Hating The Mafia King

18: I Can Never Trust Him

I am sitting on a chair while Marta's assistant Layla is working on my makeup. My brain has been pacing around trying to figure out what in the hell is going on and what the hell I saw. Things aren't just adding up in my head. I mean, it doesn't make any sense because I saw the plank fall on him, I saw blood streaming from his body and I also watched him get rushed to the hospital.

I want to say I'm being delusional but it's not possible. I know what I saw but again I testify to what I saw today. When Rebecca asked me to stop the car, I saw Richie, standing in front of his car and talking to someone on the phone, he seemed very angry at the moment, and without any hesitation, I watched him slam his hand on the car with frustration. He slammed that same hand that was injured or should I say, fake injured- I don't really know but I do know that he had no bandages on and he looked perfectly fine.

"I'm done now, you can take a look at yourself in the mirror," Layla says, pulling me out of my thoughts. She hands me a small mirror, and I eagerly take it, curious to see how I look.

As I gaze into the mirror, I can't help but not focus, I have my mind elsewhere, and focusing is just too hard for me right now. Not wanting to keep Layla waiting, I hand the mirror back and say, "Thanks." But Layla notices the look on my face and asks, a little concerned, "You don't like it?"

I quickly reassure her, "No, no, I love it! I think I look absolutely amazing."

Relieved, Layla nods and says, "Oh, okay. Well, your dress is all ready. You can go ahead and put it on."

Grateful for Layla's help, I thank her as she lays the dress on the bed. I walk over to the closet and carefully slip into the gorgeous gown. The golden floral lace feels delicate against my skin, and the strappy design adds a touch of elegance. As I admire myself in the mirror, I can't help but appreciate the attention to detail. The backless design showcases my bareback and shoulders, giving the dress a hint of sensuality.

I walk back into the room and Layla then assists me in putting on a stunning diamond necklace and a matching set of earrings, adding a touch of sparkle to the ensemble. With the final touch of slipping into shiny heels, I feel like a true fashionista. I walk over to the full-length mirror, taking in the complete look. The gown gracefully flows down, covering my heels and leaving a bit of mystery about the kind of shoes I'm wearing.

I turn around the moment I hear the door open. My heart skips a beat as I see Richie standing there, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. I couldn't help but shift my gaze to his so-called injured arm. It really hurts me that Richie is lying to me, but I guess I should have seen it coming, he's a mafia king and lying is practically their second nature.

As Layla excuses herself and Richie walks into the room, I quickly say, "Thanks, Layla," expressing my gratitude before she leaves.

Once Layla steps out, I shift my gaze back to Richie. Trying not to come off as ungrateful, I say, "Thanks for the dress."

"Again, I should be thanking you for wearing it," he smirks, confidently striding towards me.

I can't help but roll my eyes. Doesn't he ever get tired of flirting?

"You look absolutely stunning, by the way," he says, gently kissing the side of my head as if to avoid messing up my makeup.

Richie then goes over to the mirror and starts digging through a mini cupboard. I stand behind him, unsure of how to confront him. I have so many questions in my head but letting them out is the hardest part, I don't want to confront him and be wrong, but at the same time, I need to confront him to let him know that his petty little lies won't do the trick on me.