Vince expelled a harsh breath. He tugged at the nape on his hair, hoping that his next words wouldn't cause too much trouble. "Castor knew where you were for the past three years, but he never went to get you. I think that says a lot."
She blinked a few times. "Really?"
"He went crazy when we found out you have a boyfriend knowing he can't make his usual threats. It's like a drug withdrawal, but you're here now. And I really like it if you don't ruin his good mood." Vincent went on.
Callista cast him a wary glance. "Are you just saying all this so Cas won't be mad at you?"
Vince grinned, "Maybe. Being kick hurts a lot."
Caly hid her phone back into her purse. She started tying her hair back into a side bun. Vincent watched in fascination as she pulled a thick strand and repositioned her hairpins. "How the hell do you do that?”
"You're interested?" she smirked.
"Whatever. Why do you want to meet me anyway?"
She finished styling her hair, facing Vincent. "I want you to meet someone."
"Like a date?" Vincent could feel himself cringing with his own question.
"No." All traces of jesting were gone from the queen's face. Her chin jutted out, eyes brimming with anticipation. "I want you to entice her to gamble.”
"Is she rich? I don't like people who don't pay even if this is Castor's request. Business is business," Vince replied. He loved gambling. The high he derived from risking everything in a game of chance was unrivaled. But he had no adoration for losers with colossal debts.
"She's rich." Callista's bow-shaped lips curled into a taunting smirk. "Miss Delilah Gallo."
Vince inserted both hands inside his pockets. "Now, we're talking."
***
CHAPTER 8
Red lips stretched into a smile when Callista reached the registration table. The crimson Valentino evening dress she wore caught the two girls' attention, their eyes raking her elegant form. Callista was aware of how virtuous she looked on red. The color of fire and blood. It signified danger, strength, power, as well as passion, desire, and love. No wonder it was her favorite color.
The two girls welcomed the heiress with bright faces as she handed them her invitation. Their heart-shaped patterned shirt and heart-shaped lipstick made Caly smile. It was amusing. "Welcome, Miss Genovese."
"Here," Caly offered an envelope where she had put a hundred thousand dollars check. As one of the girls received it, another hand jutted to give their invitation.
"Good evening, Mr. Castellano."
Callista clenched her jaw. The fire rose on her heart, and anger buzzed on her ears. Franco Castellano challenged every vein in her body. If it wasn't for her plan, she'd have lashed out and proved to all onlookers why red-suited her.
"Oh, my donation, right?" Franco mumbled while his other hand searched through his suit's inside pocket. Instead of an envelope, he brought out a checkbook.
It flared up Callista's wrath. The incredulity she felt was mirrored on the two girls' flabbergasted faces. They watched as Franco bent down and wrote on the check. The scribbled amount of five hundred thousand dollars was dark and thick, showing no hesitancy from the man.
One of the girls gaped openly. Her hand shook as she accepted the check.
Franco straightened his red jacket as he swirled his head to her. She noticed his smirk more than the wine red three-piece suit that hugged his form. To Callista's horror, he leaned in close enough to whisper. "A hundred thousand? Pathetic.”
God, she wanted to slap him.
Callista planned on going home after giving her donation, but Franco's presence changed her mind. She couldn't leave without a reprisal. It was not her style.
People were beginning to pour in when Callista and Franco walked in. They breathe in the scent of roses and the huge red balloons that festooned the small stage. Caly smirked as she was maneuvered to the same table as Franco. Words of sarcasm and wit settled on her tongue, ready to strike when the mayor sat beside her.
She cleared her throat, smiling at the politician instead.
"Miss Genovese, I expected to see your father," he greeted. "Though your company is a welcome one too."
The mayor was a statesman through and through. Caly was aware of his dislike for the mafia and her father, but he couldn't do anything. Congress had passed a law for the governor to do as he pleased with the city's gangs. It trumped the mayor's power, and if Callista was in his position, she'd be pissed too.
"Good evening, Mayor Johnson," she smiled. They talked through the first part of dinner, and Callista began to regret coming to the charity event. The number of calculated accolades and fake smiling she had to endure was getting on her nerves.
A flash jerked her head up, and Caly cursed silently. There was a photographer on the right and near the stage. She met the camera's lens before dodging down, pretending she dropped her purse.
One picture could mean a thousand words. There's no way she would allow herself to be seen with Franco again. Callista might have sneered at Delilah's need for an unsoiled reputation, but she was just the same. Status equaled power, and she was at the point where she couldn't lose it.
Caly decided to excuse herself and proceeded to search for the restroom. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before deciding to go home. Her revenge on Franco would have to wait. She grabbed her purse and sauntered out of the restroom. But another strange coincidence made her bump into the Castellano's heir.
The men's room was right in front of the women's room. The same thing must be running through the male's mind because he stopped, sending a glower in her direction. Callista glared back, and both had failed to discern the approach of a girl in a heart-patterned shirt.
"You're both caught!" she yelled in a chirpy tone, clipping the handcuffs on their wrists.
Franco tugged at his right hand, causing Caly to collide with his chest. She hissed, pushing him back, but she continued crashing to him.
"Come on!" Franco yelled in revulsion. He stood still that Caly finally had the chance to put a space between them. She maneuvered to his right side, so they both face the girl.
Callista drew her left wrist upwards and remembered where it was attached to. She sighed audibly, glaring at the girl. "What's your deal? What is this?"
"Uhm, please don't get angry. It's part of the program. My boss said we need to pair up couples and–3
"Program? This man's engaged!" Caly yelled.
"Jenny!"
The girl whirled at the man who appeared at the end of the hallway. He wore the same heart-shaped shirt as the other employees. His eyes got bigger as he went nearer to the group.
"Larry! I found my first–
"Oh my god. I'm so sorry, Miss Genovese, Mr. Castellano. She's new, and she probably didn't know that–
Franco raised their chained hands. He spoke in a clipped tone, eyebrows drew together. "Stop explaining. Just get the key to these.”
Jenny searched through her jeans' pockets but came up empty. Her boss apologized once more and promised to find the key in the hotel's office. They dashed out from the hallway leaving the two elites behind.
Callista shut her eyes, clenching her right hand. Her knuckles were touching Franco's hand, feeling the heat that radiated from it. She was about to open her mouth when a pair of girls entered the hallway.
She cursed, head flinging around for a hiding spot. But the heiress didn't get a chance to do anything as Franco yanked her to the corner. His body hovered over her slim form, his left arm planted beside her head. Franco rested his head on the crook of her shoulder, successfully concealing their faces.
"Don't move." His hot breath blew near Callista's ear, forcing her to contain her shiver. "Or we're fucked.”
After a few minutes, Franco's eyes moved over her glorious features. Their eyes met, and Caly had to bite the inside of her cheeks to stop the rush of blood to her cheeks. He was open to her probing gaze. She could see his plump red lips, his defined jaw, and the twinkle of h
is earring on his left ear.
His perfect dark blonde hair was pushed back, creating smooth waves. Callista was suddenly curious how it would feel like to run her fingers through it, how sexy his groan would be as she pulled. Hard.
Fuck. She was starting to dislike their proximity.
"What are you looking at? You don't like being close to me?" He pressed his body closer.
The pompous way he said it was enough to ignite Caly's blood. One of her eyebrows rose, a sneer settling on her upper lip. "Why would I want to be close to a man who's a fucking waste of conception?”
As soon as the words were out, Franco's jaw clenched. He raised his sapphire eyes to hers, and his face crackled with annoyance. Caly braced herself for his rebuttal, but none came. The Castellano heir just kept staring with something close to disappointment in his eyes.
This confused Callista some more.
"Ma'am, sir, we're really sorry!" The girl exclaimed as soon as she was near. She unlocked the handcuffs while muttering unending apologies.
Callista only nodded, but her attention was on Franco. His face was pensive, muscles taut, eyeing the handcuffs as it opened. He didn't waste a minute and immediately turned his back after he freed his hand.
"Thank you," she muttered to the girl and marched to the exit.
Thomas was leaning against the hood of her Lexus. He had a bouquet of red roses on his hand-tied with an enormous black ribbon. The old man was looking at his watch, eyes squinting due to the lack of light. Caly cleared her throat. "Is that for your wife?"
"No, miss." He looked up, handing the flowers to her. "It's for you."
"Me?" Callista accepted the bouquet and instantly hunted for the card. A smile colored her face as she read the words.
I can't give you my heart, but I do have another throbbing organ you might be interested in4
your Castor
ps. I actually meant that my headaches so if you could come here, I will love you more1
Callista laughed out loud, causing Thomas to give her questioning looks. He frowned but eventually let out a smile. "I take it you're happy then?"
"Yeah," she replied, smothering the rest of her chuckles. But a crease crawled its way back to her forehead when she saw the Bugatti next to her Lexus. "Is this...?"
Thomas followed Callista's eyes. "Ah, yes. Mr. Castellano parked his car beside yours." The old man appeared thoughtful before he glanced at his boss. "Do you want me to... hurt his car?”
Callista wanted her revenge on Franco, but his somber mood from earlier fizzled the thought. She felt guilt once again because whether she admitted it or not, Caly knew that her words had affected him. He got issues of his own.
Nevertheless, she needed a subtle payback.
Caly smirked, "Thomas, hand me my checkbook, please."
The queen decided to opt for an act of sophisticated revenge. She wrote the amount of five hundred thousand and one dollars, feeling smug about the one dollar difference.
Caly kissed the check until her crimson lipstick made an imprint. She smirked, sliding the paper on Franco's car. "I win."
***
CHAPTER 9
Franco Castellano drove his car back to their garage, yet he didn't immediately get off. He let a few seconds pass, scrolling through his Twitter feed to waste more time and subsequently hamper facing his parents. His eyebrow rose, glimpsing at the far away photos of him and Callista. Several people voiced out their theories. It ranged from them being secret lovers to enemies with benefits.
Is our life really that interesting?
He let out a sigh, preparing to exit the app and ignore the dumb speculations when a text came through. Franco scanned the long message, but he ceased comprehending in the first sentence. 'It's Valentine's. There is really no romantic bone in your body.'1
Franco could picture her screaming. Veins protruding from her slender neck, pale skin flushing in exasperation. Delilah Gallo was quite the spoiled brat. At first, Franco had thought they could get along; two people forced into marriage was bound to have similarities. But she was ostentatious.
Delilah cherished attention, always gunning for the spotlight by acting as the victim. She was manipulative in the filthiest way possible.
He left the car, noticing the piece of paper as it dropped on the ground. Five hundred thousand and one dollars dazzled his eyes. Others would have jumped in glee at finding such amounts, but Franco only felt disdain. His eyes narrowed at the lipstick stain, so perfect, so red, that his head pounded in bewilderment. The act was intimate, peculiar, and dare he said it, seductive.
Before Franco's mind could delve deeper into the eccentric actions of Callista Genovese, his parents walked out of their front door. They hovered near the porch, standing in between the tall Venetian columns. He contemplated hiding near the bushes or taking the chance to dash to his car, but all that was pointless as Francisco Castellano caught his eye.
Franco clenched his jaw, traveling the white staircase to reach the group. He hid his revulsion upon seeing his fiancé, wrapped in pink silk that barely covered her ass and breasts.
Delilah tucked one of her blonde curls behind her ear. "Hey, I came to give the chocolates I baked to your mother.”
Franco saw the two black bags of Noka chocolates in his mother's arm before Delilah could even finish her sentence. He tuned out the rest of her sham compliments, silently praying she would leave soon.
There were a lot of laughs from Althea Castellano. Her bob cut swayed as she exchanged praises with the Gallo girl. Franco scoffed, earning his mother's glare. She ushered Delilah's arm outside, tilting her head at his son.
"Franco, see your fiancé out," Althea said with a smile. Her face smoothened out, removing the traces of irritation she just showed.
Franco cast a short glance to his father, and he nodded his permission. Clicking his tongue, Franco seized Delilah's small hand. He pulled her down the stairs towards her waiting car. He didn't know how far his father wanted to go, but her mother's expectant face said it all.
He swiveled sharply, kissing the girl on the lips. Luckily, she tasted chocolate flavor, and it was enough for him to tangle his tongue with hers. Delilah reached up, clutching his suit jacket, moaning at the heat.
Franco pulled back, resisting the urge to wipe his lips. "Go."
Delilah's hot breath wafted on his neck. Her cerulean eyes widened in arousal. She licked her lips and stepped back.
Franco shot her a pointed look, wondering why she remained immobile. "What are you waiting for?"
"Are you with Callista earlier?" Delilah asked, nose in the air.
"And?"
The girl snorted, pale hair waving against the wind. "Vincent said she was going to a charity party. And I thought–"
"You thought wrong." Franco hardened his gaze on her. He wanted to leave now, but the burning sensation from a pair of eyes behind him halted his intentions. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Good night, Miss Gallo."
Delilah forced out a smile, maroon lips stretching wide. "Good night."
Franco watched in quiet contemplation as her car sped off. He let out a relieved sigh and rushed to the mansion, envisioning that his king-sized bed was within reach. But his illusions shattered when his father came into view.
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