lassitude (n.) suffering from a lack of energy and motivation whether it's mentally or physically

"I run Russia. I took over the Mafia after I killed my father." My lips turn up a little at the corners.

Alessandro looks at me again. His shoulders were broad and his muscles popped out of his white dress shirt. His hair messy, and his expression stressed.

"You are going to stay here and kill people for us. If you refuse, we will be forced to kill Scarlett."

Scarlett is the only thing that is keeping me here. I'd do anything for Scarlett.

I simply nodded my head at him and looked away. Alessandro leaves the dark room.

Lorenzo looks at me with his brows furrowed. "That was easier than expected."

"I'd do anything for my sister without hesitation." He nods his head and leans in closer to me. I pulls a knife from his pocket and cuts the ropes at my wrists and ankles.

"The knife-"

"I got it." I stand up and pain shoots through my leg. I slightly wince.

Lorenzo guides me to a room upstairs. I sit on the bed. "This is you room, Alessandro stays across from you." I nod my head.

"Davina, you are going to one of Alessandro's clubs tonight to kill someone for us."

"Okay."

"All of your shit is in the closets already. You have two hours to get ready."

"What the fuck, how-"

"You've been out for three days. We picked it up this morning, don't ask how." He walks out the room. Three days? Fucking christ.

Okay whatever, I won't make a big deal of it. I take my shirt off and tear to wrap around my leg. If you are ever impaled with something, you should probably leave it in.

I stand up and walk into the bathroom. Thankfully, they have a sewing kit under the sink.I sit on the sink. I grab the scissors and cut my jeans so that I have access to the stabbing. I grab the alcohol and pour it on the knife. I grab a towel from the side of me and bite down on it, muffling any sound that comes from my mouth. I quickly get the needle and string ready to sew up some stitches.

I take the toilet paper and wrap a generous amount of it on my hand. I pull the knife out, and blood starts oozing out from it. I quickly wipe the blood with the toilet paper. I take the needle and sew stitches on my thigh as fast as possible. I bite down on the towel as tears run down my face. Fuck.

I finish the stitching and take a deep breath. This is for Scarlett. This is for Scarlett.

I stand up and walk into the my closet. I look in the closet and see all of my clothes. Every single thing. I picked out a little black velvet dress that revealed the right side of my body with diamond lace and showed off my breasts well. If I'm going to kill someone, might as well look good right? My leg feels numb and this dress will cover with stitches. I'll be fine, I always am.

I went to go shower after I picked out my outfit. The hot water cascaded down on my body and steam rose off my skin. The blood that was once there dissolved and my long black hair was no longer drenched in dirt and sweat.

After I got out, I blow dried my hair and curled it into loose curls that fell at the top of my ass. I put my dress on and black pumps and just applied some mascara and lipgloss. This dress showed off every curve perfectly and was for sure going to attract attention.I grabbed my lace gun holster and strapped it on to my thigh. I put my pistol in there. There was no way I wasn't going to kill anyone tonight. This is for Scarlett, I have to remember.

I walked outside of my room and at the same time Alessandro walked out of his.

He was wearing a black dress shirt, black slacks, and some black shoes. So we have the passion for the color black in common. His shirt defined his muscles and his hair was styled in a messy, but clean way. Like bed hair messy, in the most attractive way. The sleeves were rolled up and showed his tattoos that went up his arms. I fucking hate him.

"What are you wearing?" His deep voice asks me.

"A dress. Is it not obvious?" He shamelessly rakes his eyes on my body from head to toe and I suddenly feel self conscious. I never feel self conscious, I don't have time for that.

He comes closer and grabs the bottom of my dress. His hand trails up my thigh and my breathing became uneven. Why am I not stopping him?

"You stitched it up?" His fingers run over the stitches.

I hummed in response. "Mhmm."

I follow him outside to his cars, and he picks the black one.

I walk over to the passenger side of his blacked out Audi r8 and climb in.

Alessandro gets in the car moments later. Nirvana starts playing and I'm surprised at his music taste. Actually not really, he seems like the rock type of guy. He reverses the car and puts his hand on the back of my headrest. His muscles flex and I can smell his cologne. You've got to be kidding me.

About 20 minutes later, we arrive at this exotic club that had neon lights flashing everywhere.

"Don't leave my side." His eyes pierce through me.

"Whatever."

We get out the car and he grips my waist pulling me closer to him as we walk inside.

This was going to be a fun night.

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