★★Mariella's POV★★



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We were all dressed to the nines, crammed into the back of a luxurious limousine, on our way to the gala. Santino, as always, couldn't keep his mouth shut about some girl he swore he was destined to charm tonight. He was practically vibrating in his seat, peppering Enzo with questions on how to "bag her."

His words, not mine. I would've said something more... respectful, but here we are.

"So, what you're saying is just be myself?" Santino repeated Enzo's advice, his tone skeptical but hopeful.

"Yes, Santi," Enzo replied, visibly exhausted. "Just walk up to her and be yourself."

At that, I couldn't help but laugh—a little snort that quickly escalated into full-on giggles. Suddenly, all eyes were on me, except for Papa, who was staring out the window, probably wishing he was anywhere but here.

"What?" I asked, still laughing.

Santino shot me a glare. "What's so funny, Mariella?"

I struggled to compose myself. "You really think being... well, you..." I gestured dramatically at him, up and down, like he was a walking punchline. "...is going to work?"

Enzo shot me a look that screamed, Shut up before this gets worse, but I ignored him. If anything, his warning just egged me on.

"Listen, baby brother," I said, leaning forward like I was about to drop some profound wisdom. "As your dear, loving, amazing, cool sister, I feel obligated to be honest. You're going to scare the poor girl away the second she lays eyes on you."

Santino's jaw dropped. "Papa! Do you hear her?!" he sputtered, gesturing wildly in my direction like he was on trial and I was the prosecutor.

Papa finally turned to look at us, rubbing his temples like the migraine had officially won. Just as he opened his mouth, Alfonzo interrupted from the front. "Capo, siamo arrivati. (Boss, we're here)"

Papa nodded in relief, eager to escape our nonsense. Before stepping out, he turned back to us with the weariness of a man who'd raised chaos incarnate. "Please, for the love of God, all three of you—be on your best behavior."

Enzo raised both hands like a saint wrongly accused. "I didn't even do anything."

The guards opened our doors, and Gio reached out to help me step out gracefully. Santino, still seething, muttered under his breath about how I was "ruining his vibe." I just chuckled, patting him on the shoulder as I passed.

"Cheer up, Santi," I teased. "If all else fails, you can always practice your flirting in the mirror. That's who you'll be going home with anyway."

I adjusted my white silk dress, the fabric hugging my curves like it was made just for me. The backless design plunged daringly low, with delicate straps and a flowing string tied in a graceful knot that swayed softly as I moved. My white stilettos clicked against the marble steps, and my hair was styled in a perfectly messy bun, loose curls framing my face. Of course, given the company tonight—powerful mafias and dangerous deals—I'd come prepared. A blade was strapped securely to my thigh beneath the flowing fabric, and a concealed needle nestled in my hair, both elegant and lethal.

The ballroom itself was breathtaking, a paradox of beauty and menace. Crystal chandeliers hung like jeweled swords from the vaulted ceiling, their light refracting in a thousand brilliant shards across the room. The floor was polished marble, so reflective it mirrored the intricate patterns of the golden ceiling fresco, which depicted gods and warriors locked in eternal combat. Floor-to-ceiling windows framed the city skyline, while heavy velvet curtains in deep crimson pooled like spilled wine at their edges. The room buzzed with tension beneath the refined facade—soft laughter and clinking glasses couldn't quite mask the sharp glances and murmured negotiations happening in the shadows. It was a palace for power, and every person in it knew it.

As we reached the top of the grand staircase, I paused, scanning the sea of faces below. It was a mix of the familiar and the unfamiliar—powerful families, rival mafias, politicians, and business moguls, all mingling under the guise of civility. I recognized many from previous galas, their polished smiles hiding the sins they'd committed to earn their place here.

As we ascended the grand marble staircase, Gio extended his arm, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. I hesitated before looping my arm through his, my fingers resting lightly on his forearm. The guards standing on either side barely spared us a glance, already recognizing my father and stepping aside. Their presence was nothing new, just another part of the world I'd grown up in. The rhythmic click of our heels against the polished stone filled the silence between us.

"You look stunning tonight," Gio murmured, his voice smooth yet sincere.

I glanced up at him, arching a brow. "I always do."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Ah, there it is. The ever-humble Mariella."

A smirk played on my lips, but I could feel the warmth creeping up my neck. "I don't do modesty. It's overrated."

Gio's eyes scanned me from head to toe, not in a way that felt possessive but rather admiring, appreciating. "Still, this dress is something else. White suits you."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart betrayed me, skipping a beat. "You act like you've never seen me in white before."

"Not like this," he admitted, his gaze lingering for a second too long. "This isn't just a dress. This is a statement. You walk in a room, and everyone looks."

I scoffed. "As they should."

He laughed, low and rich, shaking his head. "You're impossible."

We reached the bottom of the staircase, stepping into the grand courtroom where the night's event was being held. The air was thick with cigar smoke and hushed conversations, power pressing against the walls like a living force. Eyes flickered toward us—some lingering in admiration, others with veiled curiosity.

Gio leaned in slightly, lowering his voice just for me. "You know, for someone who acts like she doesn't care about compliments, you sure are blushing."

My head snapped toward him, and I narrowed my eyes. "I am not blushing."

He grinned, his confidence unwavering. "Sure, sweetheart. Keep telling yourself that."

I exhaled sharply, trying to steady myself, but the way he was looking at me—like I was something to be admired rather than owned—had my pulse betraying me.

"Don't get used to it," I muttered as we stepped further into the lion's den.

Gio just chuckled, guiding me forward. "Oh, I already have."

Waitstaff in crisp uniforms weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne, the soft clinking of glasses blending with the hum of hushed conversations and the occasional burst of laughter. Enzo and Santino peeled off in opposite directions, Santino no doubt trying to charm some poor girl, while Papa immediately found himself surrounded by a group of men, deep in discussion. That left me with Gio, who lingered behind me like a silent shadow.

I sighed, plucking a champagne glass from a passing tray and taking a sip. It was crisp and cold, but it wouldn't be enough to get me through the night. I turned to Gio, who was watching the crowd like a hawk. "I'm heading to the bar," I said, already moving.

The bartender greeted me with a polite nod as I slid onto a stool. "A martini. Strong," I requested.

I barely had a chance to relax when I heard my name, spoken in a voice that immediately made my skin crawl.

"Mariella De Angelis," the voice drawled.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, summoning every ounce of patience I possessed, and then plastered on a fake smile as I turned. "Niko Zervos," I said sweetly, my tone dripping with feigned delight.

He stood there, tall and confident, with his slicked-back black hair, thick eyebrows, and a jawline so sharp it could probably cut glass. He looked annoyingly handsome in his tailored suit, but that didn't make up for the fact that he was a complete and utter ass.

"Wow," he said, his dark eyes raking over my dress in a way that made me want to reach for the knife strapped to my thigh. "You look divine, might I say."

I forced a smile, though my patience was wearing thin. "Thank you," I replied curtly.

He waited, clearly expecting me to return the compliment. I glanced at Gio over my shoulder, who was standing a few steps behind me, his expression hard and unyielding. Niko noticed him, too, but chose to ignore him.

"Well," I said finally, "you look rather... dashing." My words dripped with sarcasm, but of course, Niko was too self-absorbed to notice.

He chuckled, flashing a grin that made me want to slap it right off his face. "Always a pleasure talking to you, Mariella. You have such a... unique way with words."

I took a long sip of my champagne, wishing it were something stronger. "How are you, Niko?" I asked, only to be polite.

"I'm doing well, thank you," he said, his tone far too smug. "In fact, I've been thinking about you."

I nearly choked on my drink but managed to keep my expression neutral. "Have you now? How flattering."

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Actually, I have something for you. A gift. Something I think you'll really like."

I raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across my face. "A gift? That's... thoughtful of you."

"It's not here," he said, glancing around as if sharing a secret. "It's in the study upstairs. I think you'll find it quite... intriguing."

I straightened, my guard immediately going up. "Intriguing, huh? I'll pass, but thanks for the offer."

He frowned, clearly not expecting me to decline. "Come on, Mariella. It'll only take five minutes. You'll regret it if you don't."

Doubtful, I thought. But my curiosity got the better of me. "Fine," I said finally. "Show me this 'gift.'"

His face lit up, but then he glanced at Gio, who was watching us like a hawk. "Uh... maybe your bodyguard should stay here. It's a private matter."

"Not happening," Gio said flatly.

"Niko," I interjected, holding up a hand. "He's just doing his job. Relax."

"I insist," Niko said, his tone soft but firm. "This is between us."

I looked at Gio, who was clearly seconds away from grabbing Niko by the throat. "Gio, va bene (Gio, it's fine,)" I said calmly. "Torno subito. Resta qui (I'll be right back. Stay here.)"

He didn't like it, but he nodded, stepping aside. I followed Niko out of the ballroom, my heels clicking against the marble floors as we made our way down a quiet hallway and into the dimly lit study. The room was lined with bookshelves, the scent of leather and cigar smoke heavy in the air.

I crossed my arms, my patience wearing thin. "Alright, Niko. What's this 'gift' you couldn't wait to show me?"

He turned to face me, his smirk widening. "Oh, you'll see, cara mia (my dear)."

Niko walks behind the desk, and I can hear him rummaging through a drawer. My patience is already wearing thin, and the sound of my stiletto heels tapping against the polished floor echoes through the room. My arms are crossed, and I'm debating if I should just leave. Then, he turns around, holding a small red box.

My eyes widen instinctively, and my breath catches.

No. No, no, no.

If that's what I think it is, I swear I'll throw myself out the nearest window.

He walks toward me with that smug grin plastered across his face, holding the box out like it's the Holy Grail.

"I just want to say, Mariella," he starts, reaching out to tuck a loose curl behind my ear. The touch of his fingers makes my skin crawl, and it takes everything in me not to slap his hand away. "I know we haven't had the chance to get close lately, but after this, I hope you'll realize how much I care for you. I'd like for us to... start something." His voice drips with confidence, his smirk practically begging for a punch.

I force a tight, awkward smile and manage to say, "Oh?" because, honestly, I have no idea how else to respond.

"Here, cara mia. Open it. (my dear)." He places the box in my hands like it's some grand gesture, and I open it hesitantly, peeking inside as if it might explode.

And there it is.

A diamond necklace, sparkling obnoxiously under the dim lighting. The pendant is shaped like a heart, and on the back, I can see engraved initials.

Oh, Jesus. Ugh.

Of course, it's personalized. How sweet. I'm going to be sick.

I glance up at him, my smile frozen awkwardly on my face. "Wow... It's... cool," I say, my voice lacking any real enthusiasm.

He doesn't seem to notice—or maybe he just doesn't care. "Let me," he says, taking the necklace from the box and stepping behind me.

I stand stiffly as he clasps it around my neck, the cold metal resting against my skin like a weight I didn't ask for. He adjusts it, his fingers brushing the back of my neck. I swallow the urge to scream.

"It looks perfect on you," he says, his voice low and close to my ear.

I turn to face him, forcing another awkward smile. "It's... very pretty. Thank you, Niko."

But before I can step back, he leans in and kisses me. My entire body tenses, and for a moment, I'm too shocked to move. Then my brain catches up, and I pull away, plastering on the fakest smile I've ever worn in my life.

"Oh! My father," I say suddenly, pretending to hear something. "I think he's calling for me. I should go see what he needs."

Niko raises an eyebrow but steps back, still smirking. "Of course. But I hope you'll save me a dance later, bella. (pretty.)"

"Sure," I lie through my teeth, already inching toward the door. "I'll see you later."

I step out into the hallway, pretending to head toward the ballroom, but as soon as he's out of sight, I duck into the nearest ladies' room. I lean against the sink, staring at my reflection in the mirror, the diamond necklace glinting mockingly at me.

"What the hell just happened?" I whisper to myself.

I retouch my lipgloss, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of his lips on mine. After a moment, I straighten up, adjusting my dress and squaring my shoulders.

"Alright, Mariella," I mutter. "Get it together. You've dealt with worse."

With one last glance at the mirror, I push open the door and step back into the hallway, ready to tackle whatever madness this night still had in store.

The dimly lit hallway hummed with the distant chatter of the party, but here, away from the grand spectacle, the air was thick with something else—something volatile.

I rounded the corner too fast, my heels clicking against the marble, and slammed into a hard chest. Strong hands caught me, steadying me before I could stumble. I looked up, already irritated, only to find myself face to face with none other than Leon.

"Princess," he drawled, his voice dripping with mockery.

I scowled, pushing against his chest, but he didn't budge. "Move."

He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with something dark and amused. "Not even a 'hello'? I'm wounded."

I huffed, trying to sidestep him, but he blocked my path with ease. "What do you want, Leon? Or do you just get off on being a nuisance?"

His smirk deepened. "Oh, I get off on a lot of things, Mariella. Watching you squirm might just be one of them."

My jaw clenched. "Go to hell."

He leaned in, close enough that I could smell the whiskey on his breath, mixed with something darker—dangerous. "Ladies first."

The tension was suffocating, charged like a wire ready to snap. I refused to back down, tilting my chin up defiantly. "You think you intimidate me?"

Leon's fingers brushed against my bare arm—just the slightest graze, barely there. But it was enough. A shiver shot through me, my breath hitching before I could stop it. His eyes flickered with recognition, as if he felt it too, but he masked it with that infuriating smirk.

Before I could react, he moved. One second I was standing, the next, my back slammed against the cold wall, a gasp ripping from my throat. He had me caged in, his hands braced on either side of my head, his body pressing just close enough to taunt me without touching.

"You're trembling," he noted, his voice low, almost teasing.

I forced a scoff, ignoring the wildfire spreading beneath my skin. "You wish."

His gaze flickered down to my lips, just for a second, before locking onto my eyes again. "I don't need to wish, Mariella. I already know."

My hand shot up, aiming for his smug, infuriating face, but he was faster. He caught my wrist with ease, his grip firm, his smirk deepening. "Tsk, tsk. That's not very ladylike."

I narrowed my eyes. "Neither is this."

Before he could react, I swung my other hand, slapping him hard across the face. The sound cracked through the hallway like a gunshot. His head snapped to the side, his jaw tightening. When he turned back to me, his expression was unreadable—except for the unmistakable flicker of rage in his eyes.

"You just don't learn, do you?" His voice was quiet, deadly.

His fingers wrapped around both my wrists in one swift movement, and in the next, he had them pinned above my head against the wall. I struggled, but he was stronger, his grip like iron.

He leaned in, his lips a breath away from my ear. "You like testing me, don't you?"

I met his gaze head-on, my chest rising and falling rapidly. "And you like pushing your luck."

His smirk returned, slow and taunting. "Maybe."

We stood there, locked in some twisted, dangerous standoff. His hold was firm, unrelenting, but I wasn't backing down. The air between us burned, charged with something neither of us wanted to name.

His eyes flickered down again—this time, lingering just a little longer.

I swallowed hard, hating the way my pulse betrayed me. "Let. Me. Go."

He held my gaze for a long, agonizing moment before finally releasing me. I barely had time to catch my breath before he took a step back, his smirk still in place.

"Be careful, princess," he murmured. "You keep playing with fire, you're bound to get burned."

I straightened my dress, glaring daggers at him. "Then I'll make sure to take you down with me."

Leon chuckled, low and dark. "I'd love to see you try."

He looks down at my breasts, his smirk growing, and I can feel my nipples grazing his chest. My knees weaken, and I'm grateful for the wall holding me up. He probably feels my nipples touching him, as I'm not wearing a bra. "Eyes are up here, fucker," I snap, trying to sound confident.

He looks up, his smirk still in place. "Don't flatter yourself, princess," he says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He touches the necklace Niko gifted me, his fingers grazing my collarbone, sending a wave of desire through me. I want to know what it would feel like for his fingers to touch my clit, to make me come.

My body craves it, betraying me.

He turns the necklace over, noticing the initials on the back, and his smirk disappears. His gaze locks onto mine, a fierce glare. "What's your deal with Niko Zervos?" he demands, his voice low and even.

I tease him, challenging him. "That, Leon, is none of your business," I say, my voice husky.

He looks at me, his annoyance palpable, his grip on my waist tightening. I whimper, a sound that escapes before I can control it. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Do you tend to whimper like that when Niko touches you, princess?" he whispers, the thought of Niko touching me sending an irritating wave through me.

I move before I think, my knee shooting up toward his groin, aiming to wipe that arrogant smirk off his face.

But he's faster.

Leon shifts at the last second, dodging just enough to avoid the impact. His hand snaps down, catching my thigh with a bruising grip, and before I can try again, he slams my leg back down—hard. His entire body follows, pressing into mine, pinning me flush against the wall.

A sharp gasp escapes me as the heat of him seeps through my dress, his body a wall of unrelenting strength. His breath is warm against my temple, his lips barely an inch away. Every inch of him is pressed into me, caging me in with nowhere to go, and for the first time in my life, I don't know if I want to escape.

"Feisty," he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement. His fingers dig into my thigh before trailing up, slow and deliberate, sending a violent shiver up my spine. "I like that about you, Mariella."

"Get off me," I snarl, but it sounds weak—breathless.

He chuckles, the sound low and dark, vibrating against my skin. "Funny. You don't sound like you want me to."

I want to spit something venomous, something that will break the hold he has on me, but my body betrays me. The pressure of him, the warmth, the sheer dominance in the way he holds me down—it does something wicked, something I refuse to name.

He shifts just slightly, his thigh pushing between mine, pressing against me in a way that makes my breath stutter. His smirk deepens.

"There it is," he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "That hesitation."

My nails bite into my palms as I struggle against him, but it only makes him press harder, his body a perfect cage around mine. "Fuck you," I bite out.

He tilts his head, his nose trailing down the side of my neck, agonizingly slow. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

My heart slams against my ribs, fury and something else—something far more dangerous—twisting inside me. "You're disgusting," I hiss.

"And you," he murmurs, his fingers grazing my wrist as he finally loosens his hold just slightly, "are trembling."

Damn him.

Then, he releases me, steps back, and smirks. "See you on the dance floor, princess."

And with that, he turned on his heel and walked away, leaving me standing there, breathless and furious, with the feeling of his hands still lingering on my skin.

I glare up at him, rubbing my wrist, the pressure still throbbing. He walks away, leaving me standing against the cold, smooth wall, completely out of breath and disoriented.

I watch him go, my heart still pounding.

Damn him. Damn how good he looks.

And damn how much I want to slap that smirk off his face... or maybe not.

Maybe something else.

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OHHHHRRRR?

where getting somewhere!!

*i give up on the questions*opp

Bye, lovies! (っ◔◡◔)っ

Maddie♡

*Mariella's Outfit*