ARIA
AS A CHILD, I ADORED THE COLOR PINK AND INCORPORATED it into every aspect of my life, from my room decor to my clothing choices. I was so enamored with it that I even dyed a few strands of my hair pink.
However, as a nineteen-year old, my love for pink has completely faded, and I now have a strong aversion to anything resembling the color. I dislike all shades of pink and avoid it altogether.
Even now, my mother Adeline forces me to wear the color during any significant event. Occasionally, I adhere to her wishes, but most of the time, I do not comply. Black was always my preferred color, and my mother disliked it intensely.
Growing up in such a household like mines, I rarely followed the rules or listened to anything these people had to say. Most of the times, I didn't really like being here but I had to because this was the only place I knew as my home.
Although we lived in a very enormous house, it was filled with a lot of people. It was accompanied my mother, father, my older twin brothers, and my Nonna. Occasionally, my cousins would stop by and stay for a few days. My parents were all about family, and how family should stick together.
My father was born to my Nonna when she was just seventeen, which wasn't planned but Nonna considered it a happy accident. Nonna grew up in a family of eight, where she was the only girl with seven brothers.
Her family struggled to make ends meet, so she made a tough decision to marry my Nonno at a young age. Despite facing many difficulties, they eventually fell in love. Unfortunately, when my Nonno died, Nonna was devastated, but behind her pain and sadness, she always kept the brightest smile on her face through it all.
The same thing happened to my mother as it did to my Nonna. She gave birth to my older twin brothers, Alessandro and Ares when she was eighteen years old and then had me when she was in her mid-twenties. The marriage between my mother and father wasn't an ideal one as it was arranged by my two grandfathers for business purposes.
My mother fell for my father immediately upon meeting him, but initially, my father didn't feel the same way. However, eventually he grew to love her more than she loved him, which is why my mother has always remained devoted to him. Despite all the difficulties he caused her, she never stopped loving him.
Not ever.
As I gaze at the TV screen, I see a woman on it. It's a classic from the 90s that my mother always loved to watch. Over time, it grew on me, and now I find myself sitting in this very spot on the couch, just like she used to, watching it countless times. Surprisingly, I never tire of it.
As my brother walks in, he asks, "How many times are you going to watch this terrible movie? I'm tired of hearing it," His abominable presence sucks the air out of the room. I shift in my seat, ignoring him. Normally, I would say something back, but my Nonna is sitting next to me in one of the armchairs, knitting as she always does. And she hated when we argued.
"Where's Ares?" Mother enters inside of the living room, and takes the free seat besides me. I continue to keep my eyes on the television, but my ears we're listening to the words spilling from their mouths. "I'm right here, mother." Ares stood behind Alessandro.
Ares was younger than Alessandro by a minute, and he hated that. I understood why he did, because he was often compared to him. Father would always compare the two, and it made them both infuriated. They were fraternal twins, but they shared most of the same features, but not the same personalities.
Alessandro was a inch shorter than Ares. Ares wore glasses, but Alessandro didn't. Ares was very wise for his age, but he was also athletic. Alessandro was also athletic, but instead of putting his talents to use he chose the lifestyle my father instilled into his mind. As a result, my father frequently compared the two of them, considering Alessandro was a typical daddy's boy who wished to follow in his father's footsteps, unlike Ares, who did not share the same wishes.
"Has your father said anything about the preparation for the ball? He knows how much I hate tardiness," mother glances at Alessandro, before she puts her full attention on the television.
Alessandro clears his throat. "I haven't heard anything, but I'm sure he's gotten everything done."
Alessandro was clearly lying. He knew how much this ball meant to mother, so he didn't want to ruin it for her, so he lied. He lied through his teeth, and I'm sure mother noticed, -but she kept quiet.
Mother always threw a party, which she liked to refer to as a ball. It was a facade to demonstrate how much we "care" about the town. The reality, however, was that my parents didn't care about the town at all. In fact, they did everything in their power to maintain control and stay on top. This was who they were, who our "family" was-or should I even call it a family? It was nothing more than a business. Everything in this family revolved around business. My father was a bad man who got away with every sin he committed. He killed people, stole from them, and destroyed countless families. Yet, we were all supposed to be okay with it.
"I'm sure father has everything sorted out by now. You don't have to worry, mother," ares throws his ass on the couch, and his weirdly large arms land on top of me. I shove him away and sigh under my breath. He throws one of his arms over my shoulder and pulls me in against his chest. "Hey, principessa."
That goddamn nickname.
Again, I remove his arm from my body. "Your not still mad at me are you?" he chuckles under his breath, once he leans more into the couch.
I wouldn't necessarily say that I had a favorite brother, but if I had to choose, it would be Ares. He and I have been best friends and two peas in a pod ever since he discovered he was going to have a little sister. While Alessandro and I got along, we weren't as close as Ares and I were. Alessandro was an entitled prick and didn't care about anyone's feelings except his own. However, I still loved him because he was my older brother and would do anything for me in a heartbeat.
"Just because I have no desire in speaking to you, doesn't mean I'm still upset. Now, if you would please move away and allow me to enjoy the television, I'll be more than happier," Ares rubbed a thumb across his lips, with the faint smirk on it. He stands on his feet and walks away.
As I was about to tune back into the television, mother grabbed the remote control and I was now staring a black screen. Nonna stood up, and dispersed up the elegant staircase that led to all of the rooms.
"We have a big day tomorrow. I need you to get some rest, so you won't be tired for your dress fitting," mother gestures me to get up, and go up to my room. Sometimes I wonder if she still thought I was eleven years old, because she often did this.
But nonetheless, I did as I was told.
"You have to suck in your stomach," Nonna muttered, but we could all hear her. Mother pulled on one of the laces once more, and finally, the corset hooks closed, making my body feel stiff.
I hated corset dresses. Actually, I hated any dress that mamma tried to put me in. And when I say "tried," I mean that I wasn't going to wear it. I always had a backup outfit for these dreadful situations. The dress was big at the bottom, and the top was a taupe corset with white specks on it. It was the ugliest thing I'd ever seen.
"You look...great," my cousin Amelia entered the room and stared at me incredulously. She knew her words meant nothing to what she actually meant, and it made me shoot her a scowl.
The petticoat had to be the worst part of the dress because every time I moved my leg, one of the sharp edges would hit my skin. Overall, the dress was terrible.
I stepped down from the spinning stool and walked over to the full-length mirror. I wouldn't say I looked terrible in it; it was just the dress that I hated. I didn't like the color or the style, and it made me look like I was from the Georgian and Regency periods in the 1700s and 1800s. Sometimes I wondered if my mother forgot that we were in the 21st century.
"You look beautiful, principessa," mother places her hand on my shoulders and smile at me through the mirror. I cast her a small smile as a way of thanking her. I didn't audibly say it because I didn't want to lie to her, because I in fact, wasn't thankful for this abominable dress.
After my fitting, all the other women in the household got their dresses and it was now less than an hour until the party started. I was glad they kept it in the manor. The ballroom was big enough to hold another house inside of it.
"Are you sure about this? You know how much these parties mean to your mother," Amelia follows behind me as I sit down at my vanity. I had just finished curling my hair, and applying a light makeup look.
"There was now way in hell, I was going to wear that dress. And plus, you know I don't follow others rules," I glance at her for a second, before getting into my black silicone body dress. It had a large opening at the back, and I paired it with the black Christian Dior heels.
"I'll be down in a few," I say. Amelia nods, and leaves shutting the door. I release a sigh through my nose and walk towards the mirror. "You are your own person, you are the best version of yourself, and you are beautiful," I whisper to myself.
I suck in a rush of air through my teeth and leave my room. I wait at the top of the elegant stair, already the light music, mixed with chatter fills my ears, -making the anxiety creep up my spine.
You are your own person, you are the best version of yourself, and you are beautiful.
I find myself at the bottom staircase, already I feel the eyes of the people hit on me once I walk inside of the ballroom. Soon, one of those peoples eyes are my mother and I could feel the anger radiating off her and it's hit my skin, -but I ignore it.
I stand beside my brother, Ares, who's currently having a laugh at our mother, because she had let out a frustrated sigh. "You look wonderful," Ares whispers inside of my ear, and I smile slightly.
"I'm not going to let this ruin my night, Dominic handle this before I have aneurysm," mother says.
I roll my eyes and turn my attention to my papa as he makes his way next to me and Ares. "Ignore your mother, you look beautiful, my principessa." Although, my father was a bad man. He was still the best papa, and I knew he loved me more than anything or anyone.
A night like this usually took the whole night, and by the hour had passed I had grown tired of my parents introducing me to other people just like them so I sat at one of the designated tables for guest. I've had at least three glasses of apple cider, because I don't drink. I didn't like alcohol, and alcohol didn't like me.
While sitting here, different men would come up to me asking for a dance, but I would always decline the offer. Not because, I didn't like to dance: I just didn't want too. I had no desire in dancing with any of these snobby men. Half of them weren't even my age, and that would be considered pedophilia.
Mother hasn't even sent a glance my way since I've stepped foot into the ballroom. She was upset with me, but I didn't really care. But, I had to act like I care because she loved when we tried to get on her good side. It was boost to her ego, the ego I hated. She was entitled, and always had an opinion. An opinion I always argued against, and most of the times I would win. And the other times, I would have to lose by default because she always played the "I'm your mother, and you have to listen to me or else." Card.
The truth of the matter is, she knew who I was and how I handle things. If I didn't like something or something you did, I was going to tell you on it. I wasn't going to sugarcoat anything because of your feelings. What about my feelings? The only thing I truly cared for was myself, and my opinions. I might sound cocky, but that was the truth and I never was one to lie.
The sound of the mothers fork hitting against the half empty glass of champagne she had filled my ears and brought me out of my distinctive thoughts. All of our attentions landed on my mothers, and she smiled brightly at all of her attentions. She stood confidently in front of us all, while the rest of my family gathered to where I was.
"I thank you all for coming out, and attending my annual balls. I promise this isn't going to be a long speech, when usually they are." the crowd laughs, all expect for me. "Me and my husband, Dominic appreciate every single one of you for your support and donations to the community. I want you all to be in the middle of the ball, dancing with a special person, or even a loved one. Again, I thank-" our attentions turn to the man clapping, the man who cut mother off at her last word.
The man clapping filled the room atmosphere, and it echoed all throughout. I couldn't quite make out of him until he finally arose in the ballroom. The man stood at a height taller than I've ever thought. His hair was dark, and nicely sleeked to the back. This man was breathtaking. He had to be personally created by the angels and god himself. He was fucking perfect, god forgive me. From his brown, and blue eyes leading all the way down to his feet, he was perfect. One eye was brown, and the other a deep blue, -you could almost swim in. His face was perfectly sculpted as if it was Michelangelo himself that had done it. His suit had to be worth thousands because of the type of material, and infrastructure it had. He was perfect.
"Well done, Adeline. Well done," the man accent was Russian, and it was thicker than blood. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my father have his hand on the gun that was stuffed at the side of his slacks. As the man strides along, the crowd quickly moves away and he walks down the line through them. He reaches before my father, but his eyes lands on mines, and for a moment he pauses. The man finally blinks, and turns his attention back to my father who pulls out his gun and aims it at him. The man holds both of his hands up, but doesn't take a step back. Instead, he takes a step closer. He lets the mouth of the gun hit his chest.
"Shoot," he mutters, staring down at my father. Everything was happening fast by the blink of the eye, because I didn't notice that Alessandro was about to pull out his gun, until the man pulled his out before and held up to Alessandro's head.
"Your father isn't teaching you enough, because that-that was such a stupid decision," he turns his eyes to Alessandro who has his hands up.
"What is this fucking about? Why are you even here, how did you even get in?" my father ask, and for the first time in my life, I could feel he was terrified. Who could this man be? My father wasn't afraid of anyone or anything.
Finally, the man takes a step back. He still had his gun pointed at a Alessandro's head. "I'm not here to cause trouble, old friend. I'm here to make amends," he takes the gun from Alessandro's head, and puts it to his side.
Father slowly retracts his gun, and puts it to his side. "I know you. The Ronan I know, doesn't make amends, with his enemies." the man's name was Ronan. Definitely, Russian. Very Russian.
"I've had a change of heart. Here, I'll even do this, if it makes any of you Americans feel better," he held his gun up, and began to take it apart. Each pieces of the gun fell onto the ground.
My father, still cautious keeps his gun to his side. Ronan kicks aside the pieces and holds out his hand for my father to take, but my father is hesitant. "Shake my hand, or I'll cut his off," Ronan told my father, his eyes going to Alessandro's.
Father takes his hand, and they both shake it. "Perfect, now you all can get back to whatever it is you Americans call this," he walks in-front of my father and takes one of the seats.
And just like that, everyone turns back to what they were doing before this happened and acted as if everything that just happened was normal.
My mother comes and stands besides my father. Just telling by the look on her face, she wasn't exactly happy. And I'm sure, it's because he interrupted her speech, and not the fact he just threatens her husband, and her own son.
"Whatever business, you want to discuss, it has to wait in the morning. This is my family's time, and you know how much family means to us." my mother told the man, playing with the gold knife. He traces his index finger of the sharp edges of the knife, before he puts it down. He catches my glance, and leans back into his seat. He looked up at my mother and said, "Is this your daughter?"
My mother finally looks at me, then looks back at the man. "Yes it is, why are you asking?" she asked.
"Tell her to stop staring at me," he stands to his feet and walks over to the other table and sits there. My mother takes the seat besides me, and grabs a hold of my hand. "I don't want you speaking, or to even as looking at him. He's not a good person, and he will hurt you, if he gets the chance." she tells me.
I remove my hand from hers. It was crazy how my family loved to talk and judge others, when they were just as the same. People always questioned why I was so different from the rest of my family. It was because, of my decisions. I wanted to be nothing like them, half of the time I didn't even want to be reminded that they were even my family.
I placed my purse onto the table, and stood up. Mother had grabbed a hold of my arm, but I pulled back and walk to the man sitting by himself.
"Dance with me," I said, as I walked to the middle of the ballroom. I spins around in my Dior low heels, and my eyes lock with the dark-haired man. I could tell he was hesitant to stand up, but he did it anyway. I watched as his brown, and blue eyes glimmered with the light of the large chandelier. Once he was closer to me, I could see his face in full view and it was even more perfect up close. The scar that sat on his face trailed from his eyebrow to right below his blue eye and it had my fingers itching to touch it.
"Are you sure about this?" his voice was, low and clangorous, but also calm and tempting. "Why wouldn't I be?" I questioned. I grabbed a hold of his large hand, which was covered in black ink. I interlocked it in between of mines, my hand was tiny compared to his large one. He snaked his arm around my waist, and pulled me closer to him. The smell of his rich scent, infused into my nose.
"I'm not who you think I am," he whispered, I could feel the faint feel of his bottom lip hit my ear, as it sent a shock throughout my body. But all I could do was look up at him and smile, "And who are you?"
"The devil printsessa,"
・・・
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