Belladonna (Tom Holland)

Three

"Please tell me you didn't kill my parents," my voice was soft and pleading as Georgiana put a warm washcloth on my wrists. She shook her head vehemently, "I would never do that. I was loyal until the day they died, Bella. It's a long story on how I ended up here, I can't explain it entirely." She applied pressure with the washcloth and I winced slightly, but the pain felt comforting, oddly. It reminded me of when I would scrape my knee playing hopscotch and Georgiana would wash it with warm water just as she was doing now. This brought back something I hadn't felt in years. It felt like I was home.

    But I wasn't. I was in the enemy's house and I had to remind myself. It didn't matter if Georgiana was here, she was an enemy too. Whether or not she betrayed my father, she left the family. However, I would never be able to harbor that resent toward her like I do with Tom and Harrison. She's the only family I had left.

    "When Lorenzo dropped me off to gather my things," I began, "You weren't there. Where were you?" "Lorenzo got the message from your father and he called me, telling me to head to Wonderland as soon as I could with my things. He was going to have one of the managers hire me for the time being, but it never happened," she explained, "I'm so sorry I left you, Bella. You have no idea how much I wanted to say goodbye." She placed her hand on my cheek and I leant into it, allowing some tears to slip.

    The door opened slowly and revealed Tom, adjusting his watch before he looked up to focus on us. "You know each other, I presume?" he asked. "No," Georgiana lied, "I was feeling her forehead. Making sure you didn't beat a staph infection into her." "You've worked with me long enough to know I treat all my informants with proper care. After all, I need them alive, don't I?' "Alive and well are clearly two different terms in your dictionary, Mr. Holland," Georgiana rolled her eyes, "She's definitely alive. But well? Far from it."

    Tom ignored her statement and faced me. He then beckoned me with one finger, not saying a word. I followed suit and left the bathroom where Georgiana was cleaning me off. I followed him down the hallway and up the stairs to an extravagant looking office. It was comparable to the Oval Office, but it reeked of cologne and old books. There were no windows in the room either; he probably did that intentionally in case any business meetings went wrong.

    He didn't sit behind his desk, instead he leant his back on it, watching me as I stood anxiously in the doorway. "You're going to have to get used to this place. This is your home now, Miss Dante," he said, "That means take a seat." He gestured to the chair in front of him. Switching glances between him and the chair, I shook my head. "I've had my fill of sitting in chairs whenever you're around. I think I'll stand." "Look at you. You can barely stand. You're leaning on a crutch right now," he then walked over and swiped the crutch from under my arm. Predictably, I stumbled to the ground and he caught me, his hands gently pressed against my ribs.

    He then lead me to the chair and resumed his position of leaning against the desk. I didn't say a word. Instead, I focused on my hands until he cleared his throat. "I bet you're wondering why you're still alive," he started and I shook my head. "You said something about next week. I'm guessing you're going to use me to take down the Biancattis," I mumbled. "Exactly. Why let such a fine pawn go to waste? I never played chess in my life, but I already know I would win every fucking time," he then took a cigar from his pant pocket and placed it in his mouth, "Do you care if I light it?" "You're going to do it anyway. Get used to not asking about my feelings," I said and he grinned as he pulled the lighter out.

    "You said your father never told you about the mob, right?" I nodded. "Then how come you act like one of them? Is it in your blood? If I handed you whiskey, a gun, and a cigar, would you turn into him?" He joked as he blew out a cloud of smoke, "So how did you come to find out about your father's profession?" I shrugged, "How did you find out Santa's not real? You snoop around."