the neighbourhood - everybody's watching me
𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina
"It's all gonna be so perfect."
I have the strongest desire to gag as the woman sighs dreamily and claps her hands together. "A May wedding in the Hamptons, what girl wouldn't want that?"
The question is rhetorical, but my glare speaks volumes.
Me.
I don't fucking want that.
But Pissy seems too lost, vicariously living her dream through me to care.
She shoves a white flower into my hair, and examines it.
I yank it out and crush it in my fist.
In all honestly, my bitchness was never this excessive. I was usually subtle, diabolical and far too evil to resort to snobby. But I'd been woken up at the ass crack of dawn - nine a.m - by a dying hyena like voice and didn't have the time to calibrate my brain.
It would seem as though Adrik Kozlov - the man who refused to have anyone in his wing of the manor - had made an exception for Missy Mae Whatever The Fuck. And I was sure it was with the sole purpose of torturing me.
"Although it is a bit odd having to plan a wedding on such short notice." She ignores me like my antics aren't new to her and picks a pink flower, holding it a distance from my face and studying it. "I mean-nine weeks is barely enough time to plan a birthday party let alone a proper high society wedding."
Nine weeks?
I narrow my eyes. The wedding was in three weeks time, and we'd only made the arrangement just over a week ago. Meaning that Adrik Kozlov was five steps ahead in a game I hadn't even started.
She turns to her notebook move onto the next task of the day, while I'm stuck processing her words. "Wait a second, Pissy."
"Missy." She corrects.
I choose to ignore her.
"What exactly do you mean by high society?" This
marriage was to convince Silvio, not New York's most influential. But perhaps I'd been too narrow minded in my rage to see that for Adrik Kozlov it could be different.
"A high profile wedding like this has a highly exclusive guest list." She continues as though she's explaining basic arithmetic to a child. No shit. "News spreads fast here. All of Manhattan's already talking about this wedding."
I grit my teeth. If this isn't confirmation I'm steps behind, than I don't know what is.
"In all honestly it's a bit nerve racking for me." She sighs, continuing on with her monologue. "All the ladies at La Haute have got eyes on this, if I screw this up...."
I block out the rest of what she's saying and instead watch after the woman in a pink pantsuit parading around the kitchen, and realise she talks, a lot.
And the mention of the La Haute - a society of upper class women, bored to death with their lives and desperate for the validation that came with being apart of an exclusive clique, tells me she likes to gossip, a lot.
I'd need to be careful around her.
"...The last time I did a royal wedding, It was for the British Royal Family, but even then I had months to plan-"
"Royal wedding?" I snort, cutting her off.
There was nothing royal about an arranged marriage between a mob boss and an exceptionally beautiful Egyptian. And I bet if she knew, she'd have a pretty little meltdown.
One I was desperate to see.
I lean against the island and tilt my head at her. "Do you know who Adrik Kozlov really is?"
Pausing, the middle aged woman blinks at me blankly. "He's Russian royalty, everyone around here knows it."
"Russian royalty?" I bark out a laugh that startles her enough to make her cringe.
A mob boss, the head of the Russian bratva?
Royalty my ass.
"Sweet, sweet, Pissy." Straightening out, I slowly make my way towards her in a way that seems to make her slightly alarmed. Good. "The only Royal thing about Adrik Kozlov is his ability to fool simple minded individuals like yourself that he's anything but a cold blooded-"
"Mr. Kozlov!" Her eyes move over my shoulder and her face lights up. "What a pleasant surprise it is to see you on this fine afternoon."
And that high that slowly builds at eliciting fear slowly creeps down into disappointment as his gaze burns the back of my head.
He doesn't say anything, nor does he make his presence outwardly known.
He doesn't have to.
Turning, I face the royal pain in my ass while Missy scurries about, nervously behind me.
He looks much like he always does.
Clean, put together, perfect.
His dark hair tamed, his eyes perceptively sharp, and even when his features are relaxed into a blank look, his face is chiselled.
Adorned in his signature suit, without a wrinkle or spec out of place, he stands in the large space that is the living room, his presence swallowing all the attention from around him.
I had yet to see this man in anything but a suit, and for a moment, my dirty mind wanders to what he'd look like without it.
Worship worthy I'd imagine. But his physically attractive glory would all go to shit the moment he'd open his mouth.
I hadn't seen much of him last night, nor had I particularly sought him out after he'd left me with Sitto. I'd slept in the guest room with her, leaving him alone to his room in an act of silent gratitude.
He doesn't look all the grateful, though. Not as he stares me down, a stare that to everyone around us looks indecipherable. But I know that he's displeased with me.
"We were just about to do some cake tasting," I hear her open the fridge behind me, "But don't worry, I won't bother you with any of that."
I tilt my head and smile at Adrik. "Won't you join us, Addie?" Hearing Missy Mae's intake a heavy breath.
He gives an even, curt response. "No."
I don't give up. "But I've missed you all morning." I pout, slowly approach him, blinking up at him. "Haven't you missed me, your fiancé?"
He narrows his eyes slightly, as though he know what I'm trying to do.
But he knew just as much as I did, that Missy Mae couldn't keep her mouth shut and if he was trying to keep up our facade for New York's elite, he couldn't afford to fuck it up.
I get my confirmation when he sends a fleeting glance over my shoulder. "Make it quick."
Now, the question is why. Why does Adrik Kozlov, head of the Bratva need the approval of people on the opposite side of the pond.
I store it for later and instead, smile.
"As per your request for the wedding to remain simple, I decided to stick to the classics." Turning to the island, I watch as Missy takes out a tray of assorted cake slices and sets them down before us.
Adrik doesn't bother tasting the cakes while I simply stare down at the options. Noticing my lack of willingness to reach for the fork, Missy looks at me. "What are you waiting for?"
Innocently as ever, I turn to my fiancé. "Aren't you going to feed me?" He stills and when his eyes snap to mine, I blink at him. "It'll be so romantic."
Tension coats his features as he examines me, and after a long tense moment of silence, he picks up the fork, cuts a piece of cake and brings it to my mouth.
He looks complicit but I know that the humiliation alone must be killing him inside.
I enjoy every second of it.
Without taking my eyes off his, I part my lips just enough for him to slide the fork into my mouth, the sweet taste of vanilla hits my tongue as I close my lips around his fork.
Adrik doesn't take his eyes off mine, and it's only when he pulls the fork out of my mouth do his eyes flicker down to the corner of my lips.
With my own finger, I swipe the bit of cream from the corner of my lips and hold it up to him. "You want another taste?" I'm soft spoken while my eyes scream mischief.
His face flashes with an ounce of recognition, my meaning clear for his understanding, because he practically shoves the next piece of cake into my mouth, so fast and hard that I almost choke on it.
"The last time I had a taste," he begins, voice steady and deep. "I washed my mouth out with bleach."
Despite that all, the chocolate cake melts right into my mouth, deep, rich and velvety. I hum in satisfaction, while a knowing smile plays on my lips.
I lick the left over icing from my finger and tilt my head at the man who'd just involuntarily admitted to something he didn't want to. "Then why'd you taste it in the first place?"
I got him there.
"Have we come to a final decision?" Neither of us turn our heads to acknowledge the wedding planner.
But we do both speak simultaneously. "Yes."
Finally I wretch my gaze from his and turn Missy to voice my choice. "Chocolate." Only my voice is in tune with my fiancé who speaks at the same time."Vanilla."
Missy Mae Whatever The Fuck stares between the two of us, no doubt beginning to see into our incompatibility.
"Don't mind him," I laugh, "He has this thing where his mouth only spews the wrong thing."
"And she has this thing where that mouth of hers is only good for one thing." Stepping up right next to me, Adrik faces Missy and speaks with a seriousness I'd laugh at had his words not taken me aback.
Missy Mae has a full on coughing fit, "Dear almighty lord," She laughs uncomfortably, "I hope you mean that she's got a good singing voice."
Turning his head to look at me, Adrik speaks. "Only when she screams."
"O-okay. Well you two seem to have some discussing to do, so I'll leave you to it." Laughing nervously, she begins to clean up the plates and shove the rest of the cakes into the fridge. "The gardens all set for the party and guests should be rolling in soon." She then looks towards me, and sets a garment bag on the island. "I've got your dress for tonight picked out..."
I block out the rest of what she's saying and I know Adrik's doing the same when he turns to look at me.
She leaves soon after, and just when she does, I speak. "Why her?"
He doesn't bother to play ignorant. He merely flickers his eyes across my face before settling on something I believe to be a half truth. "You'll need her to get into La Haute Society."
Now, I'm certain he's got an ulterior motive, I just have no way of figuring out what the fuck he's got planned.
Knowing better than to trust him, I narrow my eyes. "Why?"
He must catch on to the fact that I'm onto him because he levels me with a similar look. Only his is garded, behind a fence of secrets. "Because Sabrina Ademaro's biggest goal in life is to be this years La Haute star debutant."
Her biggest goal in life was to become.... A debutant?
How sad.
That catches me completely off guard. So off guard that I put my previous suspicions on hold. "Silvio wouldn't allow that." The Italian mafia didn't mix into high society and a striving debutant for one of Americas most exclusive and famous high society clubs was far too into the spotlight for him.
"It's all she ever talks about. I suppose it shows just how far his love for his daughter goes." He speaks. "Putting his own beliefs aside for her happiness."
Once again he rubs salt on my wounds with nothing but a few words. I can't tell if it's purposeful or not but I refuse to let him see how it's affecting me.
But it does, more than I'd like to admit because once upon a time, I wanted that and was refused.
I was eighteen, I played into that bullshit that was La Haute and had my sights on they're annual cotillion. It was nothing but an innocent dance, and I'd scored myself an invite by being the governors son's plus one, only for my -then- papà to forbid me from going.
I threw a fit, hospitalised two of his men, and even threatened to kill his right hand man. Yet he still refused.
But she got his approval?
God, I hate her.
"And you'd know it's all she ever talks about, how?" I grit.
Adrik raises a single brow at me, as though he can see right through my entire act. "Does it matter?"
My eyes snap to him and my voice sharpens. "It does when she looks at you like you're the only man she's ever loved."
That comes out completely wrong, I didn't give a fuck what he felt for her, but I'm far too riled up to care.
"Careful, Ademaro." He draws, before making his way towards me, only stopping when he's a few feet from me. Satisfaction fills his face when he flickers his eyes across my face. "You seem a little jealous."
I look him dead in the eye and send him a blank look, before turning and moving towards the fridge. "I don't give two shits about you."
I open the fridge, look inside at the pathetic assortment of food and slam the door shut angrily, pausing when he appears when I close the door.
"Then I won't give you an answer." His face tells me he's enjoying this. "Unless it really matters to you?"
"I-" one step is all I take to eliminate the distance between us. "Don't-" lifting myself up on my tippy toes, I get right into his face. "Care."
"Oh yeah?" He murmurs and with one single step, hes walked me back into the fridge, while he stands dominating over me.
Tension creeps into the sliver of space between us and while we don't touch, I feel like I'm on fire with how close he is.
How close he always is.
I hate it.
I make a move to leave, but he stops me when he places a hand on the fridge next to my head. "I never thought I'd like to see you as anything aside from dead." He speaks, while I refuse to look at him and give him more satisfaction than he's already getting. "But I'm beginning to enjoy you jealous."
Placing my hands on his firm chest, I give him a shove. "I'm not jealous."
He doesn't move, but instead brings his hand up and ever so lightly flicks a strand of my hair out of my face, his fingers barely brushing my face.
"Tonight should be fun." He hums and nods behind him, while keeping his eye trained on me. "Go get dressed, d'yavolenok."
His command, soft yet firm irks me. I take one look at the clear garment bag behind him.
The white dress is classy, prim, proper.
I bet he'd picked it out for me.
I walk right by it without sparing him another glance.
I had something better in mind.
. . .
I'm not much of a party person.
That's a lie.
I love a good party.
Free drinks, food, and people important enough to gather dirt on.
It was the most enjoyable aspect of my university experience.
It helped that I was always with the right crowd. The ones popular enough to remain at the centre of the spotlight, the ones superior enough to get anything and anyone they wanted. While I remained the one people brushed aside to get a better look at my friends.
And those friends? They loved me because I was different. A word used to sugar coat what they actually meant. That being "poor" made me interesting to them.
I preferred it this way, I got to be in the spotlight, without being in the spotlight.
I got to climb my way up to where I wanted to be, yet remain a mystery, one no one cared enough to crack.
Tonight, as I look into the garden, I know that's all going to change.
I'd be the sole focus of everyone's eye. Put on a pedestal to be picked apart and examined by people far too rich to have anything to do other than gossip.
And in a black skin tight, off the shoulder gown, with an emerald pendant resting right above my exposed cleavage, they would talk.
But, I'd made my decision and as I make my way into the garden, am forced to live with it.
Immediately I feel their eyes, murmurs and gasps.
It makes me slightly uncomfortable, something I hadnt felt in a while yet I ignore it all until my eyes seek out his frame, standing across the pavilion, with his back to me.
He's not hard to miss. Tall, dark hair and broad mud laid shoulders. His frame naturally drew one's attention.
I approach, eyeing the people around him to see that he's speaking to none other than the president.
I suspect the president is playing a part in his alternate agenda. I just don't exactly know how, yet.
And before I can eavesdrop on what they're saying, everyone around Adrik quiets down and looks at me, prompting my fiancé to turn and bring his attention to little old me.
His trails off to an end on what he'd begun to say and instead, drags his gaze down my form, the only reaction I get being the slight tightening of his features.
He doesn't like.
Immediately, he steps towards me and before I can even start up a conversation, hes cutting it short. "Excuse us."
He doesn't look behind him to the president and his group of important looking men, he's too focused on me as he slips a hand on the small of my back like it's normal and leads me away. Only speaking in my ear when we're out of ear shot. "What are you wearing."
"A dress." I respond lightly.
His hand resting at the small of my back flexes and he dips his head to whisper in my ear. "What bride wears black to her engagement party?"
I turn to face him, putting our faces inches apart. I send a patronising smile. "A bride that's being forced to marry a man she wants dead. Besides, this dress is much more my style."
"Your tits are out." His voice is rougher than before, as though it bothers him more than he lets on and I can't help but bite down on my lip.
Tits. Was I rubbing off on him?
"So?" I raise a brow. "They look good."
Agitated, the man seems lost for words, searching for an insult, until he has one. "You look trashy."
His words amplify the slight insecurity I feel with everyone's eyes on me. So much so that my smile drops. "You really have such a way with words, you dick."
I brush off his touch, and when the attention around me gets too much, I make a move towards the doors that lead inside, prepared to ditch the entire party, only to be stopped by the last people I want to see.
"Celina."
Silvio stands, his daughter by his side while I sense Adrik approaching us, not because I'm hyper aware of him, but because Sabrina's longing stare moves to my left, where he is I presume.
"Silvio." I greet, overly fake. A look of hurt flickers across his face, filling me with satisfaction. "Where's Matteo? Was he was too embarrassed to show his face after getting his ass handed to him by little old me?"
"That... that was you?" Comes the soft voice of the sweet little Ademaro.
I smile at her, the fake smile turning bitter. "Impressive, isn't it?"
"It's cruel and so wrong." Her brows pinch together, as she looks at me like I'm nothing but a monster, below her, while she sits up there like a fucking saint. "How could you?"
"Sabrina." It's the man I once called papà who reprimands her.
I ignore him and set my sights on her. "Up until now you thought Adrik beat the shit out of your brother." I take a step towards her, not buying into her bull shit. "Yet you still stood there with hearts in your eyes towards my fiancé." Her eyes flicker to the ground in what I assume is shame. "Don't act like you're any better than I am."
She doesn't respond, she just turns to Silvio. "Papà are you really going to let her speak to me like that?" Her voice quivers like the sheltered girl she is, looking to a man who's done nothing but protect her from the cruel world around her.
Like a father who cares for his daughter, Silvio's face softens as he looks at her. It softens like he's going to follow through and once again, prove that in this cruel world, he'd have her back.
I didn't have that.
A nasty, vile part of me craves to tear them apart. Something I vow to do.
"Yeah, papà," I mock, spitting the word papà with so much venom it's practically an insult. "Are you going to let her speak to me like that?"
My tone is to mock hers, and without another word, the sweet Ademaro storms off, sniffling.
Pathetic.
Silvio stares after her, conflict clear on his face as he tries to fight his instincts to run after her.
He sighs and shakes his head at me, "Was that really necessary?"
Yes.
But I don't entertain him. I merely stare him down, anger trickling up my veins at how he's looking at me.
He looked at her like she was his saint and looked at me like I was the devil.
I'm not surprised he's taking her side. After all, he wasn't a dead beat with her.
Despite that knowledge, it doesn't make it any easier to process.
It just hurts more. Especially when he decides after a moment of hesitation to follow after her. "I'm coming back to find you, Celina. This isn't over."
Yes, it was over.
He'd just made his decision clear.
She came first.
Turning to my fiancé, I try my hardest to contain the anger in my voice, but end up with pure bitterness. "She's clearly in love with you. Why don't you marry her?"
He raises a brow at me, like the news isn't all that surprising to him. "If something's bothering you." He tilts his head, voice almost a taunt. "Just ask."
Our earlier conversation flashes in my mind. He still thinks I'm jealous.
I'm not.
And asking would imply I gave a fuck about him. About her.
I didn't.
Yet as I move my gaze to stare after Silvio and his daughter, all I can seem to do is care.
Care that she got to live a life I didn't.
Care that she got to have a father that I didn't.
Care that she was the first choice.
Care that she was slowly inserting herself in every aspect of my life, so much so that she wanted my fiancé.
Something lodges itself in my throat and I know that I'm moments from a melt down. One far too imbarassing to have before the eyes of a man who preyed on my downfall.
I storm past Adrik, into the manor and burst into the first room that I find empty.
It's the butlers kitchen, a small room, lined with stacked plates and cutlery. I find myself pacing the room, fighting the urge to break down when all I want to do is scream, hit something, kill her.
But I can't, and it begins to drive me mad.
So mad I yank a plate of the shelf and throw it across the room, watching the glass shatter into little pieces. Destroyed, beyond repair.
I grab another plate and do the same. And then another, and another.
Watching the floors as they fill with little shards of pointed edges, sharp enough to draw blood yet so small it can't do any real damage.
A frustrated cry escapes my lips and I can't stop breaking the once perfect plates, so lost in my own world to hear the deep voice speaking to me.
It isn't until strong arms snake around me from behind, pulling me from the room, and holding me back a strong chest that I tune into my surroundings.
I fight the hold. "Let go of me."
He does't, I continue to fight, until he doesn't budge.
"Stop." He breaths harshly from behind, into my ear and it's then I slowly start to loose my will to fight until I'm nothing but a heavy breathing mess, tired with nothing to do but slump back into the strong firm chest holding me.
Adrik doesn't say anything to me, doesn't push me away and in a moment of extreme vulnerability, I give into his previous ask.
"What does she have that I don't?" It's a question asked in a low tone and for some unknown reason, I find myself holding back tear.
It's pathetic and disgusting.
I wait for him to say what everyone's thinking.
She's kind, she's good, she's innocent.
I'm not.
But he takes me by surprise, when he responds a moment later. "Nothing." He says, and for the first time his words feel genuine.
A single tear runs down my cheek. Luckily, he can't see it.
And after it dries, I begin to calm down, slumping back into his chest and turning my head to face him. "That's probably the nicest thing you've ever said to me."
He looks down at my lips, then back up to my face. "If you try to kiss me because of it, I'll slit your throat right here." He murmurs, his voice low, a complete contrast to his words.
I crack a smile, "You're too full of yourself."
He stares at my smile, "And you're too much of a pain."
Rolling my eyes, he lets go of me completely and steps back. His hand makes its way to the small of my back, and with a slight nudge, he leads me back towards the garden.
We don't speak, but I don't feel as shitty. That is until we make it to the door that leads outside and see Silvio standing there as though he's waiting for me.
His face softens and he steps towards me. "Celina-"
My faux fiancé steps in front of me, his large build blocking my view of Silvio, something I'm grateful for. "Why are you still here?"
"To talk to my daughter-" He starts, only to be cut off by an echoing voice that comes from behind us all.
"Lina!"
I stop dead in my tracks, my entire body tenses as dread slowly courses through my veins as I slowly turn around to look at the girl barrelling towards me.
"Oh my God, I knew it was you." She pulls me into a hug and I can't help but stand there, shocked as the girl I'd convinced I was her best friend squeezes the life out of me. "I was so worried. One minute you're telling me to take a spa weekend to take my mind off things and the next you're not answering any of my texts or calls."
Hana. My friend from University.
She wasn't suppose to be here. "What are you doing here?"
"The photos." Haha frowns at me. "We've all seen them. I can't believe you're engaged and didn't tell anyone-"
The rest of her words blur in my mind as my mind begins to race.
These worlds didn't mix.
This wasn't good.
"Are you alone?" I ask, suddenly.
"No, I came with-"
"Lina."
Shit. Fuck. Shit.
I feel everyone's attention move at the sound of the masculine voice. And when I get a glimpse of the brown haired figure walking towards me, his eyes solely focused on me and only me, I groan inwardly.
Really?
Hadn't karma had enough of torturing me?
"Seb?" I breathe.
He makes it to me and the moment he does, he grabs my shoulders and crushes me to his chest. "I was so worried, babe."
Behind me, Adrik remains irreely quiet. So quiet, I know this won't end well. Not for me, Seb or anyone here to witness this.
Until finally, he speaks, in a carefully controlled tone. "Who are you?"
Seb pulls away from me and looks behind me to get s good look at the man who could crush him with a single glance.
Yet despite that, Seb answers. "Her boyfriend." No doubtedly threatened, he puffs out his chest and meets Adrik's gaze. "Who are you?"
A hand makes its way onto my hip from behind and with a nudge, Adrik moves to me the side, out of Sebs hold while he steps forward.
I turn to watch him, his features are tightened as he stares down Seb, the look on his face one I had yet to witness and can't put a name to.
"Her fiancé."
His voice is much louder and stronger than Sebs, creating a blanket of tension that filters through the room.
I look from Hana to Silvio, to Seb and finally, to Adrik.
Ah shit.
𓆩❤︎𓆪
DRAMAAAAA
SORRY I HAD TO LEAVE YALL ON A CLIFF HANGER plz don't hate me
-
Y'all my best friend went on a trip and she was telling me that every time she went out to a restaurant, random men would pay for her meals / send her drinks/desserts to her table.
And she never said a word to these men.
Honestly tho I'm not shocked, she's hella pretty. Like an Arab Alyssa Violet mixed w/ Kim K who in all honestly is doing immense charity work by giving the 2/10 men in our hometown chances with her....
Also if watching her has taught me anything, it's that it's always the ugliest mf's that think have the audacity to treat pretty girls the way they do🙄
Btw I'm not this superficial, I promise. I'm just a man hater. 😔