L'Angelo della Morte | A Mafia Romance

♛25 ⥄ ❝ Mascherata ❞

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Do not try me, Devil, Devil — cannot buy me, Devil, Devil.

~ MILCK

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The house was more alive than ever. Everyone – Mia, Dante, Colby, Vittorio, and even Vincenzo was fast at work. Mia was trying on several dress-and-shoe combinations, Vince was trying to get a response from his wife as to which color his tie should be, and Vittorio was attempting to whip his friends into motion.

I sat by the kitchen island and jumped whenever someone stormed through the doors to ask my opinion on their dress, tie, shoes, hair, or even their choice of jewelry.

Apparently, mafia men took forever to pick their suits. I – however – had a dress picked out in advance, and my only stress was caused by the event itself. I stared at the beautifully detailed mask on the counter in front of me. Vittorio had gifted it to me almost as soon as I woke up. He'd been standing in front of my mirror – styling his hair – in nothing but a low-hanging towel.

The mask was black with silver details. It was embedded with tiny pearls around the edge and it became clear that Romeo had let him in on the basics of the dress I'd be wearing.

"How's this?"

My attention snapped to Mia; she was standing in the doorway, dressed in a long, emerald green dress with a thin golden belt and matching shoes. Her wild hair was braided flush against her scalp, back and away from her face. She wore a neutral lip color with bold eye makeup.

"You look stunning," I smiled. "It's a beautiful color on you."

Mia returned my smile with a bright one of her own – skimmed her hands down the front of the dress and gave it a satisfied nod.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready?" Her smile was soft – only outdone by her voice. "We'll be leaving in just an hour."

I glanced down at the fluffy bathrobe that was about four sizes too big on me and raised a brow. "This not fancy enough?"

Mia grinned – her dark doe eyes drifting to the curlers in my hair. "Oh no, I think it's perfect."

I smiled sheepishly, but slid off the chair and waltzed out of the kitchen, headed for my room. My legs were heavy, my feet dragging against the floor.

I kept my makeup light, focusing the attention on my lips – the mask would cover the eyes anyway – and slipped the glamorous dress on. It fit me perfectly. I let my hair down in soft curls and finished the look with the breathtaking necklace Vittorio had gifted me.

I put on my shoes, grabbed a small clutch containing my lipstick, a small bottle of perfume, and the phone Romeo had slipped me, and left.

The trek downstairs was slower, my heels clicking delicately against the stairs. As soon as I set foot inside the kitchen, Vittorio caught my eye; his black, three-piece suit was paired with a deep red dress shirt, and he'd decided against wearing a tie.

He lifted his head – a few strands falling over his forehead – and smiled. "You look gorgeous, tesorina," he smiled and approached, "as always."

I suppressed a smile and looked down when his lips pressed to my temple. His dark eyes caught mine and he presented me with my mask.

"Where are the others?" I asked.