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...

crucial step in my fight

still set in a hard line as

suddenly straightening up and reaching a hand out which I take - allowing for him

look of impatience etched on his face.

the single armchair in the corner of the room - watching on as I wished he would have gotten bored by now, choosing to leave the rest of us

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

on the sofa as Vincent's features 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, although he proceeds to take a hold of my arm,

the room, Sergio pulled his case closer and

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

got to work quickly, dabbing dark pigments onto a sponge and pressing it against my skin with precision.

as he grabbed my chin and turned

He queries, as I nod once - praying that he

my crazed ex-boyfriend's basement as

a hiss

was seated just a few feet away, took to his feet in an instance, "Watch

he muttered as he blended a dark purple bruise onto my cheekbone, "you will look very convincing after this. Zey will think you have been through the wars!"

my throat. This wasn't just makeup; it was a

the day, this was only makeup, and

my arms next, applying small, but realistic mottled bruises along my biceps and forearms. "Turn zis way," he ordered, and I complied, my stomach churning with

hands clenched into fists

didn't say a word, probably knowing that it would only drag

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

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