I'm a Fighter, Not a Lover (Don G x OC) Mafiatale/Mobtale

~ Chapter 3 ~

Coming in with a realistic fake ID, Tamia passed security without a doubt.

Wearing absolutely gorgeous attire, Tamia strutted into the Winter Gala Ball when ten of night stroke. Her glimmering white satin dress fit her perfectly like a glove, showing every possible curve known to her body. The top of the sexy dress hugged her chest perking her breasts up to look appealing to any man's eye. The sides of her dress had thin slits that exposed her flawless smooth legs when she switched. And the white heels were just an add on for a bit of class as well.

She had natural beauty that shined so there was no need for pounds of makeup, instead, just a bit of sugarplum lip gloss to make her pink plump lips pop. Her hair pressed and curled, bounced gently every step she took. Married and non-married men turned their heads just to look at her making even their wives and other women within the room jealous.

Carrying her small clutch purse she sat down at the bar, legs crossed at an angle, and ordered a drink. Tropical Martini. Nothing strong, but sweet and tangy. She took a small sip out of the alcoholic beverage and looked around "curiously", searching for her target.

Where is he? Tamia thought. He's got to be around here somewhere. And I can't necessarily look around too much, otherwise I'll be thought of as suspicious.

When catching sight of the Mayor/ King of Monsters, she snapped her eyes towards the group of officials among them out of her peripheral vision. Eyeing them all suspiciously, they appeared to be laughing and chattering among each other, drinks of champagne in their hands.

Based on her research from last night, the target is twenty-seven years old, a wealthy businessman, has had many love affairs apparently, and is a very close ally/friend with the Mayor of Ebott City, King Asgore. Oh, and not to forget, he's a monster.

Either way, Tamia has killed both humans and monsters so it does not matter to her nor does it make a difference. All she wants to do is get in and get out. She's gotten in, the other part is of getting out which is now determined by the events that go down tonight.

A tall skeletal man comes into view within the group, making Tamia fully turn her head. He wore a black tuxedo with a yellow contrast bow tie and a black fedora that went over his skull tilted slightly. In bodybuild, he wasn't skinny whatsoever but had an almost athletic bulky aspect to his figure. He had a crack that ran above his left eye socket and one that ran below the right along with a defined shaped square jaw. His orbs for eyes looked of milky white marbles as if reminiscing in the moonlight itself, a ghostly color. He had a flirtatious smile that could make the ladies fall and swoon over him by the mile all too well.

Yep, she had to admit, he was quite the looker. Oddly.

Now that definitely had to be Don G. And luckily, it was. The two had made eye contact for a consequential moment, Tamia the first to look away, shy. A smirk made its way onto his bony lips when catching sight of the gorgeous, sexy lady from across the room at the bar. He dismissed himself temporarily from the group and swaggered over to the bar, taking a seat next to the woman who he had laid his eyes upon.

"Why hello there gorgeous," he spoke flirtatiously, voice sexy and deep yet lulling. "Mind if I sit here?" 

He seemed certainly of all a playboy.

"No, not at all," she said, flashing him the most sweetest smile she could. He sat down, pride shown in his body language.

"The name's Don G. So, what's your name dollface?" he asked, angling himself toward her direction on his seat, interested as he held out his hand for her to shake. Tamia winced inwardly at the pet nickname, but chose not to dwell on it. After all, he would be dead by the end of the night anyways, so it didn't necessarily matter. She shook his hand politely and flashed another smile.

"Roxanne Withers," she spoke firm, but tone of voice light. "But most people call me Roxy."

"A beautiful name for a beautiful woman," he grinned, pearly white teeth shown.

"Why thank you."

"Of course. And if I must say so, I've never seen you around here darlin'," he explained, curious of the light melanated female. He had ordered an alcoholic beverage as well. A shot of whisky.

"Ah. Well, you see, I'm from out of state and came here to visit this place for a short period of time while on vacation. Rumors spread around the city about the Gala Ball and I just had to attend," she explained, taking one last sip out of her Martini before it was empty. "After all, vacations are all about fun."

"I see. Well, then how about we have some fun?" Don G smirked, stepping out of his seat. He extended his hand, bowing slightly before Tamia. She had grown puzzled at his movement until he asked her, "Care to dance?"

She simpered a smile, declining the offer. "I would love to, but of course, and sadly, I can't dance very well." Don G chuckled in response.

"That's okay, I can teach ya'." He took her to the dance floor without protest and placed a hand on her waist while holding her hand with the other. He took in her beautiful features all while they swayed back and forth to the slow tune of blues and jazz.

Curled dark brown hair past her shoulders, almost asiananic slanted eyes with long beautiful black thick eyelashes, a cute button nose, natural pink tinted in her cheeks, and pink plump glossy lips. However, back to her eyes... Although they were a regular common color among other humans, her dark chocolate eyes popped out the most of all her beauty. They were mesmerizing yet stagnant in a way, as if it was blocking something vulnerable, still shining.

The slow music elevated into an upbeat jazz tune, people dancing quickly and cheerful. A smirk spread across his bony lips. "I hope you can keep up doll, I'm a fast dancer," he whispered.

"I'll try," she giggled. They moved back and forth at a steady but fast pace almost in samba. He took and spun her around this way and that, pulling her back in afterwards. He then dipped her down, a hand at the small of her back below her waist and the other holding her right thigh, their faces a centimeter apart.

"I thought you said you couldn't dance very well," he teased, smirking. She smirked back.

"Well, I never said I couldn't dance at all," she retaliated cleverly, shrugging. He brought her back up swiftly, both feet now planted on the polished tiled floor again. She had him amused, now she would just have to lead him somewhere private and finish the job.

"So, what exactly do you have in mind after we dance Mon cheri?" he cooed gruffly.

"Well Monsieur, I was thinking that perhaps you'd figure out that part for me," she said seductively, batting her eyelashes. Clearly understanding her words, he grinned and took them off the dance floor into a secluded area.

Just. As. Expected.