g l o s s a r y

'Chamo' (origin: Venezuelan slang) ~ Bro or dude

'Mama Guevo' (origin: Venezuelan slang) ~ Cocksucker

Cloaked by a veil of darkness, he sat above the swaying crowd, situated amongst four figures who didn't pay as much attention down at the mob who pressed themselves together so tight they all became one. One large sweaty, drunken, horny bunch.

Luca tapped his shoe. Barely apart of the conversation, his friends engaged themselves with. No, not at all.

In his throne of a chair like a king, the only thing amiss was the crown which should have sat atop his coal hair. Idly and impassively he sipped the horrid whiskey neat in his crystal glass with his hazel eyes like thunder trained solely on nothing.

He was the sharpest of thorns in both intellect and in the way he kept himself guarded. As blank as a printer sheet his attractive chiseled face was as always relieved of all facial expressions.

To his immediate right sat Nikolai, Prince of Moshisk, a childhood friend and the eldest of the five. He thrived in the night club's party scene and called for another drink from a passing waitress who he ogled like a man who'd been without food for days. It was his tenth and they'd only just arrived.

Next to the Prince not so charming was the youngest who ironically towered the five with an impressive height of 6'6. Zev as he was nicknamed, was half asleep in the corner having smoked another joint. His arm clanked with the excessive amount of watches he wore, each more high tech than the next, something he was quite pleased with, having fiddled with them himself.

Left of the scowling leader sat the only female of the group, Ezra, one half of the twin duo and aspiring New York fashion designer. The girl sat watchful of the Prince with eyes like hearts. The other half of the twin duo sat by her side, Estevan and he elbowed his younger sister by two minutes in the side to stop her staring. She, in turn, sent him a sharp look.

All five who were in actuality friends were more like family than family was family.

"¡Chamo! are you just going to sulk the whole night?" Ezra fussed like a two-year-old, pushing her Fenty lipstick painted lips in the color "Ma'Damn royal red" into a pout.

Luca grunts.

He would sulk the whole night indeed. After all, he had not been in the mood to come out and party however upon the constant insistence of the yappy blonde Ezra, he'd gave in with a face like the taste of lemons....sour.

Personally, he would have preferred to spend the evening, doing the lovely mile-high stacks of approvals, requests and other doodads that decorated his desk at Donario Enterprises like a woman dressed in barely-there lingerie. But, unfortunately, his friends had wanted to celebrate.

When they asked earlier, he'd replied. "Celebrate what?" He was unsure if he'd forgotten a birthday, perhaps an arrangement. That happened sometimes when one worked as hard as he did.

The question had earned him a look equivalent to a spank on the bottom and not the thrilling, kinky kind either.

"You being engaged." The girl had cried in a tone that asked if it wasn't obvious. She then proceeded to butcher him with Venezuelan curse words that if he hadn't been fluent in would have thought she was reciting to him poems of love.

Persistence from her part, more persistence from her counterpart Estevan, an easy smile from easy-going Zev and Nikolai's smug smirk after he had deemed that Luca Donario 'would never part from his precious desk' finally got Luca to leave the glass paradise of Donario Enterprises.

So now here he was. Celebrating an engagement he wanted nothing to do with, with a woman he'd yet to ever lay Cognac shaded eyes on.

And not for the last time he wondered. Why had he agreed to such a thing?

Was he so willing to give up his freedom to pay back a debt he so desperately wanted to rid himself of?

The answer was conflictingly clear, he would, to receive freedom he would have to give freedom.

"Earth to Luca, I'm talking to you." Ezra snapped her slender fingers in front the shadowed face of Luca essentially dragging him back to the heart thumping club scene.

He slid his eyes up to her V shaped face that was framed by shimmeringly straight hair a blond that was almost pink like strawberries.

Luca scowled. "I'm here."

"Sureeee you are..." She drawled and rolled misty grey eyes after suckling down her fifth White Russian. "You so need to liven up chamo. It's a party after all. You know what I swear if you don't liven up so help me God I will smother you."

Luca rolled his eyes as if playing an intense game of snakes and ladders and they were dice and not sense organs.

Nikolai now paying attention to his own table and not the skimpily clad women strolling by, muttered against the rim of his glass. "I'd love to be smothered."

His hyacinth blue eyes followed the abyss that was her cleavage. Ezra flushed while Estevan frowned as all alcohol evaporated immediately from his system, he slammed his glass down as he pointed his finger at Nico.

"Aye, tipo, ¿qué dijiste hace rato? ¡Mama Guevo!"

Nico raised his hands as if to protect himself from the fire cracker that was Estevan. "Chill, chill! It's a joke, Esa."

Zev snickered, sinking further into the leather couch as he blew out another cloud of smoke. His green eyes hooded as he muses. "It would be a joke if it wasn't true, Nico. But we all know you'd fuck anything with a vagina and tits."

Though a harsh statement, it was no false accusation.

Quickly he side-eyed Ezra and makes a show of biting his tongue. "Apologies, Ez. You are by no means just vagina and tits or an easy lay."

She waved him off with the bird.

"Firstly, fuck you guys. I'm not the only one here who will go at anything that shows feminine characteristics." Nico jutted his thumb at Luca. "This asshole has a higher body count than I do."

"Yeah, but at least he has some standards," Esa grumbles, warily glancing at Luca who furrows his brows.

"Only some standards?" Luca snickered.

Nico gasped, a hand over his chest. "I have standards-"

Luca shook his head at his group. It was always an event whenever he hung out with friends and tonight was no exception.

Another sip of burning liquor slides down his throat as he despite the kaleidoscope of disco lights and the sheeted dark of the club caught sight of a sultry woman by the bar.

She was mesmerizing even from such a distance.

She sat like he did, except perched on her throne of a barstool, radiating brilliant confidence and most appealing to him. A thrilling darkness.

It was almost as if she had casted a line and drew him in.

She, the bait and he, the hunter.

And without a word to inform his friends, he set his drink down and submitted to the siren's song. Luca made his way pass waiters and other members of the elite VIP section of the club, ignoring the grasping and outstretched talons of women who called out to him.

He went past the velvet ropes and big, burly bouncers which denied entrance to people who didn't qualify for the VIP social requirements. Buttoning up his suit jacket, he sure-footed down the glass stairs and weaves through the crowd towards her.

As the woman at the crowded bar shooed another victim of hers away he slid up next to her. And for the first time since being dragged to the club, his impassive expression gave way to a lustful smirk as he gazed the babe.

She was a sure sight to see and it was no wonder she attracted men like sharks to blood. The woman in this light seemed to have dark golden brown hair that changed shade with each flip and toss she made during movement. She had an impressionable face, with a dimpled chin, errorless skin and a cute Cupid bow's mouth that reflected light due to its glossiness. A sultry seductress was one way to describe her, in her itty bitty latex dress and she shimmered like glitter under the strobe lights.

"Luca Donario," he introduced. The succubus turns her head and cocks her brow, her emeralds bored. "May I buy you another drink?"

She sighed but barely batted a lash at him. It was quite intriguing for him.

"If you won't be my guest, big guy."

"Karl," he subtly jutted his chin out in a call, his eyes however never leaving the feminine beauty who herself looked at him as if he were a common rock. "another drink for the lady."

She grinned deviously and said whilst setting aside her Sex On The Beach. "Actually, Karl, I'll have a......platinum passion. I mean if that's alright with you, Mr. Donario?"

The Platinum Passion, certified by the International Association of Bartending (IAB) is one of New York's hottest, most expensive, novelty drinks and the price markup of a single glass never falls under a thousand dollars on any bar menu.

"It's no problem at all."

To Karl he addressed. "I'll have my usual along with the lady's Platinum Passion."

Bartender Karl gave a mock two-finger salute. "Alrighty boss, coming right up."

The beauty tossed her hair from her neck and supported her head with her fist under her chin. She licked her lips and made a show of finally giving him an appraisal with narrowed snake-like green eyes.

"I hope I'm not breaking the bank, Mr. Donario."

"Far from it."

"Well if you're trying to impress me. Congratulations you're doing a damn good job."

Karl, the bartender sat both parties drinks down and as prompt as he had appeared such had he made his exit. The woman lifted her Tartarean mauve drink to her lips, a favorable expression washing her face.

"Good?"

"Great."

He gestured to the stool next to her. "May I sit?"

"I mean if you want." She lifted her shoulders as if she could care less if he did or did not. It was a common game of cat and mouse.

She turned back to her drink as Luca opened his jacket and took a seat by her side. "You didn't ask my name by the way but I'm Lila. Lila Evans." With that said she smiles and outstretches her hand towards him.

50 miles away in the Hamptons

The ballroom is alit by chandeliers that twinkle and sparkle like diamonds reflecting sun rays. The Hampton's families and other rich benefactors glide around the room, shaking hands here and there in their finest. Buzz of talking, clinking of glasses and soft classical music played by the orchestra hired fills the room.

Daughter, Iris, of the best criminal lawyer in New York John Harding and socialite Vivian Harding, shuffled over to the vacant buffet table in heels that raised her from her tiny 5'3 height to a staggering 5'7. Feet practically immobile due to her unfamiliar relationship with the heeled monstrosities, she was dying for a rest.

The girl who was buxom in figure, groaned at the cinching corset she was insisted to wear to give her that 'slim thick' appearance which was now the new craze. The puff pastries and mini cupcake cheesecakes she was sneakily cramming into her mouth wasn't much help either.

But she just couldn't resist the sweet temptations and she could care less of its consequences.

A hand the shade of mocha quickly slapped her contrastingly golden brown fingers away from another mini lemon tart which she had been about to reach for. Iris cursed, internally of course, as she would not have dared to utter such words in a place of high social caliber. She would rather not have her mother blow a gasket.

Vivian clicked her tongue and fiercely looked at her 24-year-old daughter. "Darling, if you have one more dessert you'll turn into a watermelon."

Iris bit her tongue, frowning.

"Apologies, mother."

"Oh don't give me that pitiful expression my perfect little flower, you know I love you and I'm only trying to look out for you." Her mother said whilst she picked an imaginary fluff ball off the boring, grey-white couture Tsuri line dress she'd picked for her little girl.

She patted her daughter's back through the thick material of the form-fitting dress. "Now stop slouching. You're ruining the entire look."

Iris rolled her eyes and did as she was told. Like she always did. For to every outlooking eye, she was perfect.

From the crown of her shining, glossy hair that was always without kinks and tangles to her golden honey-like skin which was without the need of sprays tans, she was perfect. From a well constructed facial structure without the need of doctor's improvement to the nice glowing smile, her full lips allowed, she was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

She chipped at her nail polish, an unfortunate something her mother really detested.

"Oh look, you're father is taking the stage." Her mother announced to her, beaming.

John Harding took center stage, a gentle smile on his face as he stood in a crisp suit and addressed the gathered guests.

"Hello, everyone," John spoke into the microphone, his kind eyes wrinkling at the sides as he greeted his audience. "I hope you all are enjoying the Charity Ball's festivities and if you aren't well I encourage you to try the Cordon Bleu Chicken Meatballs, that'll definitely make your night."

Iris smiled at her father's statement. As if these snobs would ever eat something as fatty as that.

"Enough about the meatballs, I'm actually here on stage to thank you guys for coming out to this year's annual Hampton's Charity Ball and helping to raise a grand total of 7 million dollars." The gathered applauded and beamed with self-congratulatory pride, no one brazen enough to raise the volume of their applause. It was something that made Iris roll her eyes but like them, she did not raise the volume of her clapping hands.

"Every year we continue to outdo ourselves." Skylar Kempert turns up her nose with more pride than one woman should be able to have. "The Kempert's that is, can you believe we gave one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, which is two times the amount we gave last year."

"Hate to burst your horrendous Chanel No. 50 bubble, Sky but the Toddisks donated the most money this year." Chase Toddisks snickered through contempt.

Skylar Kempert narrowed her eyes at him. "No one asked you anything Toadskin."

Not for the last time, Iris questioned her sanity for being here.

"....Similarly, my wife and I would like to formally announce to the congregated close friends of ours, some exciting news."

A stir went around the room as the charity ball goers all stared hungrily for the juicy scoop. Iris' brows furrowed in confusion as she was as clueless to whatever announcement her father was about to make. A hand pressed against the small of her back and her mother stepped by her, a smile painting her face.

"Congratulations to my daughter, Iris Harding, for her engagement to one of New York's finest men—"

Iris' jolted, her large eyes mirroring that of beach balls as she gazes at her mother who is rubbing small circles on her back in what she supposed was to be soothing.

The crowd now faced away from the stage, their eagle-like eyes on her, picking her apart and as if a spotlight had been shown on her by then, she became board, stiff and rigid.

"Congrats, where's the ring?" Skylar asked immediately, glacier blues piercing Iris' naked ring finger.

"She's having it resized and the diamonds polished." Her mother said quickly, shooting Sky down who rolls her eyes.

"Where's your fine young man fiancé tonight, Miss Harding?" Dorian Rudolph, a neurosurgeon who'd had an eye on the girl despite his being almost 30 years her senior questions.

Her mother was again quick to rescue the paralyzed girl and she responds. "He's a busy man, he runs a multi-billion dollar company you know. He sends his regrets though."

Dorian humphed, departing however before he goes he doesn't hide the way he ogles the young girl's curves in the designer dress.

Chase Toddisks only stared at the girl longingly.

"Well if you would excuse us, Iris isn't one for the limelight and she thanks you all for your well wishes. Don't you darling?" Vivian, her mother, gave her a sharp look but to onlookers, it would've appeared as a concerned gaze of a loving mother.

Iris nodded her head numbly as if a puppet doll. And her mother dragged her away through the well-wishers who point and whisper about her. She felt as if her surroundings were surreal and as if she were in a fantasy realm.

For there could be no possible way her father had just announced an engagement she had no idea about. Yes, it must be a dream. A sick and twisted psychological dream that in the morning in her bed she would decipher. She would wake up very soon and laugh at herself whilst drinking her steaming hot cup of earl grey tea.

🌺

Thanks for reading! Until next time.

Nuff love,

~A