L A N A
The bathroom is huge, almost bigger than my entire apartment back home. Cream marble, a sunken tub, gold fixtures and a rainfall shower that looks like it was designed for royalty. There's even a tray waiting for me, filled with fluffly towels, a silk robe and bottles so elegant they look like art.
I don't even know where to start.
I catch my reflection in the mirror and almost flinch. My makeup is not completely ruined, my mascara smudged into black creases beneath my eyes. My lips are cracked, and my hair, which was perfectly styled for my engagement party a few hours ago, is now completely ruined.
I don't look like me anymore... instead, I look like someone who lost everything in a single night.
I sigh to myself and decide there is no point in wallowing in despair. And so, I turn and make my way to the shower and turn on the water. The first touch of it makes me gasp before eventually I allow the warmth to cool my tense muscles. I let the burning water run down my skin, washing away the remnants of make-up, the smell of fear and the faint traces of Ezio's cologne still clinging to my dress. But no matter how long I stand here, I can't wash away the image of him. The way he looked at me... so calm, curious, yet dangerous. The way he looked at me, the way he said my name...
"You're mine now..." His voice suddenly replays in my head, haunting and possessive and making me shudder despite the hot water running along my skin.
I shake away the thought of him and try to focus on finishing my shower. Fifteen minutes pass faster than I realise, and by the time I step out, the shower feels cold against my wet skin. I dry myself thoroughly before wrapping the robe around my damp skin, drying off my hair with a towel.
I push open the bathroom door, expecting to have a bit of privacy while I get dressed, but I am sadly mistaken. I freeze at the bathroom door just as I come face to face with a full team of women standing and waiting for me. They appear to be stylists, makeup artists, hairdressers... an army of professionals staring back at me as if I am a project laid out on the table. Suddenly, I feel too self-conscious, and instantly wrap my arms around myself as I step further into the room.
"You made it with forty seconds to spare..." I hear Fernanda's voice, making me turn in her direction, watching as she stands with a woman close to her, holding onto a tablet.
"Good, we have a tight schedule." He says before she makes her way over to me. "Begin." She orders, and before I can even respond, hands descend on me. I am tugged away to the vanity table, where I would take a seat, just as the women now begin to work on my hair and makeup. It all happens at once, too quickly for me to even process what's happening to me. My robe is whisked away, clothes I didn't consent to are placed on my skin: brushes, sprays and powders whip through the air so quickly, I feel like I am standing at the centre of a storm.
I don't have the energy to fight them or resist. I let them turn me like a doll that they've been instructed to dress as my mind drifts off into somewhere far, some place I can actually feel safe.
At some point, someone pulls the zipper of a dress, and I feel cold silk running along my skin. It's calming, despite the circumstances, and as I look back in the mirror, I am completely stunned by what I see.
It's a long, black gown. And not just black, but midnight black. Mysterious, seductive and the complete opposite of the dress I had arrived in. My hair is styled in fluffy, bouncy curls, and I've got on heavy makeup; a sultry, smoky eye and a bold ombre red lip. It's like I'm a completely different person, one that would fit perfectly into Ezio's world...
"Hm. This will do." Fernanda says once the stylists step away from me, not even bothering to look back at me. It's like they're all just trained robots, brought here to do their jobs and leave right after.
Before I can even take the time to gather myself after I've gotten my personal space back, Fernanda takes a close step towards me, and that's when I feel it, a cold pressure against the base of my spine...
A gun...
My stomach drops sharply, and I freeze in an instant, my gaze meeting Fernanda's terrifyingly calm one in the mirror's reflection.
"Listen carefully," Fernanda begins, her voice low and professional. "When we walk through those halls, you do not speak unless spoken to. You do not ask questions, you don't make a sound. If Don Ezio calls for you, you go to him immediately. And if you cause a scene..." She begins, pressing the gun harder this time, making my breath hitch in fear as my heart thumps in my chest.
"You won't survive it." Her voice is plain and simple, and I gulp inaudibly as I look her in the eye, fearing what she might do to me.
"Nod if you understand." Is what she asks me, and I immediately nod my head in response, blinking lightly as I try my best to calm myself and not let the fear get a hold of me.
"Good." She lets out, her tone changing entirely as she finally pulls the gun away, allowing me to exhale deeply and watch as she begins making her way towards the door.
"Now, let's go." She says, just as she opens the door and motions for me to walk. As the door opens, distant jazz music floods into the room, leading me to believe that the party must've already started. I blink a few times, trying to get over the fear of what might happen to me, but it never truly leaves. My heels click against the tiles as I make my way forward and through the hallway, just as Fernanda follows after me.