C147 Give It Up, Bitch

The room was awash with soft, golden light, highlighting the elegant chaos of fabric swatches, glittering catalogue pages, and half-finished glasses of punch on the coffee table.

Annabelle perched on the edge of the sofa, her pencil skirt crinkling slightly as she leaned forward to examine yet another page Natasha had shoved in front of her.

“Tell me this doesn’t scream ‘classy mafia queen,’” Natasha teased, tapping a photo of an intricate black gown with plunging lines and an open back.

Annabelle laughed, shaking her head. “If I wear something like that, Cathy might disown me.”

Natasha smirked. “You’re getting there. I’ve seen the way Dante looks at you. Might as well cement your throne with this one.”

Annabelle’s cheeks burned. “Let’s focus on the fashion show, shall we?”

Annabelle wondered how she had let Natasha talk her into going to the show anyway.

Not that she had been given much choice.

She suspected Dante had put Natasha up to the task of making sure she became as decadent as ever and Natasha was doing a good job of making sure Annabelle spend Dante's money as fast as possible.

"Maybe too good a job. And she is damn stubborn too," she thought with a smile as she flipped the catalogue.

Just then, Antonia swept into the room, her entrance as smooth and calculated as ever.

She wore a fitted emerald dress that gleamed under the light, her hair immaculately curled to frame her sharp features.

A pleasant, but faintly cold, smile graced her lips.

“Ladies,” Antonia greeted, her tone dripping with honeyed civility. “What a delightful little gathering.”

“Antonia,” Natasha replied, her voice cool but civil. “We were just deciding how best to bankrupt Dante. Care to help?”

Antonia chuckled softly, moving to sit beside Annabelle, her movements catlike and deliberate. “I wouldn’t dream of interfering. Dante’s generosity is legendary, after all.”

Annabelle offered her a polite smile, shifting slightly to make room.

She had learnt to tread lightly with Antonia, whose sweetness always seemed one step away from curdling into something bitter.

“Annabelle,” Antonia purred, “I heard Cathy had a project she was excited to share. Shouldn’t you check on her before she bursts with anticipation?”

Annabelle blinked, surprised Antonia even knew about Cathy’s schoolwork.

But then her sudden guilt made her dismiss that thought as she remembered that Cathy had told her earlier but Natasha had somehow distracted her.

“You’re right,” she said, rising. “Excuse me, Natasha.”

“I’ll check on something too,” Natasha said breezily, standing as well.

Her casual tone didn’t hide the sharp glance she sent Antonia’s way. “Back in a bit.”

Annabelle didn’t think much of Natasha’s sudden exit, her focus on Cathy.

She hurried through the hallway, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor, leaving the two women alone.

*****

Natasha’s instincts screamed at her the moment she stepped out of the room.

Antonia’s pleasant facade couldn’t hide the cunning glint in her eyes.

Something was off.

Retrieving a small, discreet camera from her jacket, she positioned it behind a vase near the edge of the room.

Its lens pointed directly at the seating area.

“Let’s see what you’re up to, Antonia,” she muttered before stepping into a nearby hallway, waiting and listening.

Antonia moved with quick precision the moment she was alone.

She slipped a small vial from her purse, her manicured nails steady as she uncorked it.

The faint, bitter scent wafted up as she poured the liquid into Annabelle’s glass.

She swirled the drink lightly to mask the addition, her lips curling into a victorious smirk.

“I hope you enjoy this, Annabelle,” she whispered. “A taste of your own medicine.”

Before she could compose herself, Natasha stormed back into the room.

“Well, isn’t this cosy,” Natasha said, her voice slicing through the air like a blade.

She eyed Antonia’s stiff posture and then glanced pointedly at the glass. “You trying to poison my friend?”

Antonia’s head snapped toward Natasha, her face contorted in a mixture of shock and anger. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing!” she hissed, rising to her feet.

“Why the surprise, Antonia?” Natasha sneered. “It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve sent people to kill me.”

Antonia’s eyes widened, the denial dying on her lips as Natasha stepped closer, her tone turning lethal. “Oh, you didn’t think I’d find out about those men you hired? Your daddy might be mafia, but tough survivors like me own the streets. And guess what? I don’t forgive.”

Before Antonia could respond, Natasha’s left fist shot out, the cut-edge ring on her finger landing with a sickening thud against Antonia’s cheek.

Antonia stumbled, clutching her face as blood trickled from the fresh gash.

“Bitch!” Antonia spat, her composure crumbling. "What the fuck?!"

“Careful,” Natasha warned, flexing her fingers. “I wouldn’t mind shooting you in the leg, but I’d rather leave that pleasure to Dante. Oh, and smile for the camera.” She nodded toward the vase, her smirk widening as Antonia followed her gaze.

Antonia’s face paled as she spotted the lens.

In desperation, she lunged toward it, but Natasha tackled her, pinning her to the ground just as Annabelle returned.

*****

Annabelle froze in the doorway, her eyes wide as she took in the scene.

Antonia, disheveled and bleeding, was pinned under Natasha, who looked utterly unbothered.

“What the hell is going on?” Annabelle demanded, her voice sharp.

Natasha stood, brushing her hands off theatrically. “Oh, nothing. Antonia was just about to jump on her broomstick and leave.”

Antonia glared up at Natasha, hatred blazing in her eyes.

Natasha smirked, stepping aside to reveal the camera. “Care to explain, dear Antonia?” she taunted, handing the camera to Annabelle and blocking Antonia’s path.

Before Annabelle could process the situation, Antonia’s desperation boiled over.

She pulled a gun from her purse, aiming it at Natasha.

Annabelle’s instincts kicked in.

She drew her own gun, steadying her aim on Antonia. “Drop it,” Annabelle said coldly. “Unless you want to see how good a shot I’ve become.”

Antonia’s hands trembled, her fury giving way to frustration.

With a guttural yell, she lowered her weapon and flung it onto the sofa. “Go fuck yourselves!” she snarled before stomping toward the door.

*****

As the door swung open, Dante entered, his imposing figure filling the room. His eyes narrowed as they fell on Antonia, her twisted face a stark contrast to her usual poise.

“Dante, I...” Antonia began, her voice trembling.

“Give it up, bitch,” Natasha cut in, her tone dripping with venom. “No sob story will get you out of this one.”

Dante’s frown deepened, his disapproval directed at Natasha. “Watch your mouth,” he growled.

Natasha shrugged, unfazed. “She just tried to poison your woman, boss.”

Dante’s head snapped toward Antonia, his glare turning deadly.

Before he could say a word, Antonia brushed past him, her tears spilling freely as she ran to her car.

Natasha crossed her arms with a triumphant smirk on her face.

“The camera doesn’t lie,” she said, nodding at the device in Annabelle’s hands.

Dante’s jaw tightened as he turned his gaze back to Annabelle.

The storm brewing in his eyes promised retribution, and for a moment, Annabelle felt a sliver of sympathy for Antonia.

That was, until she watched the clip.