Alora Imari has the face of an angel, but the body of a vixen. She's feared by all. Her and her elder brother, Giovanni Imari, were passed down the family business; becoming mobsters for the Italian mafia.
Many describe Alora as being heartless and...
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Punch after punch after punch.
Yet, I'm still smiling.
As one of these Russian dudes land another punch to my abdomen, I try my hardest not to show any signs of pain. I groan, of course, but I smile. I smirk and grin and laugh and drive them absolutely batshit crazy.
They have Gio and I hung from our wrists and are giving us the time of our lives.
Gio and I have always been known as the psychopathic twins. If we get shot, we laugh. If we get punched, we smile. There could be blood running down our face but we don't give a fuck. It drives everyone up the wall and they retaliate even harder. We don't give a fuck. It's fun fucking around with people.
"Ah, what a sight to behold. Avi, looking as beautiful as ever and Giovanni, did you get a haircut?" Ivankov walks towards us and into the very dim light. This looks like a classic horror movie. Yet, we're all fucking crazy.
"Yeah, actually. You're actually the first one to notice. My barber's name is Jonathan. I could give you his number," Gio rambles. I laugh and Ivankov gives an unsightly grin.
"Vy govorite slishkom mnogo," he growls. Ivankov runs his fingers through my hair and rubs the strands through two of his fingers. "Blonde, hm? You sure look like you're having more fun." [you talk too much]
"Mm, I really am. Almost had too much fun killing all your men tonight." I wink at him and blow a kiss.
He roughly grabs my ear and plays with it between his fingers. "What do you say I turn you into Picasso?"
I cough and whip my head to the side. "Van Gogh."
"Huh?"
"Van Gogh cut off his ear, dumbass," I say. "If you're gonna try to intimidate me, at least get your fucking facts straight."
He grabs my chin between his forefinger and thumb. His nose subtly nudges mine and as I try to turn away, he secures his grip even harder. Ensuring my demise, I spit in his face—with a little blood for flavor.
He flinches and drops my chin to wipe his cheek. My head whips to the side and my cheek feels hot—this motherfucker just backhanded me.
"Damn, I didn't know you were into that rough shit," I say while smirking. Next to me, Gio snorts but 'covers it up' with a cough.
"Conosceranno l'italiano?" Gio asks as he peeks over to me. [would they know italian?]
"Sono russi. Tutto quello che sanno è vodka e orsi," I say. They all stare at us as if we're speaking Mandarin. If only we were to bust that out. [they're russian. all they know is vodka and bears. ]
"Hey!" Ivankov snaps. "Shut up with your fucking Italian bullshit. "Ya sobirayus' izuchat' ital'yanskiy," he mutters under his breath. [i'm going to learn italian]
