Black Death And White Roses (1) Mafia Romance

12. What's in a name

Roxana

(Trigger warning! Sex, violence, non-consensual stuff).

I look at myself again in the small mirror of the container bathroom while I tie the red ribbon that I found lying around, in my silver-blond hair.

It feels like a jest and I go along with the irony. Anything just to not think too deeply about the situation. It's like wrapping the damn gift I am supposed to be, to cater to a too-rich guy's whims.

I have naturally pale skin and light green eyes, the color of mint mingled with a bit of turquoise, like a mountain lake, as my dad used to say. I used to think of myself as pretty, some time ago when I still cared what people thought of my looks. Now I am not even sure it's a good thing to be pretty.

As I don't have another dress, I am wearing the same clothes as yesterday. The ivory chiffon is shimmering in the moonlight as I cross the garden in heels.

To add a bit of color I have painted my nails and my lips red, with Lisa's lipstick and nail polish. I used to like nail polish so much in the past. Now I feel ridiculous looking at my hands, ridiculous, like the ribbon in my hair that fits the color of my lipstick.

Clack, clack. The heels clatter on the marble floor of the villa. It echoes strangely in the empty hallway as I make my way to Stefano Messina's office.

It's quarter past twelve and the house seems deserted except for the two bodyguards that I have encountered on my way, one at the entrance of the villa and one at the entrance of his office. None of them asked any questions, they just stepped to the side and opened the door for me.

Everyone seems to be aware of what's going on but nobody seems to mind. Is their boss also aware? Is another sermon going to wait for me tomorrow morning on the scaffolding? I will let myself be surprised.

Since the bodyguard just opened the door for me I step inside without knocking.

Stefano is sitting at a big mahogany desk sipping whiskey from a heavy crystal glass.

His dark brown hair is tied back. He is wearing gray slacks and a white shirt that has the first three buttons undone.

He is undoubtedly handsome and his chestnut brown eyes sparkle when he sees me.

OK, Roxi, it's on.

"Hello, sir. Christian told me you want to discuss adjustments to the project. Tonight," I say as expressionless as I can. I am not sure what exactly to expect; still, unwillingly I stress the last word.

I mean don't get me wrong, I know why I am here, it's just really uncomfortable. However, I have been in worse situations.

"Yeah? And what else did Christian tell you?" he says while a lopsided smile blooms on his face, revealing his sharp, white, left canine. I feel a bit like Red Riding Hood in front of the big bad wolf. She also didn't know what she was walking into when she went on her stroll to Grandma's house. I pretend to know though what's expected from me. So let's proceed.

"He told me that I should wear a dress."

"Did he now? And you obeyed. Are you always this obedient? Come closer," he says, stretching out his hand.

"Only when it serves a purpose that I deem worthy," I answer truthfully and put my hand into his.

He pulls me closer and makes me sit on his lap. This was fast. Ok... I don't mind; means it will be over sooner.

"I like your colors." His voice is mellow. 

"You mean the dress?"

"Also, but mainly the color of your skin; I like how iridescent it is, and how effortless I can trace the blue of your veins through it. And the color of your hair. I always liked blonds and you look like a marble statue. You know, we Italians are big on statues and marble."