✈︎

pili-pala (m.) butterfly

ROSABELLE

God, why do I have this bad luck?

"Cara, trust me. I've tried my best, but as I said, I had no privileged access here." My dad's voice rang from the other side, helplessness evident in his tone.

From my childhood, my siblings and I got everything, and we were accustomed to getting whatever we wanted. All I needed was to ask my dad for something, and he would be ready to move mountains for me. So, I knew he would never deny me any request unless he was truly incapable.

"I understand, papa," I sighed. "It's okay."

Dad had tried for a week to get us access to visit Vittoria's Venue through legal means, but it was to no avail. He could have found a way much sooner if he had tried his own, more illegal methods. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that any illegal activities in his hostile country would alert the Bratva to the fact that my dad had a family member staying in this country. They'd never miss the opportunity to hunt them down, which meant they'd be coming after me.

My dad would rather jump into a fire than leave me near the enemy's grasp.

"Are you sad, cara?" He asked, concern evident in his voice. To be honest, I was a little disappointed. Even Ana wanted to visit the club with me, and she told me how eager she was. Both of our wishes would now be left in vain.

Nevertheless, I reassured my dad, because I didn't want him to worry about me. "No, papa. I'm fine. Don't worry about it. I'm enjoying the other places."

Unconsciously, a happy sigh left my mouth as I remembered the places I've visited with my special companion.

"Really? Which places did you visit, cara?" I chuckled at the query. "Seriously, don't be like this, papà. You know which places I've visited. Remember, I have a tracker with me?"

"It's Rafael who keeps track of your whereabouts. I barely know anything, cara," Dad explained, letting out a quiet chuckle in return. "Oh, that's why I was wondering why I wasn't getting a call from my dad and hearing his worried voice every time I was going out."

"Wait, Rafael non ti ha chiamato, cara?"

"Nemmeno una volta, papà. Sono così triste. Mi avete dimenticato tutti."

I almost sensed dad's irritation from the other end. He was probably wondering how Rafael hadn't called even once to ask how I had been.

"E Rome?"

"He didn't call me either."

I nearly laughed at the heavy sigh that could be heard from my dad.

Rome and Rafael were goner.

I loved my brothers. But I loved getting them into trouble more.

"I'll make sure to take care of them, cara. Don't you worry," Dad said, his tone half serious and half playful. "It's okay, papa. You're enough for me."

"Did I tell you that you were my favorite?"

"Yes! A lot of times, in fact."

"Right. Let your brothers know about this."

I laughed aloud, throwing my head back in realization of the face Rafael would make if he ever heard of this.

Romario, my elder brother, mostly wouldn't care. Because he knew that he had everyone's respect in the entire de Luca dynasty. However, Rafael - that man would whine like a kid if he heard that dad declared me the favorite child of all.

Honestly to say, I knew the world wasn't black and white. Still, having such a great family in this dark part of the world felt amazing.

I always felt thankful for how much of a happy family we were. And I prayed it'd stay like this forever.

"By the way, Rosabelle," Dad's serious tone brought me back from my daze as I turned my attention to him once more. "I've heard about the new friend you've made."

My expression immediately dimmed at the solemn turn of the atmosphere.

I've never hidden anything from my dad. However, a vague sense of fear somewhat crept over me when I thought about his reaction upon learning about Emiliano. I knew I'd have to face this question someday.

But I never wished for that day to come.

Because I didn't know what to answer about him.

"Oh," I bit my lip as a thin layer of sweat coated my forehead, nerves building up inside. "I've told Nino to tell you about... him."

"What was his name again, cara?"

"Emiliano."

I didn't want to let my dad sense my anxiety. I didn't know myself why I was anxious, but I knew dad would be suspicious if he found an ounce of nervousness in my tone.

"What's his surname?"

Another beat of silence. "I don't know, papa. We haven't known each other for that long."

"I see. What do you know about him?"

God, I felt unease all over my body at the inquiries.

"All I know is he is a businessman, papa. He told me that he owned a few clubs in Moscow, nothing else," I said, hoping he'd trust my words and let the topic slide away.

Fortunately, my wish was granted when my dad was interrupted by someone else on the other end, and he stopped himself from asking any further questions.

"Cara," he said, his usual relaxed tone returning. "I'll talk to you later." I almost felt sorry for the sigh of relief that left my mouth.

Talking with my dad was never burdensome, but talking about Emiliano to him seemed like it would take years off my life.

"Okay, papa. Goodbye."

I ended the call before slumping back on the bed with a loud thump. "Shit," I let out a loud gasp when my eyes fell on the clock hanging on the wall, the relief replaced with another headache yet to come.

It's nearly time for Emi to pick me up from my villa.

We were visiting the Tretyakov Gallery today, the national treasury of Russian fine art and one of the greatest museums in the world. It was located in one of the oldest districts of Moscow, Zamoskvorechye, not far from the Kremlin.

Emi had told me that after our visit from there, he had another surprise for me. And this time, he warned me not to nag him to tell me what the surprise was.

I couldn't suppress my grin every time I was reminded of his gestures. God, just his mere thought could heat up my cheeks.

Without wasting any more time in bed, I decided to get up and make myself look pretty for the man.

✈︎

As we approached the Tretyakov Gallery in Moscow, Russia, I was immediately struck by its majestic exterior. The grand building stood as a testament to Russia's rich artistic heritage. Its architectural design blended elements of both tradition and grandeur, with ornate facades adorned with intricate details.

Massive stone columns supported the entrance, giving the gallery an air of historical significance. The rich, earthy tones of the building's exterior seemed to resonate with the country's artistic roots, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere.

The Gallery was a harmonious blend of artistic beauty and historical importance, setting the stage for the treasures that awaited within its walls.

"Emi, oh my God," I covered my mouth with my palm to stifle my screech. The man stood behind me like a wall, his gaze locked on my frame as he watched me with amusement dancing in his emerald green eyes. "You like the place, krasotka?"

"Yes!" I turned to face him with a huge smile on my face, "Thank you so much," without thinking, I reached my hands to give him a side hug, unable to hold my excitement back, only for him to freeze at my action. "I really appreciate it, Emi."

I knew I'd have been able to visit the places on my bucket list alone, but having a companion, one like him, just made my tour more enthusiastic.

A beat of silence passed between us, and I suddenly regretted my action. Feeling that Emi must have felt uncomfortable at the gesture, right when I was about to pull back, his arm rested on my back. It was a gentle action. But felt rough; his hand was rough.

It was me who stilled this time, warmth rushing through my entire body upon his mere touch.

"You're welcome, Belle," he whispered near my ear, his breath fanning my hair, and mine hitched to the sensation. "Let's get you inside, hmm?"

It seemed as if he forced himself to let go of my grasp. Realization hit me, and I felt as though I could dig a hole in the ground and disappear forever.

I knew I was blushing like a maniac right now, wishing someone could save me from this embarrassment.

I only managed to nod before making my way forward, trying to walk further away from him. He followed me from behind, a soft breathy chuckle leaving his mouth, causing me to shy away even more.

As we entered, I was met with a grandiose view that left me breathless. The interior of the Tretyakov Gallery was nothing short of exceptionally gorgeous. High vaulted ceilings with ornate chandeliers hung gracefully, casting a warm, golden glow on the exquisite artwork that adorned the walls.

The walls themselves were a work of art, showcasing a rich collection of Russian masterpieces that spanned centuries. The scent of aged wood and history hung in the air, adding to the aura of reverence that permeated the gallery.

As Emi and I strolled through the museum, each room held a new discovery, a new treasure to behold. The hushed whispers of visitors and the soft echoes of our footsteps added to the museum's serene ambiance.

Our evening was spent together in blissful harmony, the enchantment of the art still resonating within us.

✈︎

"Can you give me a hint, at least?" I pouted, impatiently shaking my legs as we sat in the car, Emi driving quietly beside me. "Thought we had a deal, Belle," he said. "You don't ask me anything about the surprise, remember?"

I let out a silent groan. "There was no deal that said I can't ask for a hint either, Emi."

"No hints. Deal closed."

"That's unfair!"

"Thanks."

I rolled my eyes, feeling both irritated and goofy at the same time. "You're no good, man." I sighed. "You're right, darlin'," he winked at me playfully.

Then I remembered something. "Emi?"

"Yes, Bella?"

"What is your surname?"

I asked without hesitation when I was reminded of my dad's words. "Curious much?" He asked in return, playfulness laced beneath his tone.

"Emi," I sent him a pleading gaze, so he wouldn't tease me anymore. He laughed afterward, shaking his head a little. "It's Nikolayev, Bella. I'm Emiliano Nikolayev."

Emiliano Nikolayev.

His name was as beautiful as him, and I was mesmerized. "Wouldn't you ask mine?" I queried, only for him to laugh again. "Should I?"

I scoffed again. But then smiled. "De Luca, Rosabelle de Luca."

He was silent for a moment, leaving me confused about what was going on in his mind. Sometimes, I wished I could read him.

Then he suddenly grasped my hand, startling me in the process. And he did something I'd never expected.

Intertwining our fingers together, he placed a gentle kiss atop the back of my hand and looked at me through his long, gorgeous lashes.

"Shikarnoye imya, kak i tai, Bella," he said.

Gorgeous name, just like you.

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TRANSLATIONS:

01. Rafael non ti ha chiamato, cara? - Hasn't Rafael called you, dear?

02. Nemmeno una volta, papà. Sono così triste. Mi avete dimenticato tutti. - Not even once, dad. I'm so sad. Y'all have forgotten me.