Eros: A Game Of Wits (A Mafia Novel)

29. Honour the acquaintance

Jason straightened his dark vest over his white dress shirt. He examined himself in the mirror as he fixed his tie. The day had finally come and just like he promised, he was ready to leave.

He had already received the information as to where the funeral will take place and he would be escorted by Zane.

He looked down at his feet, running a hand through his blond locks with a sigh. He felt bad about the girl, more so because he was aware he was the one responsible for their passing. Of course he wasn't going to fret over something like that, besides, this wasn't the first time he sent people to meet their maker. It was never personal. He knew that the reason behind him feeling so stressed is because of this one person he never wished to see crying. He never wanted to account for it.

Florence...

He would finally see her. He will finally get to touch her, even if it's just for a little bit, he will be satisfied. It seemed as though it's been so long, but finally, he has an excuse, a pathetic excuse, but still an excuse to see her beautiful face, to fixate upon those sparkly green eyes.

Hearing the knock on the door Jason looked up at the reflection the mirror provided to see Zane peeking his head inside. "It's time."

A wave of confidence washed over him. The youth turned around, giving his friend a soft smirk. "Let's go."

***

Florence grabbed her chocolate locks away from her face, fixing it in a soft bun to keep the heat from taking its toll on her. She glanced up at the mirror and she regretted ever pulling her hair up. It was easier to see her pale complexion. At least the curtain of hair helped shadow her red eyes.

With a tired sigh, she opened a drawer from under the mirror, taking out the entire make-over necessities. She had to give herself some color since she was already engulfed in black. Her dress, although simple, it was easily flowing around her; it was elegant, hugging her waist but free from the waist down, leaving her hips to swing, not restricting her movements.

With a sigh, she applied a bit of foundation and gave her cheeks a healthy tint of pink. She applied mascara, toning her already long eyelashes to help shadow her glassy eyes a bit better. She left her lips for last. She wasn't one that really considered red lipstick as a must-have but she had one anyway. She applied the ruby color on her plump lips, feeling blessed to have it right now. It was gifting her with a much healthier look despite creating a more serious, aristocratic version of herself.

Knowing she was ready, she sighed.

She was tired, very tired. She didn't know why she would cry this much but she did, all night, without stopping until Morpheus engulfed her in his clouds without her consent. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that she was left alone; Molly took the kids back to their house so they can prepare for the funeral early. Perhaps, it had to do with her suppressing her feelings for so long that she finally broke down last night. She was emotionally drained. She wanted to be strong for Molly and Braxton and Allie but it was very exhausting pushing her own feelings aside.

She always thought that coming here would be interesting and only good things would come of it. She never imagined she would be this wrong.

With one final look at her reflection, she took her black pumps from the floor and headed downstairs. After she wore her pumps she grabbed her bag and left for the funeral into her shiny Mustang, knowing Molly was already there.

It didn't take long before she reached the cemetery where people still arrived. The music was loud enough to reach her ears even at this distance. She got off the car with her head up high trying to source the sound. She didn't know where she had to go so she followed after a family, convinced they were heading to the funeral just like she did; they all wore black and bore serious, grieving faces.