Dear Lord, when I get to heaven
Please, let me bring my man
ARYA MARTINEZ
I hope nobody heard our quiet discussion. I would do anything to have Elijah's head hanging in my room, but if my father found out he was here, and I didn't immediately attack him, my head would be the one hanging in my dad's office wall.
I wonder if my dad knows Elijah is don now. I imagine he does.
Elijah made it very clear that he would much rather be eaten by a cow than to be in my room at these hours of the night.
"There is a ball next week and I need you to be my date." He calmly explains to me as he examines my books from my bookshelf.
Noisy bitch.
His long fingers slowly trailing along the book spines. His eyes inspecting each one of them with quiet precision. Much more invested on the titles than on the woman in front of him.
He sits on my bed to continue explaining the plan.
Apparently, you can only attend the ball with an invitation. Said ball invites most of the mafias. There is supposed to be a truce on that ball. People mostly attend it just as a power move, to brag about what they have accomplished and what they could do. While my dad has been invited to those events he never attends. He said he has much better things to do than start a Cold War 2.0.
"Wouldn't it raise alarm if I got there as your date?" I question him. He thinks for just a second before standing up. Crossing the room cautiously like a predator stalks its prey.
As he is standing in front of me, he takes a strand of my hair between his fingers and tugging on it. Making me move my face closer to him. Our lips only inches apart.
"Haven't you only attended instate manners thus far. Of course, excluding the interaction you have had with my mafia. Speaking of, wouldn't you know about the deaths of 5 certain men Mia Cara?" His accent becoming more prominent on those last few words. His fingers leave my hair alone. But I feel his cold touch on my neck, trailing his long fingers along my collarbones. His eyes looking intently and curiously at mine.
Cold against warm.
"I think we both know the answer to that" I look up smiling at him, a smirk already adorning his face.
His touch leaves my neck, his hand lower to his suit pockets getting something out of it. Not to my surprise he gets my dagger out.
My neck doesn't get the time to miss his touch, feeling the sharp end of the blade instead. Hard enough to sting, soft enough to not draw any blood. "Do you know what I would have done in any other occasion?"
He trails the dagger to upper left side of my neck. "I would dig into your carotid artery and be merciful and kill you with one stroke."
I try to take the dagger away with no success, with his free hand he grabs both of my wrists together above my head. "Fuck you".
He murmurs something in Italian.
With one swift motion, continuing his hold on my wrists he gets down onto his knees switching the position of the dagger carefully digging it into my inner tight, his eyes still fixating on mine, darkening. "Or perhaps a superficial slash into your femoral artery so I can watch you suffer for some hours or even days if I want to".
"How would it feel getting killed by your own dagger" he strokes my thigh. A sick part of my mind wanting him to move his hand further up, and to give in what a deep part of me wants. But I don't let that feeling win.
Still, I see what I think is lust in his dark eyes. He is also one sick man. "Use your words princess." His words send a shiver down my spine.
I move my leg away from his touch, situating my knee under his chin, feeling stubble tickling sending another wave of electricity surging throughout my body ending on the ache in between my legs.
With all the inner strength I can muster I guide his face with my knee upwards. Making him get up from his position.
"See you next week Elijah."
He smiles at me freeing me out of his grasp and heading up to the window.
"I'll be eagerly waiting."
-
Days later I received a mysterious package, well maybe not so mysterious since I only seemed to be getting packages from Elijah.
It was a beautiful black dress, just my size. I fitted it on me, and it adorned my figure perfectly. I hated to admit it, but I sincerely loved the dress. And it seemed expensive. I wouldn't expect any less from Elijah, he is a don now. And since I was his plus one on the event, I needed to dress the part.
The dress was sent with a note.
Principessa,
As you know you will accompany me to the ball.
Sharing the details about our plan in this note is rather unsafe.
I will pick you up on Friday at 6pm be ready by then.
For now, you will wear the dress I got for you.
You better use it; it is an only piece made by a famous designer.
With hate,
Elijah de Luca.
What a prick, if it wasn't for the dress being so pretty, I would have destroyed it. He was the one who paid for it anyway.
His loss.
-
Elijah and I decided to meet right outside my mansion, since picking me up in his car in front of all my dad's men would raise huge red flags.
As soon as I got in a quieter area, I instantly saw Elijah's, matte black Lamborghini.
Italians.
He is standing up on the side of the driver's seat, a lit cigarette between his fingers. As he feels my presence, he throws the cigarette onto the floor and dims it with his foot.
With each stride he takes towards me I get his intoxicating smell filling my nostrils.
The first thing that gets my attention is his face, always so clean, eyes so cold yet captivating, jet-black hair molded into perfection.
His dark navy suit fitting flawlessly, looking extremely expensive yet dangerous. A white button up shirt hiding underneath his jacket. His first two buttons undone, giving me a slight glimpse at his unforgettable tattoos. And silver chain he usually wears.
His movements are slow and graceful, each and every one of them is completely thought through.
He opens the door for me, stopping for a second to stare at me, inspecting my full body making me feel nude underneath his cold gaze. Finally stopping at my face.
"The dress doesn't look half as bad as I thought it would."
He gives me his hand and I take it leading me away, closer to his car.
"I wish I could say the same about yourself, but only one of us is lucky enough."
"Remember the truce?" He opens the front passenger seat for me. I get in.
"No chains, whips nor handcuffs, you truly surprise me de Luca" I tease at him.
"That is no way to treat a date" His harsh cold tone makes me remember the mission that we are in.
-
Elijah implanted a bug in my dress in case we got separated I could tell him where I was at and in case I needed help.
As I stepped into the grand ballroom, the air was filled with an intoxicating blend of laughter, music, and the tinkling of crystal glasses. The opulent chandeliers hanging from the high ceiling bathed the room in a warm, golden glow, casting shimmering reflections on the polished marble floor beneath my feet.
The ballroom was a sea of swirling gowns and impeccably tailored suits, as couples glided gracefully across the floor, their movements synchronized with the enchanting melody of the orchestra.
As we walked further into the ballroom, I couldn't help but notice the curious glances directed our way. Whispers traveled through the crowd, hushed conversations speculating on the nature of our relationship.
Elijah took my hand, claiming me with the action. The people staring at us got the memo and turned away into hush conversation. Elijah radiated confidence and power, the people in here got the memo.
What has he done in his time as don that makes him so respected?
The hauntingly sweet fragrance of the myriad of flowers that adorned the tables mingled with the scent of fine perfumes, creating an intoxicating aroma that hung in the air. The music swelled, reaching its crescendo, as if echoing the tension between us, amplifying the clash of our emotions.
Every step we took, I could feel the weight of our rivalry, the unspoken challenge that hung in the air like a charged electric current. The glint in Elijah's eyes hinted at a mixture of amusement and underlying competitiveness, and I knew he relished this unexpected opportunity to keep me on edge.
The hold he had on my fingers never leaving me.
But I refused to let him see my vulnerability. Chin held high, I matched his pace with practiced grace, my eyes scanning the room. In that moment, the ballroom transformed into a battlefield, our every move a calculated step in this twisted game of social intrigue.
I could feel the gaze of the people attending the ball burning on my neck, but decided not to look back, I knew they would not be able to recognize me. And by the time people knew about me I hope they forgot about this event.
I could feel Elijah's breath on my ear. "In Italy we value our family and our bond, they think you are my future spouse and that's the reason that I am taking you on this event." Elijah's gaze leaves mine and focuses on the people staring. His cold gaze enough to stop them looking at us.
Even though this event held a truce on all the mafias that attended it, they still knew to respect him. He has a perfect body, 6'5 build of muscle hiding not so subtly under his suit. And a face carved by Greek gods, eyes so dangerous they can get a message across with just one stare, he radiates everything a don should. And if I was in a different position I would do just the same.
But I am Arya Martinez, he is my enemy he will come down soon enough, and our mafia will be the strongest one.
"That would be a shame wouldn't it" I tease him trying to talk out the tension between us.
"It will surely make it harder to get rid of you, word will go around, and I hate having my name on other people's mouths."
"Things always have to end with violence with you".
"You did kill 5 of my men so that statement is bold coming from you, sei una cosa coraggiosa" I feel a sense of amusement in his tone.
"And why are you so sure that you are going to win, none of the encounters we have had, had been fair." He always had the upper hand in every single one of them, but every day I have been training harder with Riccardo. When the day the two us come in confrontation I am the one coming out victorious.
He snorts.
"Mind you I am very good at close combat."
"Con quelle cosce abbronzate non mi sognerei altrimenti." Annoying Italian accent.
Our bodies are moving along the rhythm of the music, as if my body and mind weren't connected. My mind hated everything about him, my body enjoyed his presence. Our movements matching one another, his hand on my waist as if it should be there all along, I invited that feeling in.
With the corner of my eye, I could see a man and his date approaching. Elijah separated from me but not fully, his grip on my waist didn't leave my side. I got the memo he wanted him to think we were here together. We were, but not in that way.
I inspected them trying to see if they were a threat or not, but Elijah did not feel tense around them.
I have seen the man before in pictures but not in real life, his name is Roman Volkov, leader of the Russian mafia. He is very infamous among the ladies; Maria has told me all about him and I have to say he is better looking in person.
He is 34 years old, not married and nothing is known about his dating history, he keeps that part of him very hidden. He is well built, strong arms and chest hiding underneath the grey suit he has on. His chocolate brown hair a perfect match for his whiskey-colored eyes.
Elijah greets the man and the woman.
"This is Roman, an old friend of mine."
I greet Roman getting away from the grip Elijah has on me later on greeting the woman alongside him. She looks younger than him, she must be in her early 20's.
Soon enough we introduce ourselves, obviously I give a fake name.
Her name is Elizabeth, and she seems as forced to come here as I am. Her look is flawless tonight. Her olive-green dress contrasting perfectly her mocha brown skin.
Quickly after our introduction Roman speaks directly to Elijah.
"I have important news; I need to tell you now."
"Stay here and behave."
- - - - - -
Hee hee sorry for the wait, I went to Cancun with my boyfriend and entered my third semester of uni but I am back now.