When a drunken night out leads to Rose Delacour meeting the mysterious American Mafia Boss, Clecentine Huxley, she can't help but give in to her beauty and charms.
Young and carefree Rose Delacour didn't expect her night out at the bar to result in...
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Cautiously walking on the marble with my naked feet I continued on my noiseless walk towards Clecentine who sat on the couch, surprisingly calm for a woman who just popped a man's eye out of his socket.
Then again, her calm fury is deadlier than her raging one.
I walked and stopped exactly five steps away from her, the realization of holding a conversation with her just hitting me.
What was I gonna say when I approach her? Hey, I just saw you stab someone's eye. Nah, not gonna work.
My mind changed. I decided to walk away. This was clearly not the right decision or time. But perhaps luck wasn't on my side. It really wasn't.
''Rose.''
Well, shit!
Pressing my lips together in a thin line I braced myself and turned around so rigidly I wondered how I even managed to turn around in the first place.
Her back was still facing me, but the change in her posture from a slightly relaxed one to a straighter, more formal one made me realise that she was sure of my presence.
''Yes, madam.'' I answered, walking around the couch, coming face to face with her.
Clecentine wore a plain white shirt with a black coat and trousers and stilettos of matching colour. Her coat was unbuttoned and so were the first two buttons of her white shirt, leaving her collarbone to be feasted on by my eyes. Women in suits were my weakness, but seeing her in a suit was by far my greatest weakness.
She still held the dagger in her fingers, playing with its pointed end, twirling it between her fingers like an expert until she let it vertically stand on the table, rotating it with just her forefinger on the tip of its handle. But this time it was clear of any traces of blood.
Clearing my throat I attempted to start a conversation, ''Madam, you seem,'' I trailed off, not knowing what to say, ''Stressed, I guess?''
Barely sparing me a glance she spoke up, ''I'm not. Even if I was you don't need to worry.''
''Um, yes. You're okay, right?'' I asked wanting to get even the slightest hint, the slightest change in her voice or posture to figure out if she knew about my little visit to her 'red room.'
Getting up from the couch she swiftly and casually tossed the knife into her hand and tucked it into her belt with a very deadly yet lady-like elegance. Taking two strides she stood in front of me, towering over my slightly shorter body.
Casually putting her hands in the pocket of her trouser she leaned her face forward, ''Don't meddle with my personal matter, love. I am very well and handling things quite well. Thank you for asking.''
Giving me a lopsided, mocking smirk she walked away.
Every inch of her body screamed casual confidence. Guess that's what the thing about her is. Her casual confidence got half the things done for her. Everyone was intimidated by it; she could do anything to anyone and was confident about it.
