicking expensive high heels, the chattering of the highly classed echoed throughout the humongous mansion as the golden chandeliers shone brightly, the candles lit twinkled with every little movement.

The mansion stood there as if the surrounding nature had embraced it, that the flora flowed within it as much as around it. For the architect had loved the trees so much that there was a mighty oak in the centre, centuries old, and the great house had been built around it.

The smell of expensive perfumes all combined into one, making it sort of suffocating. Dresses and tuxedos of different colours and styles, sizes and shapes, we all wore, the colours all combining to that of one carnival like combination. The white and black outline of the mansion stood out as most of these mansions were painted white and gold.

The mighty windows stood wide and behold, leaving for us a breath-taking view of the infinite stars and the full moon.

Beautiful.

I always dreamt of designing great buildings and homes like I've admired throughout my life. And four years later after I turned eighteen, here I am, out of the orphanage and on my two feet, known as the fourth out of the top ten most famous architects in Italy.

It was my dream come true, yet something felt missing.

The nightly breeze blew gently, caressing my pale skin softly. Goosebumps rising almost immediately, making me instinctively rub both of my arms. I sighed softly as I drowned in my thoughts, seeking out my insecurities and deepest fears. My happy memories and beautiful dreams.

Tess Brooklyn.

A girl with milk white skin, ice blue eyes, lips coloured with a shade of nude. And the thing most people admire about her is her rare, albino hair, white, just plain white.

But that doesn't label her as a bubbly and happy person just because she wears a smile or because her laughter was filled with what seemed like joy.

No one saw past her tired eyes or her fake smile. She too had demons.

Brutal ones.

Demons that were once suppressed now danced happily freely, without permission fed on her emotions, on herself as if she didn't matter; as if she was nothing.

As much as she tells herself it's not her fault, not herself to blame, not her; the guilt can never be suppressed. She tells herself that she deserves better but when you think about it, does she really?

A messed-up mind, insecurities and flaws, silent cries- that girl is Tessa Brooklyn.

Me.

A deep sigh escaped my lips as the stars all twinkled in the dark sky. I stood alone on the large balcony, lost deep in my thoughts as the little night creatures hummed in a chilling melody.

"Admiring the sky, bellissima?"

A deep, raspy voice asked from behind me, wrapping his muscular arms around my waist, sending instant shivers up and down my spine. I didn't bother to turn around. A frown rests upon my lips.

I knew from the tone of his voice, his words, his scent, who he was.

He was my daydream and my nightmare.

"Calix." I whispered softly, my breath shaky as I tried to focus on the sky. My heart was racing, and my body wanted to move but I just couldn't. It was one of the effects he had on me, whether it was for the good or for the bad.

"The sky's beautiful tonight, bellissima, but you make it gorgeous." Deeply, his voice praised as I turned around to face him as he looked down at me.

His raven black hair was messy, some stands fell onto his face, making my hand itch just to remove them like I always did. His jawline defined, a place where most of my kisses were placed because of our height difference, it was hard to reach his lips if he didn't bend to my level.

But his neck, my oh my, it was yearning for me to trail kisses down his-

Stop it, you little who-

"Mia bambola." He mumbled, his hands cupped my cheeks, caressing them with his thumb gently.

Sparks flew all over, our body heat increased as my eyes found his, a sense of mysterious ways and emotions flashed through his eyes.

His eyes.

They were always something else. They were another universe of chaos and beauty.

In those grey eyes remained sparks of the blacksmith's fire, it had the bluish hue of sunlight upon slate. He had eyes of monochrome memories, as if he were the lead in some old silver-screen movie.

Bringing his forehead to touch mine, he stared deeply into my doe eyes. The smell of whisky lingered in his breath but it didn't bother me.

In fact, I wondered what it'd taste like, his lips on mine.

I was to run for the hills and never come back to him. I was to hate him. I was to scream at him. To hurt him. To leave. But I couldn't bring myself to. He held the intensity within his eyes like he did seven years ago when we were teenagers.

His smell, his touch, his eyes. Him.

An irresistible touch, a confusing feeling.

I always dreamt of living a fairy tale, ending my book with a happy ending with my prince charming and I. But not always will your prince in shining armour be the one you expected. Your prince might be incapable of saving you from disaster and sorrow. Maybe he could be that one to cause that pain; my sorrow. He can be that one to bring back past memories and feelings.

But would my heart give in?

"Where were you, amore mio?"