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"I like you, in my t-shirt." his voice was low. Dark. Hot.
"I prefer it on the bedroom floor." I tease, although, it wasn't really a joke.
"Ah, you make this so hard for me." he sounded angry, yet he never raised his voice.
"What's...
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My dress hugged my waist tightly, while flowing off my hips. It was black. The deepest, darkest shade of black you could think of, the slit running down my leg was the only thing powerful enough to break its darkness. It was beautiful. It's silk was cold yet warm, heavy yet free. It slipped off my skin yet somehow stayed in the most perfect position.
Upon my chest lay a necklace; a necklace that holds such a dear yet tragic memory it would be wrong to ever take it off.
It's chain was thin and silver and it carried one letter, M.
*Cecilia Blair Rodriguez, if you Matteo and Anastasia don't get back here right no-" her voice faded into the distance as we sped recklessly down the grand corridors of our home. Out of breath and tired, we stopped under the staircase leading up to the west wing, hiding from the possible people my mother had sent to find us. Once we caught our breath we took one look at each other and and in an instant we were laughing until we were gasping for air. We sat under that staircase for what felt like a lifetime, exchanging the occasional giggle here and there. Erik, one of father's security, finally found us some time later, and dragged me up and towards my fathers office. Before I entered I smirked at both Matteo and Anastasia, and as if on command, they both mouthed 'Good luck'...*
A subtle knock at my door broke my reminiscence, I used the mirror to let myself see who was there and I was still half stuck in my memory when a stunning royal blue gown slipped through my now open doors.
Anastasia's Mouse brown hair and contagious smile instantly lightened my mood, she was always good at that. She effortlessly glided over to me so we were both now staring at our reflections. She went to speak but bit her tongue, I looked at her a smiled due to the fact that she knew I knew what she was going to say.
We both let out a weak laugh as she took my hand and squeezed it. One action can say a thousand words.
Still with her hand in mine, we ran down the everlasting corridor of our home towards the ballroom awaiting for our arrival.
Every year my father holds a ball, in order to form allies and boost connections. It's like a business convention but with dancing and expensive champagne. I've always deemed them as pointless, why would you voluntarily spend time with your 'enemies'? I would never understand.
Our running slowed as we neared the ebony doors that lay ahead of us. Erik-one of my fathers men-began to heave them open until he saw the hesitancy that had just washed over Anastasia's face. She breathed deeply and slightly turned to face me and took my hand in hers once again.
"Don't kill anyone," she whispered "please?" I handed her a comforting look alongside my sarcastic tone,
"What do you mean?" the question ran through her ears making her giggle.
