Page 20 of Run, Starlight (The Royal Ballet Presents #3)

MARCELLA

My eyes open, and the strangest sense of peace encompasses me.

I don’t know where I am, or what’s going on.

I can scarcely remember my own name. Marcella , I think to myself, and the only other thing I know is that it’s been years since I truly slept—except last night.

My bones have relaxed to the point of fusing, and I’ve become one with the gloriously soft mattress beneath me.

I know I’m not in my normal bed, but could I still be in my dorm with my normal wave machine playing?

The sheets are soft between my legs, and I sigh in pure happiness.

It takes me a while to open my eyes. Despite how long I’ve slept, I’m still tired.

I feel like if I just drifted off, I could sleep forever and never rise from this bed again.

At this moment, I feel nothing but the overwhelming need to keep sleeping and push away anything that bothers me.

In the back of my mind, something screams for attention.

It’s far away at first, but it comes quickly to the forefront, and I open my eyes at once.

Enzo. My stalker. Lucciano. With a sudden dread, I sit up and forget every ounce of relaxation I had managed. Where the hell am I?

At first, the room is too bright to see, white from the sheets to the bed. My eyes slam closed, a headache threatening to come, and I put my hand in front of my eyes to block the blinding brightness.

I climb out of bed, ignoring how large and gorgeous the room they’ve placed me in is, and run to the window.

Is that… water? Sure enough, I heard waves, and it wasn’t my sound machine.

My mouth hangs open. I’ve only been to the ocean once with Fabrizio when we were young, and while this is more of a bay, the similarity takes my breath and crushes my heart.

Maybe this is a nightmare. It makes sense.

It’s always a nightmare. I fall to my knees onto the hard floor, trying to breathe.

My heart hammers inside my chest, and I gasp for air while trying to make sense of everything.

This feels too real. It’s then I realize I’m not wearing the same costume I was in for the performance.

Someone changed my clothes. The realization hits, and fear makes my knees weak once again.

Before the thought is even formed in my head, the door opens, and one of them stands there.

The someone who dared to change my clothes while I slept.

I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots when I saw my stalker for the first time.

They are so similar that my drowsy head can’t make sense of who is who right now.

Everything I’ve thought, felt, and experienced these last few weeks was a lie.

“I’m so sorry, Marcella,” he says.

He looks me over, and I notice the tattoos down his arm and realize he is the one who I haven’t spoken to repeatedly. The one who held me in his arms last night if I had to guess. My stalker .

Though I guess I have two.

The tears are still running down my cheeks.

I’m sure he’s only apologizing for them, though he doesn’t even understand.

I’m only crying for my brother, for the waves in the distance, for my fear of being trapped here.

There’s nothing he could have done to bring this kind of pain to my heart.

I don’t care that my stalker, of all people, betrayed me. I’m not that stupid.

“If you were sorry, I wouldn’t be here.” I wipe my tears with the back of my hand.

He’s holding a covered plate and puts it over the bed. I have no interest in asking him what’s on it. I’m not sitting here and having breakfast with him. I want to look tough, to push him away and curse him out, but in the silence, more tears form in my eyes.

“I wish it were that simple,” he says like I’m a child, and my fists clench.

It doesn’t lead me to fight, though. I try to concentrate on the now, but I can practically hear Fabrizio’s laugh on those waves, and I see his death in what happened last night.

It’s all crashing into me right now, my past and my present.

One big mistake that I carry heavily over my shoulders.

This isn’t some big attractive man I want to flirt and fuck around with.

He’s a killer, my stalker. I’ve been so stupid for encouraging him, even when I knew what he was.

At least Enzo had the decency to pretend to be sweet.

“Am I going to die?” I ask.

That would explain a lot. I sit with the idea of death for a second. I wished for it for a long time. I was too scared to make it happen like Fabrizio did, but I prayed for a long time simply not to wake up. To leave this world and rest somewhere where my grief wouldn’t follow me.

I look at the waves outside, the bright sun and white sand. This is a nice place to die .

“Everyone dies, Marcella, but I promised I would protect you. Killing you certainly wasn’t part of the plan.”

Plan . So there was a plan and ulterior motives. Of course there were. How else could the two of them have gotten me to this point if there weren’t? He steps closer to me, and I scramble backward, making sure to keep space between us.

“Please don’t be afraid of me,” he says, raising his hands. “I never would have shown you that last night. I promise, Marcella, I may be a monster, but I don't mess with what is innocent.”

I don’t feel very innocent. Not after I asked Enzo to go down on me, and I fucked the man I knew was my stalker. None of that sounds like the actions of an innocent woman. I don’t say that to him, though. If my innocence is what is keeping me alive, I have to hold on to that.

“It doesn’t seem like this was part of your plan either, yet here we are.

” My entire body shakes, and it’s not an act.

Memories are coming back in rapid fire, and the image of the body stretched on that table is vivid in my mind.

I glance at his big hands, and another memory flashes of him washing the blood away.

It was too much, just like Fabrizio dying in front of me, and I can’t think straight about what was there and what is now.

“I know. All I ask is for you not to be afraid. You’re safe with me,” he pleads once again.

The door opens at that precise moment, and I push myself even closer to the wall. The other brother strolls in, and it’s obvious they’re related. I bet they’re even twins. I feel stupid about how obvious it is right now. The more I look, the worse it gets.

“Should she be afraid of me instead, Brother?” Enzo says—if that even is his real name.

My heart races, and stark fear floods my system.

For a moment, I feel like I might pass out again.

Lucciano is one thing—I always knew he was my stalker.

Something had to be unsavory about the whole thing, or he wouldn’t be stalking me.

But Enzo? Sweet, helpful, naive Enzo? It’s like learning that not only am I clueless about most things, I have absolutely no instincts to protect myself.

“What do you want with me?” I ask. Isn’t that what the smart question is when you’ve been kidnapped and they claim they’re not intending to kill you?

“Your pretty pink cunt for breakfast, if you're taking orders, Miss Marcella,” Enzo says, and the mocking lilt to his voice reveals the character he roped me in with was entirely fabricated.

“Shut your mouth,” Lucciano grits angrily, but my pussy flares with need. “She isn’t up for you saying crass shit to her.”

Well, maybe I am just a little. I shake my head at myself because it’s this exact type of thing that got me into this circumstance to begin with.

“I bet you eighty-five dollars she’s wet right now,” Enzo says.

“Eighty-five dollars?” Lucciano’s face turns the brightest shade of red I’ve ever seen. “We are not betting on her pussy.”

“Why that amount?” I ask, truly perplexed.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his wallet, flashing to me that he has exactly eighty-five dollars. “If Lucky won’t bet me, maybe you will. It’s all yours, Marcella. All you need to do is bend over and not be wet.”

I gasp, and Enzo crouches closer to me, his eyes on fire, his fake sweet personality long gone. “I know how that pussy tastes, Marcella. You’re ready to have me filling you up good while Lucky here takes your ass. You’ll be stretched to your limit. ”

My cheeks are burning, and I’m at a loss for words. I’ve never been so wet in my life.

“Stop, Enzo,” Lucky says. I think Lucciano suits him far better, intense and strong like he looks.

His jaw is set, and my gaze lowers to his zipper, and he’s clearly hard.

Apparently, I’m not the only one losing this bet.

Being so painstakingly wrong about everything is intensely humiliating, but can anyone including God himself explain why that makes me even more hot?

I know my face is telling all that Enzo needs to know, and he stands up with a satisfied smirk. “Show me that cunt, Little Star.”

Enzo doesn’t even have the chance to finish mocking the nickname his brother gave me before Lucciano lunges toward him with a fist that is balled and ready.

The hit is loud. I suck in air in shock, and I watch as Enzo’s face shakes with the strength of his brother, yet he turns back with a laugh as he holds his chin.

“I can’t remember the last time you hit me.” He chuckles.

“Put the money away before I beat the shit out of you,” Lucciano says. “You flash money at her again for her pussy, and I swear to god.”

My heart actually warms at how he defends me, and that’s when I know I’m positively fucked up beyond repair.

“Oh Brother, it seems like maybe you care about destiny after all.” He sings the words, and for a moment, I can see them as bickering children so clearly.

Lucciano doesn’t respond to the taunt. “No one is going to hurt you, Marcella. You don’t need to show anyone any part of you that you don’t want to, and despite my brother having a fucked-up idea of things, this will all work out okay for you. I promise.”

For some stupid fucking reason, I think I believe him .

“How about this for a bet?” Enzo offers. “If your pussy isn’t wet right now, we’ll take you back to the theater and leave you alone, for good.”

“No,” I say immediately, and his eyes flash wickedly.

“Because you’re wet, Marcella.”

God, he’s right. What the hell is wrong with me?