Skyscrapers Fall |18+|

Part VIII

| VITO |

"So how much did her dress cost you?" Giasone slurs, bringing a bottle of vodka to his lips and chugging, choking down its contents. Giasone is like a brother to me, I'd trust him with my life; but since our little disagreement the other day, he's still sporting a black eye and broken rib.

We had seated ourselves in the sitting room at the bottom the staircase, most of my men had arrived by now and we we're only waiting for one person.

Daisy.

"Doesn't matter how much it costed, she's taking her sweet time," Pigeon, another one of my men, chirps in, picking at his freshly painted nails. The idea of patience is something unfamiliar to Pigeon, as are most things.

I've not known Pigeon for nearly as long as I've known Giasone but he's proven to be a valuable asset.

"She'll be down soon," I say with certainty, ripping the bottle of vodka out of Giasone's hands and placing it on the table in front of us. I don't want him to drink too much and embarrass himself before we've even got there.

As if on cue, the doors at the top of the staircase open, revealing my princess.

"Holy shit, bro," Jason whispers, echoing my exact thoughts.

The dress is beautiful, but no more beautiful than the woman wearing it. The moment she enters the room, all eyes are drawn to her and I'm suddenly grateful that most of my men have left already, since I want to be the only one allowed to witness her beauty.

My eyes take their time wandering over her body, savouring the sight with each step she takes. I realise in that moment that Pigeon was right, the cost of the dress is irrelevant, any girl could invest in the most expensive designer gown in existence and still be put to shame by Daisy.

Because no amount of money can buy beauty like that.

And no other woman could possibly compare.

"D-do I look okay?" Daisy breaks the silence once she reaches the final stair, her eyes darting between the men sat either side of me. My jaw tics.

She shouldn't be seeking approval from other men. Only me.

I choose that moment to stand, offering her my arm as I walk her to the limousine waiting outside. I try my best to avoid looking at her, worried I might do or say something stupid.

She follows my inside the vehicle with no complaints, nerves radiating off her as she fidgets with her fingers.

"You just haven't said anything yet and I don't want to embarrass you-"

"Put this on." I interrupt, handing her a decorative, dark-green mask. A similar colour to her dress.

"It's a masquerade ball," I clarify, finally turning to look at her, "the different colours mean different things."

"What does mine mean?" She asks, tracing the intricate design with her forefinger.

"Green means you're affiliated with the mafia through marriage but you don't involve yourself," I say, watching her as she slips on the mask, "there's going to be a lot of dangerous people so stay with me at all times."

I watch as a look of confusion slowly etched it's way onto her face, "I'm not married," she says sternly.

I open my mouth to speak and then shut it again, considering my next words carefully, "it's the safest option," I say, breaking our eye contact, "as far as anyone knows you're my fiancée."

"Absolutely not!" She retorts, ripping the mask off her face and throwing it back to me, "I'm not playing couples with you, Vito!"

My stomach churns at the sound of her name from my lips and suck in a deep breath, "didn't I just tell you there's going to be dangerous people, I'm doing this for your own safety."

She rolls her eyes but takes the mask from me, putting it back on her face and I though I'd love to correct her little attitude, I decide not to push it any more.

"What are the other colours then?" She asks.

"Red masks mean affiliated with the mafia through blood, Blue masks are for those who have worked their way into the mafia but bear no relation, Purple masks are businessmen who claim to have a "clean" business and White masks are for anyone who has no involvement with the mafia."

I look over at her to gage her reaction, my eyes briefly flicking down to her lips. I can see her next question coming from a mile away.

"And what does black mean?" She asks, gesturing to the mask in my hands.

"You're to stay away from anyone in a black mask," I answer, "except for me of course." I flash her a smirk and pray that she won't press it any further, she's already scared of me as it is, though she's been remarkably well behaved so far this evening. I'll be sure to reward later her if it continues.

My biggest concern is whether or not I can behave around her dressed like that. Especially with other men eye-fucking her all evening.

"Vito," Daisy says, breaking me out of my thoughts, "I'm scared."

I take her face in my hands gently stroke her cheek, watching as she leans right into my touch. There's a good girl.

"You've got nothing to be scared of, gattina," I breathe, leaning down to kiss the side of her neck, "as long as you stay with me, I'll make sure you're well protected."

She nods and I continue to pepper kisses up and down her neck, taking a chunk in between my teeth and biting down, another way to mark my property.

She lets out a soft moan but, to my surprise, she doesn't try to resist, allowing me to mark her supple flesh.

I'll make sure she's on my arm all evening, never leaving my side but I know how many dangerous men will be present tonight and I need to ensure they all know she's off-limits.

The Vasiliev Winter Ball is one of the most exclusive events in existence and I make sure to attend to every year. Never once have I brought a date.

"Are you ready, gattina?" I ask, slipping on my mask as the limousine pulls into park. She tentatively nods and takes my hand, allowing me to guide her out the door. Excitement and anticipation burn through my body knowing what's in store this evening.

It'll be a night to remember.

____________________

This is such a boring chapter I do apologise.
Tryna get back into the swing of things.