THE UNDYING | TWILIGHT

14. Acting Out

The city was alive, and Dahlia could feel its energy radiating through her entire being. It was an intoxicating rush, one that she never wanted to stop. For the first time in her life, Dahlia felt like she truly belonged. In fact, if you were visiting Volterra on that particular night, you wouldn't have been able to recognize her in the crowd. She looked just like everyone else, like a glamorous tourist spending a night in the city. The locals certainly mistook her for one, asking, "Is this your first time in Volterra?" They spoke to her slowly, like they didn't think she understood the language, and they were always impressed by her fluency. Perhaps she was a university student studying in Italy, they thought, or the daughter of some wealthy businessman. They would have been most surprised to learn that she didn't have a penny to her name and not even a year of formal education.

Dahlia liked the attention she received, especially from the Italian men. Some stood on the street corners, offering flowers to pretty young women. It was a ploy, of course, an easy way of drawing in business for the local restaurants, but the women either failed to notice or simply didn't care. And who could blame them? If a handsome man was offering them flowers, doting on them, and then asking them to dinner, how could they resist? For one night, a woman could be treated like a queen, and it would only cost her a few thousand euros. For many, it was well worth the price.

"A rose as beautiful as you," said one man as he offered a pink rose to Dahlia, which she timidly accepted.

"Thank you," she said, her cheeks turning as pink as the flower.

"Would you like to come inside for a drink?" he asked.

"I'm sorry, but I can't. I have somewhere to be."

"Oh, I can feel my heart breaking already!" cried the man as he clutched his chest. "The night is young. Surely you have time for one drink."

Dahlia considered his request. "I suppose I do. Just one drink."

"You are an angel!" replied the man, and then he offered her his arm and led her into the restaurant.

Like a gentleman, he helped her with her coat once they arrived at the bar, and he showered her with compliments like no man ever had before. Of course, that was after she had ordered her drink, which contained one of the top shelf spirits, as he so deftly persuaded.

"Is this your first time visiting Volterra?" he asked, speaking in a low, intimate voice that forced Dahlia to lean into him.

"I live here, actually."

"What luck I have! Surely, you must have just recently moved here, as I would remember seeing someone so beautiful walking around the city."

Dahlia smiled bashfully and shook her head. "I have lived here for a while."

"Then you must be an enchantress, being able to hide yourself so well. You certainly have enchanted me this evening."

"Oh, you are too much!" she replied, concealing her smile with her hand. "But I must go now, I'm sorry to say."

"So our blissful evening has at last come to an end. Very well, beautiful girl, I shall see you out. But do promise that you will return, for I would very much like to see your face again."

"I'll try."

As promised, the handsome gentleman escorted her out of the restaurant, kissed her cheeks, and then bid her farewell. Once Dahlia was a fair distance away, he turned his affections to the next woman who caught his eye.

"A rose as beautiful as you," he said, offering the young tourist a pink rose. "Would you like to come inside for a drink?"

Down the street, still beaming from her unexpected rendezvous, Dahlia was just blocks away from her old neighborhood. Why, after years of trying to get out, was Dahlia returning to the Gutter? She was looking for Émile, of course. She had to find him and show him how nice she looked and take him to her fancy new apartment. He would have been very impressed, she knew, and he would want to stay with her. In fact, he would have no reason to ever leave her again.