Shadows In Durango

Chapter 140

*****Sofia's POV*****

Vincent led me down the hall, his hand warm and firm around mine, his grip tight enough to make me think that he was desperately stopping himself from storming back to Sergio and throttling the man...

We stepped into the spare bedroom, and he closed the door behind us with a sharp click. The tension in the air between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. His jaw was clenched, and his usually soft eyes were burning with anger. "I'm sorry," he muttered, running a hand through his hair as he paced the small room. "That guy is an absolute" He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. "I didn't know he'd be like that. If I'd have known, I wouldn't have let him within a mile of you. He's a rude fucking asshole!"

"It's okay," I said quickly, even though it really wasn't. My pulse was still racing, and my skin felt like it was crawling from the way Sergio had poked and prodded at me. "I can handle it. It's only for tomorrow, right? This has to work with his help, so let's just give him a chance at least?"

Vincent stopped pacing and turned to look at me, his expression softening just a fraction at my reasoning. "You shouldn't have to handle it, Sofia, none of this is good for you - I feel fucking terrible about it. This is already enough without some guy making you feel like a fucking art display..." He trailed off, his fists clenching up again.

I gave him a small smile, trying to ease the tension. "I'm fine, Vincent, honest. I promise that it's all ok. Let's just get this over with, I'm brave enough for this."

His gaze lingered on me for just a moment longer before he nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But if he tries to demand anything else that I feel crosses the line anything at all—then he's out of here. I don't care how good he supposedly is at his job."

"Yeah, deal," I said softly, even though I wasn't entirely convinced that Sergio wouldn't find a way to push Vincent's buttons again since he was more than unbothered by him.

Vincent grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top from a dresser and handed them to me. "Change into these," he said, his voice still tight. "I'll step outside for a minute."

I nodded, watching as he walked out of the room and shut the door behind him. For a moment, I just stood there, holding the clothes and staring at the door. The reality of what was about to happen hit me again, and a shiver ran down my spine.

Tomorrow wasn't just another day it was thee day.

Shaking off my nerves, I quickly changed into the tank top and shorts, the fabric hanging off of my body loosely. The thin material left more skin exposed than I was comfortable with, but I told myself that it was better than having to strip down to my undies in front of everyone...

was only another crucial step

wall, arms crossed, his jaw still set in a hard line as his eyes raked over me from head to

then..." He presses, suddenly straightening up and reaching a hand out which I take - allowing

impatience etched on his face. "Finally," he stated, drawing out the word as though we'd made him wait for hours when it had only been mere minutes. "Come, come. Let us get

the corner of the room - watching on as I wished he would have gotten bored by now, choosing to

what you need to do," he told Sergio, his voice

creased in disdain. "Now, for the main event! Put out your arm so I can test out what shades will look more realistic on you..." he asks,

centre of the room, Sergio pulled his case closer and began

small jars of liquid and powder in varying shades - it was a makeup artist's arsenal, but the purpose of these

sponge and pressing it against my skin with precision. The first touch of cold,

tone sharp as he grabbed my chin and turned my face toward the light again, I'm guessing to examine my

nod once -

didn't feel up to explaining why I had found myself trapped in my crazed ex-boyfriend's basement as he took a psychotic break... not now, not ever did I want to

pressed a thumb in to one of my bruises, earning a hiss from me as I found

feet away, took to his feet in an instance, "Watch your fucking hands, are you an idiot?!" He snaps, as my lips part

his work. "I must say," he muttered as he blended a dark purple bruise onto my cheekbone,

of dread that rose up my throat. This wasn't just makeup; it was a visual story of pain and control that we had hoped to

end of the day, this was only makeup, and the rest would be

realistic mottled bruises along my biceps and forearms. "Turn zis way," he ordered, and

silently, his hands clenched into fists

of him, but he didn't say a word, probably knowing that it would only

markings will top this off!" Sergio announced after finishing with one of my legs, stepping back briefly to admire his work

dragging lines around my neck area before seeming to dab it away with a dry cloth. Then, he grabbed a