Pretty Poison

Thirty - Six

The ride is quiet, but the outside environment is enough to keep me entertained. I run my fingers through the black fabric of the dress, the fabric reaching all the way to the floor. I peer down at my chest, the V-line reaching past my sternum. The brodice is tight around my chest, causing my breasts to appear full. This by far has to be my favorite dress, it's so simplistic yet elegant and charming.

Luca wore what he always did, a perfectly pressed suit jacket, white shirt, and tie. His fluffy dark umber locks are brushed back, yet still appears messy and classy. As I stare longer, I notice black highlights every so often. He has his hands tightly on the steering wheel, his watch on full display on his wrist. I watch as the hands tick every second, the embroidered diamond edge sparkling under the faint sunlight.

The city comes into view a moment later, the lights already shining with a looming aura of a yellow glow. The cathedral stands tall above all else in the expansive metropolis, but it soon disappears as we drive into the city.

The engine of the Lamborghini echos through the streets as Luca drives slowly, people turning their heads as they always did. The streets bustled with people, children playing in front of compact apartments and couples on dates in front of restaurants. I smile out of the transparent glass at the undeniable beauty of humankind. How can man be so evil yet so beautiful at the same time?

Luca pulls to the side of the street, parallel parking between two older cars. He steps out of the lowered interior and helps me with a supporting hand on the other side, closing the door that opened upwards with high class. He takes my hand in his, locking the car twice with a press of a button on his keys, and leads me away from the car.

Part of me felt out of place in such fancy clothes. Everyone else wore comfortable attire, but everywhere we went we got stares from those around us. I even heard a little girl tell her mom that I was a princess, and I only smiled at that, my insides warming.

We walked across an empty street, ending up at a fancy boutique cafe. The people here seemingly dressed nicer, their clothes consisting of nice dress shirts and pressed pants and evening dresses.

We walk up to a booth and are met with a server.

"A table for two, grazie," Luca says sweetly.

The server nods, "Right this way, Signore Bianchi," I flinch in shock for a moment that the server knows him.

Everywhere we go, everyone knows him. Every person he talked to, they knew him, it was as if everyone was his servant.

The man walks us to a small table, an umbrella covering it with a detached pole. In the middle, a faint candle light glows with gorgeous flowers resting around the glass holding the wax. Luca takes a seat after pulling out my chair, the server handing us both expansive menus.

"Buon appetito," the server orates, bowing his head then leaving.

"How does everyone know you?" I inquired, looking up from my menu to see Luca instantly staring at his.

He puts his down a second later at the sound of my voice, "My family used to come here a lot, much less now, but, my family is good friends with the owners of this place, so naturally everyone here knows who I am."

"Fascinating," I say, placing my elbow on the table and returning to peer down at my menu.

I feel Luca's gaze on me for a moment longer, then the warmth disappears as he, too, reads through the dozens of options printed on the laminated paper.

"Ciao, Signore Bianchi, may I start you off with a bottle of red wine?" A server asks, casually marching to our table with a notepad and pen.