Black Death And White Roses (1) Mafia Romance

34. Million euro baby

Roxana

"You are good at it, aren't you?"

"I, I don't know, sir. How would you want me to dance?" I ask timidly while the acid in my stomach is bubbling and I am looking at Stefano's face. His intense chestnut eyes sparkle wildly in anticipation.

"Well... Sexy. Impress me. Getting your million depends on how pleased I will be. You are free to take your clothes off if you feel like it. Come on, I am sure a few gentlemen here would welcome a little show before the discussions."

"But I... I only studied ballroom dance; I am not a stripper," I mutter, knowing how ridiculous I sound and how little he cares.

"Well, then I see the chances to get a million quite slim. I think you want to give it a try though, don't you?"

"Yeah..." I exhale. My heartbeat is quickening as I stand up from his lap and steal another glance at Marco who is looking in our direction unapologetically, clutching the carved wooden armrest of the chair he is sitting on.

"Con rispetto, signore, è sicuro che sia una buona idea?/ Respectfully sir, are you sure this is a good idea?" Tomaso whispers something I understand only halfway.

Stefano just frowns.

"Perché non dovrebbe essere?/ Why wouldn't it be?"

"Don Marco, lui ha davvero un'ottima mira con tutti i tipi di armi/ Hmm, you know... don Marco, has a really, really good aim with all sort of weapons."

"Lascialo provare/ Let him try ...," answers Stefano dismissively.

I frown not understanding what they say. Maybe if I could concentrate on something else than the sea of eyes staring at me, I would, but clearly can't. Stefano waves a waiter over and whispers something to him. 

The lights in the room adjust slightly so that they draw attention to me and the first tunes of a song resonate. My heart is hammering. I need to calm down. Dear Lord, please, help me somehow.

It's for Dani and for Kary. It has to work. Trying to keep my body from shaking, I walk over to the Arabian man, take the whiskey glass from his hand, and down it in one sip.
He looks me in the eyes for the first time and it feels odd; I read pity and sadness in his gaze.

Ok, Roxi, it's on. The song plays further and I happen to recognize it. I think it's called Earned It, or Earn it, or something. Pun intended, Stefano?

I'ma care for you, you, you
I'ma care for you, you, you, you, yeah

The voice of the singer is quite unique. What is he saying? Care for you? That is a sensitive subject.

There are a few slim metal pillars in the room; not quite a pole but almost. I close my eyes and breathe in starting to move to the music, spinning slowly around the pillar.

You make it look like it's magic
'Cause I see nobody, nobody but you, you, you

I inhale sharply again.

I'm so used to being used...

Ah, damn you and your lyrics.

Unwillingly I look over to Marco who is throwing an utmost hateful glance toward Stefano, his fist clenched and knuckles white.

The movement earns me some whistles, claps, and chuckles.

The old man he came with, whispers something into his ear but he stops paying attention when his glance catches mine and all the hate dissolves into something nauseating and numbing.