Rage

♠EIGHTEEN♠

The cocktail dress is pale white with long sleeves, it has a v-neckline, showing of a little cleavage. the dress hugs my body down to the open slit at both sides revealing my lengthened legs. The heals are silver and they match the only jewelry, a silver necklace with a heart pendent.

My hair is tied in a low knotted bun with pearls while the loosed strands are curled. Thanks to Dior, i look like an angel fallen from freaking heaven.

She's holding my shoulders and i still cant believe what i see in the mirror. "All done" she says after applying the sharp red lipstick on my lips. My eyes are practically covered in black eye shadows, my skin is glowing, my brows are formally aligned and my lashes look longer with better curls.

"No" i say still shocked at what i have transformed into.

So apparently Sal wasnt kidding when he said he wanted me to loosen up a bit, the next days that passed after our fight were pretty normal, he went to work, i ate, he got back, checked his cars, he did that a hundred times a day, i wasnt glaring at him and gladly he wasnt teasing me, we had dinners together with intense stares, he had works in his office while i learned new skills with Dior.

And when he said loosen up, he meant going to a some rich people plaza, faking smiles, saying 'hi's, drinking and hoping to actually get wasted.

Dior is still working on my hair, i sit down on the bed, and i glance at her "is this really better than dieing?" I ask and she nods. "Despite his claims, Sal doesnt always offer kindness, he doesnt even, so when he does something huge like this, take it as a blessing" she says. His claims, she means how he claims to be super nice and how he thinks he's some honest selfless gentleman.

Its makes me sick, he called truce, truce it is.

I stand up after she is done with my hair, i walk downstairs while Dior saunters behind me, and just then, dark hair come into the view, his hair is laying above those thick brows, his eyes matches the grey suit and grey suit pants he is wearing above the black plain shirt. my eyes locate his and he's already taking me in, his eyes are lingering all over my body and when they trail back to my eyes i almost flinch.

"Use your words Sal" a deep voice says, Lawrence, he walks beside sal wearing a white shirt with black pants and a black coat in his hands.

Sal is shooting him a glare, while Dior is hiding back a smile. I walk down the remaining steps and Sal is still glaring at Lawrence until he walks away.

I roll my hands in a fist, pressing my thumb, hard, so hard that i think one wrong move would have it off.

"If your sending me on a death part, i'll have you know i'll survive, i'll survive every enlisted death plan you have" i say and he snaps his head to me "Why do you always assume everyone wants you dead?" He ask shoving his hands into his pocket.

"you're nobodies victim, rage. Wake up" he says.

"When it comes to you, death is always an assumption" i remind him

"Really?" He asks like he didnt already know that. "Yes" i say, concluding. "But you want me, regardless" he says smirking and watching me with curiosity. Such a flirt

"No, I dont want you" i say.

"Not even dead?" He asks and im voiceless, he blabs nonsense. "Exactly, you want me, you want me so you can have my face ripped off remember?" He pushes a strand of my hair away "you want me so you could do as you wish" he smiles, with every sentence he says, each hit louder like stormy thunders

"no, let me rephrase that, you need me" he shakes his head. "Rage, Im more important to you than you may think" he says and his hands are under my chin and my skin burns under his touch