The mirror cracked and her blobs of blood trailed from her head into her mouth. She staggered back, unable to see for a while. The floor underneath her shook, pain crippling her vision. She bent over trying to prevent herself from crumpling to the ground; her fingernails scraping the ledge of the wash handbasin as she tried to steady herself from falling. When she looked up, the attacker was gone. Whoever it was. She splashed water on her forehead trying to rinse out the blood, panicked. What the heck? What was that?
Who tried to attack her? Muriel? Muriel, she fumed, her mind clicking. Blood boiled beneath her skin as she inspected her damaged forehead in the mirror. That witch was doing all she could so that the photoshoot would not be a success. So the jealousy has now turned physical?
"Woah, what happened here?" Livia bustled in, her arms full of clothes.
"I just slipped and fell."
The clothes fell from her hands as she made a beeline for her. "Oh my god. This looks so bad. Why all this commotion on your first day?"
"You think the makeup artist will be able to take care of this?"
Livia touched the sore area gently. "This is a deep gash. I don't know if they are that good."
Aria looked down on her well-manicured hand. She felt some wet-drops splash on them. Tears.
Livia held her. "Hey, it's okay. We just have 45 minutes left and it will all be over."
"I don't know if I should tell you this but I was attacked. I didn't fall. I lied. Someone came in here and violently hit my head against the mirror."
Livia flinched, her gaze flicking to the mirror. "Holy shit," her hand reached out to the jagged pieces. "I didn't even notice this. Were you able to see the person?"
"No," her voice choked. "But at first I got a flash of your handbag, and I thought that it was you."
"I don't want this to leave the four walls of this toilet, so I'm only going to call Renna. She knows how to keep her mouth close, right?"
Aria nodded.
"I'll send for her, I want all of this to be very shush." She dug out the phone from her pocket, and it immediately rang. She took some minutes to answer the call, while Aria got dressed. "The art director said we have fifteen minutes to round up whatever it is we are doing here. Let me call for Renna."
Renna came in, looking so shocked. She quickly did the makeup expertly, and fifteen minutes later Aria went out. Second shots were arched poses on the lampstands, facing wind fans at full blast. "Yeah, these are so good." The photographer smiled into the camera.
"Fierce," Angelo commanded. "Olana is for fierce people, so you have to display that. Show that."
Aria smiled. This was the first time since the shot began that he didn't sound disdainful. It actually honestly sounded like a compliment. They took little breaks in between where they dissected shots, changed lights and angles, and changed backdrops. While they took the breaks, she looked around for Muriel but she didn't see her. She was definitely the assailant; she was sure. But what was the end goal? Incapacitate her enough so she wouldn't be able to continue with the shots?
Lunch was at a downtown trendy American café. The crew spilled on the seats, discussing the shoot. She didn't know any of them, so she couldn't vibe with them.
She also didn't have much appetite for the lunch which was grilled veggies. She tried to shove a spoon of the food in her mouth but she retched. Silently. She didn't want to make a second bad impression.
Her mind was fixed on Major. Major. Major.
"How many minutes for lunch?" she asked the photographer's assistant who was seated beside her.
"like a 30 minute break?"
Thirty minutes. That was more than enough to drive over to the Bacuzzi's manor at Podova to check on Major and then come back. She guessed that he would be lodged there, since the red carpet was taking place in an event hall near Abano Termo. While the crew was so engrossed in their conversation, she slipped into her car, and drove through with Google map to the place. She just needed to see him. Too put her mind at rest.
She finally reached the huge gate of the manor. She walked up to the huge gate. A camera moved, capturing her face, the gate slid open. Her heart thumped in her chest. She didn't know what to expect.
She climbed the steps to his foyer, tense. There was nothing in sight. Not a car and not a guard. The manor seemed eerily quiet. Midway on climbing the metallic steps, he stepped out of the huge doors. "I saw you through the cameras. The nerve of you to come here without informing me first."
"I tried," she breathed, exasperated. "I've texted and called, and all the calls are going to voicemail."
His voice suddenly turned gruff. "You shouldn't be here, Aria. If I wanted to talk to you, I would." She took in the dark bags under his eyes, his unshaved chin, and sleep crusts on his lids. He looked exhausted. Done. "This is really not a good time"
What was going on with him?
She stepped closer. "I want to help. I hate the silence. I dread the silence."
He swiped his hands down his tired face. "If I need you, I'll call."
She took a shaky step back as the words tore through her. If I need you, I'll call. Need. Need. Need. Like she was a commodity. He always treated her like she was a commodity. Like an object. Her voice deadpanned; all the excitement, want, lust gone.
"I'll be going."
He shot her a weary look, voice drained. "You should."
She nodded once. Then spun on her heels. She wasn't going to be where she wasn't needed. And when he felt like it, he would call, and she would jump up at the opportunity. Like the fool that she was.
She stepped out of the huge gates feeling defeated. Way worse than she came.
Before she could blink, a black sleek Benz zoomed to stop in front of her, hightailed by a Maserati and a Brabus. Uniformed clad men armed with guns jumped out of the car. The second car; the Maserati, no one came out of it.
she was caught in the headlights. Guns pointing at her. Her brain trying to register what was happening, and failing miserably. She didn't know what to do, except raising her hands and her mouth falling open in shock.
The second's car engine finally shuttered shut. The car doors opened. Men came out of each door. But it was an aged man in an impeccable suit that caught her eye. His sleeves was tucked, gun neatly tucked in his Calvin Klei's pants. He looked like a regular nine-to-fiver, but in a devastatingly dangerous way. He was tall, huge, with black hair peppered with grey. On his wrist was bracelet embossed with an R emblem.
Aria gasped when she recognized it for what it was. Mafia-lord Ricci. He came closer to her with assured, arrogant footsteps. She shook on the spot, highly terrified of the man, but scared of stepping back lest they shoot her.
"I know you," his beer-stained breath fanned her face. She shuddered. He grabbed her stiff face, pulling roughly on her blushed-up cheeks. "You, You," he patted her cheeks roughly. "I've seen you on my FYP with my son-in-law, you're the illegal love interest huh?"
The second man who was watching quietly, finally moved from the car to stand beside Ricci. "Who knows if she is the one who kidnapped her to retaliate for that dastardly rumor."
Ricci flicked his gaze from the second man to her. A cackling laughter bubbled from his perfect mouth. "You really think she is capable of kidnapping?"
The second man tucked his palms in his pockets, shrugging. "Well, she has a good motive. Petty, yes, but a good motive still."
Ricci took a step back, looking at her in a new light. "And who knows? Could also have employed the help of Major. Cause tell me why Major is still frolicking with her instead of putting all his energy in finding my daughter."