Poison Raven

“Sir, I will pick a dress when I’m done. Could you please excuse me for a moment?” I bite out, a little bit surrendering my defenses to my boss.

“I’ll let you dress up, Raven, but I must remind you, we have limited time,” he says to me like a perfect gentleman that he's not because why would he intentionally barge while I just got out of the bathroom?

I debate in my mind as I watch him leave the room. Finally, the door closes, and I sigh with relief.

It's a total bummer. What does my boss want from me? If Dimitri were here, he would assume that I'm seducing the boss when I have no idea how to lead a man on.

Fucking nitwit, I curse out loud.

...

I'm striding down the hallway wearing a fucking black body dress and a killer badass hat that has a creative short fringe, something that models on a fashion runway wear.

Not just that, I'm wearing black long gloves since the dress is strapless and has a deep V-cut over my cleavage.

And I don't want to start with my heels, they are a pair of sleek designers, certainly.

With Raina’s help, I straightened my hair and she did my makeover. Raina is many things in one body.

I descend the stairs like a princess going to meet her prince at the foot of the stairway.

What is this birthday party that I have to attend looking like I already stole the spotlight? I ask myself, looking forward.

And there you have my boss, Dimitri, and Tommy staring at me intently like I'm a trophy.

The other men are situated almost everywhere in the room and I believe outside the mansion too.

I hold the railing tightly not to trip over it ‘cause that would be embarrassing.

My boss is smiling halfway, probably thinking of the bittersweet things to do to me.

Once I'm standing in front of my boss with a straight face, he speaks up.

“Raven? We are running late, let’s move!” he sternly says to me like the employee that I am.

Yeah, why did I expect a little ‘you look pretty’ from him when he's absolutely a Mafia boss and the CEO of one of the best companies?

That answers it; I'm just a P. A here to seal a deal, right?

He offers a hand and I slowly take it while the others walk away after Dimitri had fired me a blank expression.

Honestly, that guy needs rehab.

I feel my boss’s hand around my waist and my body starts to quiver but I do all I can to act tough as we head out of the building.

He's very close to me and his cologne is just another bodysuit as someone opens the door for us.

When we are seated, the boss asks me.

“You didn't wear red?”

“It was ripped,” I snap. I met it torn and it looked like something someone would do on purpose.

He chuckles without looking my way.

“Black always remedies for anything wild and dangerous, Raven!” he casually says to me and stays silent afterward.

I knew it, the red dress was ripped on purpose because he knew that I would pick red.

I hate my fucking life.

…

Without a word, we arrived at the venue, I believe.

As soon as we step out of the car, I see a colossal building with so many lights and greenery on most of the corners. It looks like a hall—a ball dance hall.

I'm walking with my arm wrapped around my boss’s arm his date. Just like what other couples are doing.

One crazy part is, I'm the only one wearing a black dress and practically all eyes are on me.

My tongue clicks lightly as we enter the large hall.

A setting that could send your mind ablaze. It has this operatic aesthetics that these rich men like to hang around in.

Daphne and I wouldn't be here in this type of place, we’d rather be in a club dancing and drinking the fuck out.

While Dimitri is tailing us and the other men spread out, someone I recognize approaches us.

“Ehi amico,” says Fausto, our new business partner, with a friendly smile dazzling in his shiny suit. One of those old skool aesthetics of the ‘80s.

“Come stai, Fausto?” my boss replies in Italian too as they shake hands.

Okay, I've looked up simple pleasantries in Italian and I know that they are simply greetings.

“I see you brought her,” Fausto narrows his gaze at me and back to my boss.

“Yeah, she is… my guest. Where's the birthday boy, I heard he has his—” My boos looks around and back to Fausto and lowers his voice. “Men scattered around,” he says.

“You should expect that Don Vittorio likes his parties guarded and within a system. But her, isn't it risky for her to be here? I mean,” Fausto paused.

“Mio amico, let’s tone it down a bit. I don't want to scare ‘my raven’, I want her to have a good time,” my boss rubs my side a bit to convince Fausto that I'm really oblivious and didn't deserve to know a thing.

I look away, fed up with their secrecy.

“I’ll see you around,” Fausto says to my boss and stares at me with profoundness. “You too, Ms. May!” he walks off.

I give a small smile as my boss turns fully to me.

“Want something to drink?”

“I don't drink,” I lie.

“Oh, I could introduce you to a good wine, the finest there is in Rome…” he says casually as we walk off to a table reserved for us as expected.

After he talks to a waiter to get us something he insists on, I see Dimitri leaning towards the boss’s ear.

Dimitri whispers something to Clyde and they both look slightly pissed and concerned.

I wave off their expressions to focus on the place instead.

The waiter returns and Dimitri receives the glasses, handing them to us.

The boss sniffs it and takes a sip from his.

“You should have mine instead,” he says to me, taking my glass. I don't say a word, I just obey. He wouldn't kill me, I told myself for now.

He sniffs mine and his face squeezes as Dimitri frowns, taking the glass from him to sniff it.

The same thing happens and that seems like a problem.

“The drink was poisoned,” Dimitri announces to me and my heart drops.