MoboReader> Romance > Through the Dark Corners of Rome

   Chapter 10 Toys

Through the Dark Corners of Rome By hei cue Characters: 9808

Updated: 2019-08-30 21:34


It was already passed eight in the evening when Margaux stepped out of their villa. She had been grumpy the whole day. Her phone was missing and she couldn't find it no matter how she searched.

To be honest, losing the phone was nothing. She could always ask Alberta or any of their guards to get her a replacement whenever she wanted.

However, she was waiting for a very important phone call. What if Alejandro suddenly remembered that he had a daughter who was waiting for him to explain everything he was up to?

'Psh! Dream on, Margaux!' She rolled her eyes.

Soon enough and she reached the hilltop where her treehouse was. She was still frowning when she dropped her bag on the ground and gave the whole place a slow once-over. She wanted to make sure that there wouldn't be anyone to her vent-out her mood.

She then squatted before her bag and pulled out a bottle of chardonnay. She opened it and drunk straight from the bottle like a superb drunkard.

Getting her fill, she slipped the wine back to her bag and then pulled out a speaker. She started pressing her fingers heavily on its buttons as if she was trying to poke holes on it rather than turning it on. After setting the speaker, she walked on tiptoes to the same spot under the tree where she always danced.

She arched her back, lifted her arms, and then bent her knees delicately. In a second, her slender body took the perfect dancing posture of her mother; one leg forward, chest out, stomach in. To top it, she hardened her face, completing her stance.

She didn't wait long until the loudest, most scornful music that hill had heard played again. It was her mother's favorite sonata and at the same time, the only music piece her father had written his entire life. It was an angst-ridden rhythm; fast, angry, and deliberately unsteady. It was a complete irony to its title "To My Beloved" or as to how her father wrote it on the back of his torn-up music book, "Alla Mia Amata".

The music was a puzzle to her but she had learned to love it as it was Alejandro's piece. Why would her dad dedicate a piece of music to her mom that sounded like he wanted to kill the piano? It was supposed to be a love song.

Love songs should be played softly and gently. More so, love songs shouldn't be danced the way Margaux was madly moving. Her steps were rapid and powerful as she absorbed the anger of every heavy tone. She was one with the beat.

She was already panting and the music was already nearing to its end when Margaux's fierce moves suddenly stopped.

She furrowed her brows and then abruptly turned to the huge tree behind her. She felt odd as if someone was looking at her. However, she saw none.

' Am I just hallucinating?' She chuckled at her thought then added, 'Geez! What happened to my alcohol tolerance? I can't be drunk, right?'

She then wiped her face with her palm and walked towards her speaker.

She turned the m

luck to focus and mentally recover.

After a while, he forced himself to move again, walking slowly at first until his speed accelerated to its full. Then he turned to the darker side of the wood and continued running.

He passed over dozens and dozens of trees without any sound at all. His steps were accurate and trained. He was a tall man but his shoes didn't even make any thump as the dried leaves crushed under his weight. He was just like a ghost; eerie, deadly, and silently beautiful.

It didn't take him long to reach an eight feet firewall that marked the end of the villa's territory. As if the blockage didn't bother him at all, he just gave it a calculating once-over and then cocked his head.

He then walked a few steps back, focused his sharp eyes on it, and then without any ado, charged towards the high wall without any damn. The next thing the trees there witnessed was how a perfectly trained spy swiftly jumped off, leverage his arms on the top of the wall, and landed on both feet soundlessly on the other side.

He winced in pain when his wound ached again but then just shook his head about it.

His face remained emotionless as he scanned the dark dirt road just outside the villa's firewall and stopped upon seeing very manly red hummer with a beautiful woman sitting on its hood.

It was his car and the woman was Lucille, his Girl-Friday.

Feeling his stern gaze, Lucille turned to his direction and then brightly smiled. She drew a deep huff on the Capri cigarette she holding and then jumped out of his car's hood, completely disregarding how sophisticated and professional-looking she was in her pencil skirt and business coat.

She walked like an automatic doll towards his car's passenger seat, opened the door for him, revealing two of his favorite gun cases, and then greeted him in her heavy Italian accent.

"Welcome back to the world of the living, 'il mio giovane maestro'. I brought your toys."

Free to Download MoboReader
(← Keyboard shortcut) Previous Contents (Keyboard shortcut →)
 Novels To Read Online Free

Scan the QR code to download MoboReader app.

Back to Top

shares