December 5th 1920
Anastasia woke with a yawn as she looked up towards the man she was entangled with. She gave a friendly smile before slowly and quietly taking off the covers and making her way towards the door.
"Where you going?" Michael's raspy voice asked.
"I was going to head downstairs."
"Come back." Michael winged causing Anastasia to roll her eyes as she hopped back in.
"We have to leave soon." Anastasia stated.
"Why?"
"Because we have to be back in time for the dance." She replied receiving a long grunt from Michael. "It's not that bad." She smiled squeezing his cheeks.
"I hate when you do that."
"Why?" She cackled.
"Because it makes me feel like a baby."
"You are a baby Michael."
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"Bye Tommy." Anastasia called as her and Michael headed outside. Michael led her towards his car as they both got in and made their way home.
Anastasia looked out of her window and into the distance, counting clouds and making them into shapes, Michael often shared glances at her, smiling at her childishness. But the thought of events that were supposed to happen tonight cut his happiness short.
"We don't have to do this." Michael suddenly blurted.
Anna sighed as she replied, "Michael."
"I'm serious, we can head back home and have a nice night like normal couples are meant to do." He grunted.
"No Michael, Tommy said-"
"Tommy this, Tommy that, hell with it all!" He shouted. There was a long pause as Michael pushed his foot down on the pedal, speeding faster. "I'm sorry... again." Michael paused.
"I just I love you that's all."
"And I love you too but god dammit Michael pull yourself together. You can do as you please but I'm going tonight." Anastasia explained.
"Like I'm going to leave you on your own." Michael scoffed. "But promise me you'll be safe."
"I promise." She smiled.
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"Looking sexy." Michael winked as Anastasia walked towards him on the dance floor, they had to come separately so it wasn't too bait.
"Same goes for you." She giggled.
He bowed as he gestured for her hand, "May I have this dance?"
"You May kind sir." She replied sarcastically.
They began to dance, his right hand on her waist and his left hand in her right. She held onto his shoulder as they waltzed around the room. It was a fancy hall, everyone partnering up as they danced the night away. Michael pulled out his pocket watch, eyeing the time.
"It's eight thirty, six to seven minutes." He mumbled. "You ready?" He asked looking towards the Italian guys stood next to the dance floor. "They look like dicks." He sighed. It took everything in him to not drag her away and out of the hall.
"It'll be alright." She nodded assuringly.
"Be safe." He kissed her cheek as he let go of her waist, straightening his tie as he headed for the stairs.
There were exactly six of them all in navy blue suits with a red rose in their jacket front pocket. Who to talk to was the real question. As if her prayers had been answered, a man in a black suit and white rose spun around, his eyes scanning the hall, his men whispering into his ear. Him.
"Six to seven minutes." She repeated as she patted her dress down, took a deep breath in and made her way towards the circle of men.
"Hello gentleman." She smiled, hands behind her back as she rocked on her heels. Yet the men barely paid her any attention, continuing their conversations. "Ahem." She tried again but no hope. "I said hello gentleman." She raised her voice.
"What?" One of them rudely asked as they turned around.
"I was wondering if..." She started.
"Yes?"
"If you... um..." Shit. "would... like to dance?" She questioned resulting in him scoffing.
"You're serious?" He replied after he had finished laughing, his thick Italian accent making it seem like more of a mockery.
"Actually, I wasn't asking you," Anna smoothly replied, pointing to the man in the black suit. "I was asking your friend."
"My friend?" He repeated, offended yet trying to hold in another laugh.
"Yes, why not?" Anna smiled. The Italian guy turned back around muttering,
"Signore, questa cagna vuole un po '" (Sir, this bitch wants some.) The Italian guy laughed.
"Huh?" The leader asked before glancing at Anastasia and back to his friend. He then took a double glance at her, her beauty making him double think his answer.
"Allora sono io che lei otterrà." (Then it's me she shall get.) The leader smiled before striding up to Anastasia.
"Signora, Matteo, pleasure to meet you and I'd be honoured to dance with you." He winked as he held out his hand. Anastasia politely took it as she showed the way to the dance floor. Matteo looked back at his crew before winking at them and following her to the floor. They got into a dancing position, his hand a little too low for her liking as they began dancing.
༄ؘ ۪۪۫۫ ▹▫◃ ۪۪۫۫ ༄ؘ ˑ
Michael had made it to the third floor without bumping into anybody so far. Pushing his head slightly forward, he scoped the area before making his way forward.
"So far so good." He mumbled to himself as he made his way to the door where Tommy had told him to go. He was confused as to why no one was outside the door because Tommy's never wrong. Quietly tip-toeing towards the door, he pushed the handle down, the door opening at his command. Ha! He made his way in, the room pitch black as he shut the door. Light ? Shuffling around in the dark, he placed his hand upon the wall, his fingers helplessly looking for some sort of switch. Click! The lights came on, Michael getting way to excited as he spun around.
Fuck. Well he found the drawers, but Tommy failed to mention the three hefty men guarding it. 1 to 3, great!
"Cosa stai facendo qui?" (What are you doing in here?" One of them had asked, taking a step forward.
"Italian? Nice." Michael nodded his head awkwardly.
"He said, what are you doing in here?" Another had snarled angrily.
"Funny thing that." Michael chuckled. Shit. Michael launched forward, his fist landing in one's face, as he fell to the floor, Michael shaking his hand at the pain. The next guy, came forward, his hand aiming for Michael's stomach as he hunched over. That fucking hurt. Michael had no time to heal, standing up straight, he took out something from his waist, a cosh. Extending it, he attempted to whack the next guy across the head, but missed as he smacked Michael's face. Ow! Michael got back up, his heart racing, he sort of missed the action. Adrenaline kicking in, he got a clean hit on the guy across the skull, the last and final guy making his way over. Michael sighed, unloosening his jaw as he stepped forward. "This is slightly unfair." He muttered. The opposing guy growled, charging of Michael as he ducked, hitting the behind of the Italian's legs before racing forward and snatching the folders.
"Cretino!" The last Italian stood back up as he pulled out a gun.
"Shit." Michael yelled. Ducking behind the desk as shots were fired. Michael sighed, his wife downstairs making him feel uneasy. Bravely, he stood back, up running towards the door as he ducked at the nearly hit shots. Barging past he ran out the door, the Italians not long behind. He rushed down the stairs to find Anastasia doing as she promised. This is really not what he needed to see right now, his wife in some Italian man's hand which by the way was way too far down south.
Anastasia looked up to where Michael was standing and gesturing it was time for them to leave. She looked back towards the Italian man who was smiling wickedly at her.
"Thank you for the dance but I must get going now." She smiled politely as she tried to walk away.
But he grabbed her arm and pulled her back towards him. "But the song isn't over." He commented.
"Get off." She declined as she made her way over to Michael. He grabbed her hand, not caring to stare out the man as he pulled her towards the exit, his breathing falling uneven.
"Quello era uno strano capo." (That was strange boss) One of his men mumbled.
"Si, si lo era." (Yes, yes it was) Matteo slowly replied as he watched them exit. Matteo and his gang began conversing once more before there was a loud yell.
"CAPO CAPO!" (BOSS BOSS) One of the men Michael had fought stood at the top of the stairs. "Ce l'ha, Tommy ce l'ha!" (He's got it, Tommy's got it!) He panted.
"What!" Matteo yelled before muttering in his Italian accent, "classic fucking Shelby."