Page 14 of Beautiful Villain
So I braided my hair.
It was mindless.Familiar.Over.Under.Tighten.Repeat.By the time I finished, my breathing had evened out.I didn’t look better—but I lookedfunctional.
That would have to do.
I sat on the edge of the bed.
I still didn’t think to run.
Instead, I wondered what happened next—and that scared me more than panic ever had.
Eventually, curiosity won.
I stepped into the hallway, half-expecting armed guards or someone clearing their throat ominously.Instead, I found nothing.Just quiet.Expensive, deliberate quiet.
My body protested the moment I decided to move, sharp and insistent, as if to remind me that the pain wasn’t imaginary.Still, the doctor had checked me thoroughly—no breaks, no fractures.Just swelling and bruising.He’d even told me I should walk around gently, to keep my body from getting stiff.
The house revealed itself slowly—stone floors cool under my bare feet, ceilings too high, windows too large.No clutter.No photos.No warmth.A place designed for power, not living.
I wandered past rooms meant for negotiations, not memories.Past a dining table long enough to seat a small army.
No one stopped me.
That felt… significant.
Then I heard laughter.
Male voices, easy and unguarded.The sound startled me more than silence ever could.It felt wrong in a place like this.Like danger had taken the afternoon off.
Then came the sharpslapof cards hitting wood.
Naturally, I followed it.
The room opened into a den—low ceiling, leather chairs, a battered table marked by years of use.Four men sat around it, sleeves rolled up, cigarettes abandoned in an ashtray, cards spread like this was the most normal thing in the world.
They all looked up at once.
I froze.
They stared.
“Well,” one of them said slowly.“You’re awake.”
“Devastatingly observant,” I replied.
Three of them snorted.One choked on his drink.
“I got lost,” I added.“Which is impressive, since I wasn’t trying to go anywhere.”
“You’re in Gianni’s house,” the youngest said eagerly.
Gianni.Ah.
“That explains the decor,” I said.“Very controlled minimalist with murderous undertones.”
That earned a proper laugh.
“Careful,” a dark-haired man warned.“You’re talking about the boss.”
