The Mafia Lord’s Obsession

Clarissa’s pov. “What are you doing tonight?” Clara asked under her breath while prying to get a look at the book I held in my hands. "I have to finish up this book" I muttered “Do you ever do anything apart from read a book?” She looked at me with an expression that said she was fed up with me. I could only shake my head, if only she knew. “That aside, let’s go out tonight. There is this club I just discovered” she smiled, looking at me expectedly. Clara and I were two different peas in a pod. She was a party animal, while I was the kind that kept to myself. She hasn’t given up on trying to drag me to a club. “I can’t, I have something to do” I grimaced, trying to seem remorseful. I did feel bad about lying to her about the ballet I did but I just couldn't help it. “By 10?” She raised her brows. The professor took that right moment to enter, saving me from spewing more lies. I looked at the board, listening to the man explain a topic I had read all about. I was on my feet by the time the professor said the last sentence. “I love you, I will text you later” I whispered to Clara, rushing out of the class before I could hear her response. I was already 30 minutes late and I hated it. This man could take 1 hour out of the 2 hours we were supposed to stay for his lectures, just to get to class and he was so Goddamn slow. Jesus! I glanced at my watch and groaned out in frustration. It was already 6pm, and there were only a few minutes to spare before my session. I hurried my way through the sea of students, moving along the masses of bodies. My gaze snapped at a boy ogling me out in the open. I knew all too well about the curves that acclimated my body. Clara wouldn’t keep shut about it. Men. it took so little to get them where you wanted them. They were creatures fueled by the most absurd things. Be it a bursting cleavage or a perky ass, a lady could just bat their lashes and have them at the tip of their fingers. They were that simple and easy. I made my way towards the bus stop and reached just in time for the bus to pull over. The automated door slid open, and I stepped inside to scan my card. I made my way through the mass of seated people looking for the less crowded space. My eyes zeroed on the chair in the back seat and I made my way to it. Watching cars and people pass by, I began reeling about my life within the past few years. I had nothing less than a year to get out of school. The job I was currently doing paid well and dancing has always been something I enjoyed doing, the feel of the beat pumping through my bloodstream felt like another kind of nicotine. Dancing ballet in a club was nothing different. That was the only job that allowed my schedule flexibility. A nerdy computer science student at day, then a ballet dancer at night–I also get to enjoy both things that give me joy. I didn’t come from the best of families, the family I was adopted into wasn’t even close to being average, so I was left to feed myself for most days. Call it survival instinct, but that s**t is what has brought me so far. The bus pulled over at my stop, and I quickly took my things, rushing off of the bus. I had to be home in 30 minutes if I was going to make it in time for my dance session. I walked quickly, the bus stop wasn’t far off from my house. I reached my apartment door and pulled out my keys, inserting it into the keyhole before heading inside. I took the fastest bath that I have ever had and began getting ready. I replaced my glasses with contacts that hid the true color of my eyes. People who looked into my eyes would see a whirlpool of brown instead of gray. I started on my makeup. I could have easily asked one of the other girls to do my makeup, but that would have included them seeing my real face under the heavy makeup I usually put on, and I didn’t trust anyone but myself and Evans to keep my secret. I carried on with my hair, replacing it with a brown wig in contrast to my almost white hair, packing it up in a little bun. I looked in the mirror and the person staring at me was a totally different person-brown hair, brown eyes and heavily accented makeup. I was good to go. I packed my bags with a new ballet set, and took an apple for dinner. I left my apartment and locked the door. Standing across the street was a woman pointing at me, then whispering to her child about the consequences of being like me. She obviously knew I had a night job, hence the nasty look— quickly assuming it was a hookup. I flagged for a taxi and got in. “ Dainty hose please” He looked back like he hadn’t heard me say “Where to?” “Dainty hose” I said again. I could see the judgment clouding his eyes before he turned over. Hesitating to move. I have seen the judgment in people’s eyes whenever they stare at my figure, probably judging me for my 'hookup' job, as they seemed to say, or when my old neighbor, Mrs Wendy, would see me coming back from the Club late at night, and I have never made it a mission of mine to make them think otherwise. I knew the look he gave me so well, but if this man wanted to judge a paying passenger, then that was his business. I have had shitty years to care about what they think. He began driving, snapping his head back to look at me whatever chance he gets- I was just a ballet dancer not a hookup girl with malnutrition issues for Pete’s sake. The taxi rolled to a stop at the ballet house, the neon sign blaring at me the moment I looked towards the building loud and clear. I paid the driver his fare, rushing away from him before he spoke a word. He looked like the kind to warn me about my job or what I was doing here at a club. But how could I tell him they were some sick people who enjoyed watching ballet at a club? Being a ballet dancer at a club was already crazy enough. I moved towards the back door, sighting the familiar blonde hair of Cian through the people who stood by the door waiting for him to let them in. I flagged my hands, waiting for him to look over at me, as if in clue, his head snapped up at me, and a smile took over his face. He raised a middle finger my way while I mouthed the word asshole to him. Typical friend behavior. We have been friends for years, and he was always there when I needed him. His work at the academy was a plus one. I stepped into the house, the slow classical music playing, and I took in a deep breath urging the beat of my heart to slow down. People were dancing and drinking. Some of them were already drunk when the night had just started. I walked my way into the dressing room, reapplying the dark red tint on my lips, my body felt lit. Gone was the sweatpants and baggy top I wore here. What was left in its place was a small ballet gown. This was my own little world, a world I had control over. Time for my body to move.