My Mafia Babysitter

seven

Violet

My heart beat hard in my chest, the tight black gown I was sporting not aiding in my need for oxygen, although I appreciated that the sleeves were off-the-shoulder so my skin could easily breathe. My nerves were jumbled in a mess of anxiety. My father never invited me to his work-related events, but here I was: sitting in a black Bentley in an outrageously expensive and lavish gown, not long from being in the home of a rivaling family. I stared out the window, hoping the gently rain that was coming down from the Chicago skyline would alleviate some of my tension. 

It didn't.

After a forty minute drive, we arrived at a large white mansion with white pillars standing tall to brace the architecture's enormity. The driver pulled around a tear drop shaped driveway that surrounded a large marble water fountain in the middle. The car came to a stop and the driver slid out of the vehicle, opening the door for me and holding his hand out to me to take. Obliging, I took the man's hand and pulled myself out of the car, allowing him to hand me over to Alphonse who crossed our arms in a way that reminded me of my father. 

"If you feel, in any way, threatened or otherwise, alert one of our men and they will take you back to Hale Manor at once," Alphonse patted my hand with his opposite one as we walked up the many steps toward the large home. "Do not feel as though you have to stay on my or my sons' behalf." With a gentle nod, I turned my attention forward. The glass doors were opened for us and we entered the main foyer, my eyes were instantly drawn to the beautiful chandeliers that hung from the ceilings, each one composed of lit candlesticks and crystal, giving off a dim but beautiful light to the open concept. The floor tiles were white marble, making the sound of my heels echo over even the music that was being played. Floor-to-ceiling windows covered the four walls that now surrounded us, giving way to the very same beautiful Illinois skyline that I had been infatuated with earlier as the sun was in its last stages of setting. Avoiding the crowds of people bumping and grinding on the dance floor, Alphonse led me to the bar, ordering himself a shot of vodka. 

"It's that kind of night, Sir?" I questioned, a playful tone evident in my voice. 

"I am afraid so, my dear." Alphonse chuckled softly, his eyes shifting to something behind me. "Ah, here come my boys." I turned to follow his gaze, drinking in the sight of Niklaus suit-clad and cleaned up. His normally disheveled hair was slicked back and well kept, the unruly beard he had once sported was now nicely trimmed and neat, the black suit conforming to his body as though it were made specifically for the purpose of being worn by him. 

Niklaus

Ever since receiving the invitation to Bash Coleman's birthday party, I've been on edge waiting for some kind of trap to ensue. Why else invite the snobby little Manhattan princess? With the birthday idiot no where in sight, my eyes made way for the bar where my father was undoubtedly nursing a bottle of vodka to get him through this evening. Archor at my side, we shoulder past guests in our way, not caring if pushed or shoved others to the side. We are Hales, it's in our blood to be assholes. Nearing the bar, I glanced at my watch and noted the time. Nine o' clock. 

"Let's be gone by eleven, knowing Bash this party will last until next week." I groaned, my hands clenching and unclenching to relieve tension. 

"Oh, come on, little brother," Archor elbowed my side playfully, "Where's the party animal in you?" 

"Not here." I grumbled, my eyes finally finding the bar as we approached it. 

Fuck.

My eyes first found the slit in her black dress, her milky skin contrasting against the dark fabric like night and day. Traveling upward, my eyes found the dress to have hugged her figure in the best of ways, accentuating her small waist and pushing up her bust. And again, there was her skin, unmarked and delectable like melted vanilla ice cream. Her collarbones jutted out in a way that made me want to bite them, suck on them. A diamond choker situated itself around her neck, the small stones gleaming in the soft lighting of the ballroom. Her fire-red hair was curled in waves that flowed down her back. I yearned to wrapped it around my knuckles and pull.