petrichor (n.) the smell that accompanies after it rains

Lorenzo punches my jaw, making my head turn. My back is fully turned to him now as I touch my lip, tasting the blood that drips from my mouth. We've been going at it for the past ten minutes. I hear his steps behind me and before he can grab me, I throw my elbow back and hit his ribs. This makes him stumble back and cough uncontrollably. I take this opportunity to throw a combo at his face, punching his jaw right, left, and then end him with a final uppercut. His back hits the mat and loud cheers fill the gym.

I look around and the only person who isn't giving me a reaction is him. Alessandro stands there with his huge figure radiating power off of him. His shoulders were broad and his hair messy from working out. I could tell he's still pissed at me. I mean he wanted to see what I can do right? Jeez, some stick up his ass. Bipolar much.

Lorenzo gets up from the mat and stands up, hunched over. "Jesus Davina." I turn to him and hold a hand out. He slaps my hand. "Give me a second, I'm still pissed I lost." Good save, I almost whooped your ass again.

He smiles and holds his hand out. "I'm kidding sexy." He winked at me. I roll my eyes and shake his hand.

"You're annoying." He laughs a little. Lorenzo is playful but deadly. Total opposite of Alessandro, maybe I can get use to Lorenzo.

"Only for you." I laugh at his corniness. A throat clears behind us and it's Alessandro.

"Not bad Davina, could do better." I scoff at his statement. Lorenzo tenses up when his brother is near us.

"Yeah whatever." I reply.

"We have a ball to attend to this evening and you're going with me."

"No I'm not." I fucking hate mafia balls. My father would force me to go and would try to sell me to other men. Of course men wanted to buy me but then I would pull my dress up to reveal my gun and they instantly change their minds. Edgar use to call me an ugly slut because he couldn't sell me.

"Yes the fuck you are. And if I have to dress you and drag you to the ball, I will." Why does he have to be such a prick.

"Well then fucking do it." I dared him. He takes a deep breath and runs his hand though his hair. I cross my arms and look up at his big self. He glares down at me and then I roll my eyes and walk past him.

As I'm walking, he grabs me and tosses me over his shoulder.

"Bye Davina!" Lorenzo calls out. I laugh a little, but remain pissed for being thrown like a rag doll.

"Alessandro what the fuck!" He stays quiet and continues to walk. I mean I didn't think he was actually going to do it. "I swear to god when you put me down I'm going to-"

And then he throws me down on a bed. I move my hair out of my face and I'm met with my bedroom. "You're going to what?" He had a smirk on his sexy face. I mean, annoying face.

"Stronzo." I muttered under my breath. His eyes darken and he joins me on the bed. Well on top of me.

I turn away from him, as he towers over me, directly in my face. I feel his breath hit my neck.

"You should really watch your mouth when you're talking to me. It's insanely hard for me to not tie you up and take you on this bed right now, until you apologize, begging me for more."

I turn my head back to his and our eyes are throwing daggers at each other. "In your dreams." I announce harshly. The thought made me clench my thighs a little, I hope he didn't notice that. He rolls his eyes and then gets off of me. My body was left with the cold air now. I prop my self up on my elbows and glare at his back.

"Wear something nice." He turns around to me. "Or do I need to dress you as well?" His lips stretched into a slight smile.

"Fuck off." I can't believe I'm going to this fucking ball. God I haven't been to one in like 3 years. Bad things happen at those balls.

"I'm serious Anastasia." He only calls me Anastasia when he's being serious. I hate that name but when he says it, I could care less. I think we can all say that I am sexually attracted to that man. "Be ready, we're going to leave in two hours."

I just nodded my head and looked away from him, portraying my irritation. I hear his footsteps walk out the room and the door shut. Fucking prick.

I decide to take a shower. I lather my hair in my vanilla shampoo and conditioner and shave my legs. My stitches were getting better. I get out the shower and steam is everywhere. I wipe the mirror and staring back is a broken woman with scars all over her back. She looks strong, like she's fighting everyday, a battle between her heart and mind. I pity her. I pity me, myself. I didn't even realize that I was in the shower for that long until I noticed on the clock that I had an hour left to get ready.

I open my closet and think what to wear. I haven't worn red in a while. I pick a red satin dress that has a dangerous slit at the thigh and showed my breasts well. I've never wore this dress yet, my father would never allow it.

It was a simple gown, showed every curve of my body and highlighted the best parts. It showed my hourglass figure off and presented my left thigh. I slipped the dress over my red lace bra and underwear that matched. A newfound confidence came with this dress, and I feel comfortable in my own skin. I just blow-dry and straighten my black locks that reached the top of my ass. I kept my makeup to a minimum and slipped on black heels. I put on a gold necklace, and gold bracelets to match. I grab my pistol and strap it to my thigh. Not going to lie, I look great. I feel great.

I hope Scarlett is okay. She would've loved this dress. I take one more look at myself in the mirror and decide I'm ready to go. I put a coat of lipgloss on and walk out my room.

Let's see what's going to happen.

----------

And it's hard to keep my cool

When other bitches try to get with my dude

When other chickens try to get in my coop

Cause you're a one in a million

There ain't a man like you