4- Lucille

“I just want to make it clear that I did not support any of this before you go on your rampage,” Damien's voice is soothing to hear now since we are surrounded by hundreds of other people that I do not enjoy.

I don't bother to reply and I know he does not expect one so he continues, “You are aware that your Father sent you to gather information—”

“With my cock.”

“... At the very least, you're listening but you are aware that we have no plan, yes? You flew us here all of a sudden in a hurry and—”

I tune out that part, my interest at holding a conversation with anyone else gone as my eyes stay focused on the belle of the evening. Eve Bianchi floats through the ballroom in a light pink gown that fits her flawlessly, its beaded bodice accentuating her curves. As she moves, her steps are graceful like a butterfly, her smile bright enough to light up the entire room which it does, while her manners are polite and courteous.

She knows she is loved by every person whose eyes find hers and she wears her charm with pride.

“You really aren't even trying to be discreet about it.” Damien's voice pulls me away from my thoughts and for a brief moment, I pay him attention. As I do so, he sighs at my final acknowledgment of his presence. “You keep staring at her like you want to fuck her, or kill her.”

“Both.” The person I had met at the bakery is not the same dainty version of this woman that has every person here wishing to go close to her like moths to flame, unaware of their impending death if they get too close. Look at me, I only stayed around for a few seconds and I burned from her light.

“Okay?” When he pauses and realizes I do not plan to give any explanations, he lets out another sigh and says, “Of course, no explanations—”

“May I speak with you, Lucille?”

For a second, I wonder how she got behind me without alarming Damien or I, and the male looks surprised as well before I turn around to look at her.

Eve Bianchi's face bore the softest of smiles, every telltale sign of the person I met gone. All I see is what she wants people to believe she is. A Mafia Princess.

“Of course.”

I can already sense Damien's distress by my response. We are in a public place and whatever happens to her would be blamed on me if we speak so openly but I do not care as I let myself mirror the smile she wears, bowing in response.

Eve notices this but she says nothing as she snakes her arm around mine, making sure to keep her smile steady as we both walk through the crowd of people staring at us before we reach a hallway devoid of people and she pulls away, all traces of tranquility gone, “I need your hand in marriage.”

I feel my smile begin to grow as I rest on the wall and fold my hands. “I have never been proposed to but I understand that my face has that effect on people.”

“I can tell you only make these jokes around me. Why? Is it because I'm a woman and you don't find me worthy enough to hold an intellectual conversation with me or you only are all brawn and no brain?”

“Keep talking like that, baby. I just need an excuse to bash your head in. Just one.”

Though I say this with a chuckle, she knows that I mean my words. I watch her pause now, her eyes centering on me with an iciness that makes me wonder why she pretends around others because she looks fierce, like a good fuck would calm her down as she says, “I am to be wed soon to a man that wishes to inherit my Father's position. Though I do not wish to challenge him on this, Adam is weak against my Father's orders. I need my freedom and I know you can give me that.”

Ah. Not a good fuck. A mental asylum. “You know this?”

“You are reckless, the complete opposite of what he'd accept.” Her voice comes out emotionless now, deadpan. “The best thing I can hope for now is that he disowns me after my show of disobedience.”

I want to tell her that she is being impulsive, like a brat child wanting to rebel by any means necessary and I unfortunately hold no interest for children. “What is in all of this for me? You are the only one with a benefit.”

“Anything.”

There is a way she says this that makes me know she means her words. A small laugh comes out of my mouth but soon enough, it is louder, my hand going over my face to stifle it before I say, “Shoot me.”

The cold mask drops and she blinks, half in shock, half in is he mad? “What?”

I know she heard me so I do not bother to repeat myself. I stand there, staring at her before I say under my breath, “You are pathetic. If you crave attention so badly, be a good girl and —”

I hear the sound of a gunshot before I feel it. The burn of a bullet sizzling on the side of my arm has me pausing as I realize she has a gun in her hand now, her eyes sharp now as it pulses with desire that makes my cock throb lightly as she says, “I'd rather be a good wife and do as you ordered. Husband.”

My brain still tries to comprehend what had just happened as I watch her tuck the gun down the stockings she wears under her dress as the sound of people running towards us echo around. Immediately, her emotionless face breaks away and she's panicking as well, her eyes soft and doe-eyed as she rushes to meet, “God, are you okay?”

“What happened?” Someone in the crowd asks.

My eyes stay on her. She begins to hyperventilate, her face growing redder as she stutters, “I… I shot him but it was a mistake. I would never— I thought it was a prop. It just fired off and—” The rest of her words, I do not hear any of it. People surround her, my bleeding arm no longer their concern as they see how she is, believing now that she is suddenly traumatized.

“Fuck, what did you do?”

As I turn to Damien, I stare at the blood streaming down my arm. It is the first time I look at my blood, really look at it and I answer under my breath, “This time, nothing.” Then I turn back to him, grinning now. “Isn’t that exciting?”