Carlotta Angela Vasiliev is a 17 year old girl living with her adoptive Russian mafia family of 4 brothers and father. Ever since she was a child, she's had no sense of belonging, abused by the Swedish mafia in her youth, her Russian saviours are th...
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I eye my closet in front of me, trying to find an 'appropriate' outfit for tonight's dinner.
Which is in... t-minus 10 minutes.
Great.
The boys left earlier today after they finished swimming.
Well- to be fair they didn't 'leave'.
I kicked their asses out of the house after they made fun of me for crying over my book.
Boys have no emotional intelligence and will never understand the pain of relationships in books.
I move over to my dresses, remembering Angelo telling me this is a formal dinner, and to dress up a little. That's basically code for 'I want to make a good impression on these people', which I appreciate nonetheless.
I eye a black silk mini dress and smirk in satisfaction.
Is it formal? Yes.
Is it a bombass outfit? Yes.
And the real seller, will it piss off two sets of mafia brothers? Double yes.
I grab the dress from its hanger and slip on over my lacy bra and undies, eyeing myself in the mirror, satisfied with my outfit.
I put my hair in a low messy bun and added a pearl necklace and earrings to my outfit.
I leave my makeup on which I did earlier in the day, only adding a swipe of lipgloss.
I hear a knock on my bedroom door, just as I'm about to get ready to go downstairs.
Before I can even say 'come in', Romeo bounds through the door, looking giddy.
"Wanna hear my word of the day?" He smiles cheesily at me.
"What's the point of knocking if you're just going to barge in anyways?" I announce, frustrated.
"I dunno." He dismisses, "Anyway, I tried telling the others and they punched me so I figured you'd wanna hear it!" He says hopefully, making my anger towards him dissipate slightly.
I smile before rolling my eyes playfully, "Go on then." I encourage him, making him grin widely.
"Exasperate, to cause irritation or annoyance to someone or to excite the anger of someone." He says, making me cringe at the meaning.
"Shit... that's not foreboding or anything." I comment sarcastically, making Romeo himself cringe at the thought.
"Yeah... I have a feeling tonight's dinner will be exasperating." He says, testing the word on his tongue.
"Wow, way to reassure me." I deadpan, making him chuckle and lift his hands in surrender as he backs out of my room, "Hey! Someone's gotta be the pessimist in the family." And with that, he was out the door.
