[Dark Romance] [In the process of editing]
In a life of forbidden emotions a lady in disguise has to follow certain rules. Once they're broken - she is as good as dead.
To each rule she finds an exception that leads to a consequence of choosing bet...
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In between the walls of my skull, my brain is on the edge of hesitation over the thrill and ignorance of who is my victim. Luckily, slow footsteps that are nearing the cage coerce my foot to shift, tearing my attention from my inner-monologue. I turn around, as my vision fixes on a pair of black brogues.
My eyes keep on leering higher along the man who is worn in the shade of obsidian tuxedo. His tall, about 6'5 feet, frame hovers over mine and I raise my eyebrow under the mask at such remark. Usually, I am the one looking down on people from 5'9 feet plus 5 inches of my heels. By the time I descry the face of my opponent, specifically the grey eyes from the infamous articles, I nearly bite on my tongue. Vincent De Vitto in his finest is standing in front of me.
Whenever he enters the room, no words are needed to be spoken, nor voice to be raised to hear him. "Vincent, I am Vincent De Vitto" He answers to a perplexed host who questions my opponent's identity and struggles with keeping an eye contact with him as he is intimidated by Italian Mafioso's glare.
Every step Vincent takes is slow and spellbinding, it's pinned in my memory. Due to his appealing frame, he stands out in the entire room, but it's not the only thing that everyone notices about him. Even if he's absent, you can still feel the heavy ghost of his presence, his tobacco cologne, and those ash eyes that remain after a once burning fire.
Vincent strips down, handing his jacket to a man who I assume is his bodyguard. At the clasp of his cufflinks, he draws a nefarious glare at me, snatching his shirt off. Regardless of how many people those eyes of mine has seen, this is new. Hadn't I been taught how to conceal my emotions, my slightly parted jaw might have as well cracked the floor.
At every move of him, a group of muscles bounces seductively, arising a desire in me to touch them. The devil incarnate, the one who indulges in tempting others with his neatly chiseled muscles, shores up his belt of low-waist pants, leaving me wonder what's below his male V-line.
My glare ascends to the coldness in his grey eyes, it is so solid that hell might freeze. He tilts his head down and our eyes greet. There is no time that would be enough to explore them, to reach the bottom and find the reason behind the hollowness. Just like the ocean, the windows of his soul are shut, they seem deep, no one can look straight into them, moreover, through them. It is like De Vitto has gates in his eyes that hide some desirable and forbidden feelings he conceals.
Vincent purrs teasingly while holding his right eyebrow higher than the left one. "Would you like me to spin, ma'am?" At his obvious statement, more than a question I realize - I was gawking for too long.
The host grabs the microphone from my hand and shouts yet another announcement, whilst the doors of the cage are slammed shut and all the lights are aimed at us. My heart is hastening with every second with either glee or rampage, I cannot tell. Spectators clap their hands in anticipation, as cold wind of excitement blasts inside of my belly, right to the throat, and my mouth forms in a smile.
