The proposal's proposal
Alessandro Ajello loomed above the vibrant dance floor from his perch in the VIP lounge, in one of the many clubs he owned. His piercing gaze locked onto her as she settled into a seat, and a thrill of anticipation coursed through him.
-That's her, Gavinni's sister. The one they're pusing you to marry- Salvatore, his right hand man informed.
It wasn't uncommon for families to propose their daughters or sisters to him, but this was different. This was an enciting proposal wrapped in the promise of a new pipeline for money laundering and weapon deals.
Beside him, Salvatore raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched across his face. Alessandro was notorious for his one night stands; the idea of marrying was wild, even for him. No matter how pretty she was, it was well spread that the Don didn't settle down.
His attention snapped to her brother's bodyguard, a familiar figure from past negotiations.
Alessandro's eyes narrowed as he observed her, laughing and chatting animatedly with her friends. The words flew around, something about hoping he was rich and handsome. He chuckled inwardly; gold digger, certainly not his type.
But then, he caught the flicker of her expression as her friends turned away. Her cheerful facade crumbled in an instant, replaced by a mask of indifference that sent a shiver down his spine. She was a chameleon, shifting identities with such ease it was was almost unsettling.
Maybe it was her survival strategy, maybe she found pleasure on having control.
As her friends spun back to her, the brightness returned to her face, but Alessandro could see through her act now.
He turned to Salvatore, a decision made.
-Call Gavinni. Tell him i said yes... she could be a valuable asset.
-Are you sure, Don? There will be speculation, rumors about your motives.
-Let them speculate.
-A wife is quite the responsability, Don. She'd expect to be taken care of, treated well.
-She won't go wanting. But make no mistake, she'll know her place.
Alessandro exhales a slow stream of smoke from his cigarette, the ember glowing red in the dim light. His eyes track her movements with predatory focus as she laughs. And for a tiny second, her eyes met his before looking away slowly.
-You think she knows?- Salvatore asks quietly, watching his intense expression.
The Don smirks, swirling his whiskey glass idly.
-No one tells bambina anything important. Yet.
His knuckles tighten around the glass at another burst of her laughter floating up from the dance floor. Too bright, too hollow. The mask again. It makes his blood hum like a struck guitar string.
Salvatore sighs and pulls out his phone to make a call while Alessandro leans forward slighty, just enough for her to feel unseen eyes on her skin through the crowd noise and the flashing lights...
The moment her gaze suddenly lifts and meets Alessandro's through the haze of cigarette smoke and strobe lights, her false laughter freezing on red-stained lips. His chest tightens.
That split second of startled eye contact is more electrifying than any gunfight or deal gone wrong.
Salvatore murmurs into the phone beside him:
-Gambini? Sì, the Don accepts.
But Alessandro isn't listening anymore. His whiskey glass hits the table with a sharp clink as he rises from his chair.
Those ridiculous heels she's wearing will put her at what, 5'8? He licks his teeth imagining how small she'll look when he crowds her against a wall later.
-Call my tailor- He interrumpts Salvatore without looking away from her eyes- Tell him to starts sewing red into a wedding dress.
Red for bloodlines. Red for warning shots fired at dawn weddings where no one actually says 'I do'
