ALANA

13

ALANA

I am getting dressed for the gala of an Underboss. That is the second highest rank in the Mafia. I have never met one.

I have never even been to a gala. My chance to see some of the details of such a party would have been on my engagement. But I was not in the right headspace. I do not remember most of it and what I do, are moments of fearing my father.

I had been very worried about what I would be wearing, stepmother had made it clear that her husband will not be paying for a new dress that I did not need and I do not have any dresses that are gala fashion.

But, unexpectedly, a lady had shown up at the door, sent by the donna bearing my entire ensemble for tonight. And she had spent the entire day helping me do my hair and makeup and dress in the beautiful gown and shoes she had brought.

After I put on the dress and shoes, Delphine, as I had learned her name was, started finishing up my hair. She put it in a beautiful updo that made my chest pop out more than usual.

I am afraid I look too exposed but the Donna herself has sent the dress and I do not want to disrespect her by saying anything. I will just have to get used to wearing things out of my comfort zone. And I am okay with that. Besides, I do not want to anger Xander again by saying anything to his mother.

"La Donna vi aveva mandato anche questi perché li indossaste, signorina" Delphine says showing me a small box with a single lined diamond necklace.
(The Donna had also sent this for you to wear miss.)

"Oh thankyou" I say as she puts it on me.

This is the second diamond necklace that she has given me. I know that diamonds are very expensive so I do not understand why she is spending so much on me.

Delphine bids me farewell and tells me goodluck for the night before leaving.

As I finish up, the clock reads 6:50 so I know Xander will be arriving soon. I spray my perfume generously on me. This is the only nice thing I own. My cousin Antony has brought me a bottle of the same perfume ever since I was 16.

Antony lives in England. I do not see him often but he is the only person in the world that I love. He is like a brother to me, I know that if he were really my brother he would protect me from life's cruelties.

I am not allowed to have a phone or speak on the house phone with anyone so I only see him when he can visit. Father says a phone is how girls become defiant. But Katrina has one so I do not understand why I can't.

I am looking in the mirror to fix any imperfections when a maid comes in to inform me that the future Don Moretti has arrived.

I carefully walk down the stairs, thankful that no one was around and quickly step out of the doors to see Xander standing against a very sleek and astonishing car. I have never seen anything like it before.

To be fair, I have never seen any car but the SUVs my father owns.

He's adorned in an all black suit and his shirt is also black. Before today, I have never truly set my eyes upon him. He is incredibly tall and wide, much bigger than me surely. You can almost make out the shape of his muscles and the way they stretch out his clothes. His facial features are very handsome, a chiseled jaw and cheekbones with a light stuble. His eyebrows are bold but not uneven or messy like most males.

He is very handsome indeed and it is a wonder he would want to marry me. I am no where near the type to match his aura and beauty. Well it is not like he even likes me so maybe he did not care for looks. Just any woman would have done the job. After all, he did say this is not a real marriage.

I break out of my thoughts, realizing he has not noticed me as he is looking at his phone. He mustn't think I was late so I quickly start walking down the few stairs to the driveway.

This grabs his attention and he looks up, so I quickly look at the ground trying not to trip in my very tall heels.

"Fucking hell" I hear him say harshly when I reach the bottom of the stairs. I quickly look up to see him looking at me up and down, his green eyes looking dark.

"Fuck Alana you call this a dress? Your whole damn leg is out, and your-" he stops, looking at my chest.

"I- I am sorry, the Donna herself sent this dress I thought you would have approved it" I say, fear and worry lacing my voice. "It is the only one she had sent I wore it thinking I would upset you if I refused the Donna" I try to explain, forcing myself to not cry.

Men do not like women who cry. They think they are pathetic.

"Mama sent this dress? This is hardly-" he stops talking for a minute, his face looks like he is contemplating something. I can never tell what he is feeling, his face is usually the same stoic expression.