The night is a mistress of life. It is the hardest time to be alive for, those silent hours bring forth Melancholic air and scandalous actions. In its prime it feeds off of the secrets, schemes and lies made within it, knowing it was only a matter o...
"To burn with desire and keep quiet about it is the greatest punishment we can bring on ourselves." Federico García Lorca
San Marino, CA OCTOBER
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Tonight was about one thing: The Lockhart gala.
Armed men patrolled the premises and cars lined the circular driveway as we pulled up to the mansion. Grand turrets, slated roofing and ornate windows, the meticulous detail and craftsmanship involved with the French chateaux exterior was breathtaking.
I continued to admire the structure and designs of the home as I took Luca's hand and stepped onto the concrete. It was a stretch to call this place a home. To host an event like this at your house meant that you had too much space to give a homey vibe.
"This is for you," said Luca, lifting a rhinestone masquerade mask from his suit pocket. I smell his cologne when he leaned in close to tie the strings of my mask around my straightened hair. I'm stuck in place, my stomach twists with nerves as he drops the crystal veil of the mask to cover my mouth. A little dazed by the softness of his actions, I almost jumped when his arm snaked around my waist to pull me closer.
My action doesn't go unnoticed like I hoped. Face covered by a black mask, he looked me up and down a few times, studying me. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing." When I shifted my weight on my heels and licked some gloss off my lips, his eyes followed the movements, unconvinced. "Okay. Fine. I'm a little nervous." To emphasize it, my hands brushed the sides of my dress, smoothing out imaginary wrinkles. I hate that the giant brute can throw on a Brioni tux and style his hair away from his face and, boom, he looks picture perfect. "I'll be fine. Just give me a minute."
From crystal-embellished straps to a flame-inspired sweetheart neck and tonal mesh insert, the floor sweeping dress has a high slit and an open twist back for shape, paired with silver heels. So while I might look the part, picture perfect just like him, there's a whisper in my head telling me that I don't belong here.
The commotion around us is loud. It's the rest of his family stepping out of SUVs and making final adjustments to their clothes. In spite of their distracting banter, my focus shot towards Luca when he said, "You're perfect." Perfect, I echoed mentally and my cheeks started to twitch, wanting to smile. "I mean it. Don't worry about fitting in with anyone in there because you will always stand out and shine. I don't give a fuck about any of them and you shouldn't either."
He's right. I'm a bad bitch. And I'm a smart bitch. These high society elitists will not get under my skin.
I exhaled all of my doubts then laid a loving kiss under his jaw, a wordless thank you. "I'm ready now."
Luciano smiled then hooked my arm around his and led us towards the entrance. "Then let's get this over with."
Exuding opulence, the dramatic iron doors part to reveal a soaring ceiling, crystal chandeliers and a grand staircase that leads to the sleeping area. On the group floor, instead of a formal living room, decadent marble floors led to two massive ballrooms with equally high ceilings. There's a wall of windows, encased by steel bars and floor-to-ceiling curtains covered most. The ones that are open give an unobstructed view of the ocean and sparkling pool on the property.
