The Devil Between Her Legs

Symphony of the music

Brie

All heads turned as he walked in, arrogant and wicked. His incredible aura radiates wealth and power. He was the typical tall, handsome and dark man with a mysterious edge to it.

Everyone was watching him, I was too. Every step he took with those very expensive shoes screams power. His all-custom-made black suit fits him like a second skin and makes him look more and more intimidating.

The men in the room, even the highly influential ones, had their mouths gaping at how wealthy and successful he is, while the women of how hot and handsome he is. I would have too, but my rage saw past all that because it was all a facade.

At the young age of 25, he was already controlling an empire and at 35 he had raised it to a massive one. He owns chains of business ranging from hotels to clubs to estates to different things.

But what some of them might not know is underneath all these things is that he is a monster. He is Atlas Moretti, a powerful and ruthless mafia lord.

Most of the people in this room know exactly who he is because they are also here to make illicit transactions. These few people know very well that he is not just a business man. All of his businesses are a barricade from his real businesses. Just camouflage to his crimes.

We may all know he is a mafia lord, but not even the police can prove his crimes. He literally owns them. Or there should be absolutely no evidence to back up the claims of his crimes.

Even this auction that is being held is a disguise for his money laundering business. He is a crime boss. A renowned mafia don. Powerful and ruthless. Feared and practically worshiped.

And I'm going to destroy him. Ruin his life.

And I'll do anything. Absolutely anything to achieve that.

But first I have to make contact, which is part of the reason I'm here now.

Let's get this started.

“Hey,” one of the backstage crew called, “It's almost time.”

I nodded and faked a bright smile for her. Smiling is not really what I enjoy doing because I don't deserve to laugh at all, but in the coming days I guess I'll have to do a lot of it willingly.

I took one last look at him before pulling back the curtains. Then I headed back to my dressing room to add some finishing touches to my look. I added more red gloss to my already bloody lips and admired myself in the mirror.

My blonde hair was pulled back in an extremely neat bun with thousands of pins and lots of gels to put it in place. And on my face is light makeup which perfectly did justice to my natural beauty.

I'm wearing a long flowy black gown with thin straps and an extremely low back. A slit was on the front of my thigh on the left side of the cloth, almost reaching the joint between my leg and my hip line. I was dressed to kill. Perfect.

“Come on. You are up,” another crew member said as he knocked twice on my door.

A performance was to be put on as underground music playing for the guests to mingle before the main auction would start. And I'm the Cellist, the performer. A facade I'll have to put on for the next few months of my life.

I stood behind the curtains staring at the huge red curtain and waiting for the cue from the director. A chair was already there and my cello as well. I was instructed to eventually sit down. I sat with my legs spread open and adjusted the cello closer to my bosom.

It's about to go down, and I'm as confident as ever.

The long awaited is about to start, with the stroke of the bow in my hand on the string to make music. Music from the very beginning.

I pushed my left leg forward more, the slit revealing my long tanned legs in a tempting and delicious way. Any way to get the attention of that man, I'm up for it.

Now we start.

The curtains lifted, and I looked out for him in the crowd. He wasn't a hard man to find considering how tall and handsome he was among the ugly ones.

He was holding a glass of champagne and was talking to a group of men. Though I wouldn't say he was actually saying anything, he was just nodding his head, but I knew he actually wasn't listening.

Why would he bother listening to the men below him? He is too sophisticated for that. Too arrogant.

How I wish I could just walk over and break my cello on his skull or, better still, stuck my cello bow on his neck. All this would be over in a second, but he would easily overpower me. He is bloody 6’2. And those strong arms beneath his suit would pin me down in a second. So I'll just do what I have to do best. Take him down little by little even before he could realize he was already down. I'll ruin him even if that's the last thing I do.

I started playing my cello, jamming at the strings with my bow and putting out beautiful tones even though my rage was at its peak. But I'll just have to focus on the instrument for now.

I allowed myself to be carried away by the symphony of the music even though it plagued me deep down.

My whole body and utmost concentration was on my keys and his face. Waiting. Waiting patiently for him to recognize the tunes. For him to remember. Remember what he had done.

I continued playing, and it was getting the attention of the people. They were all turning to see what was playing, then it changed to who was playing. I felt eyes of lust on me. From the shameless old men in the audience. I knew their eyes were on my perfect body. At my revealing skin and cleavages. But that was how it had to be. I just need him to notice me even just for a split second. I need him to know I'm coming for him. I need him to know he had hurt someone he wasn't meant to hurt. I need him to know I'm his karma.

I am still waiting for him.

And eventually he did turn. A pair of cold blue eyes fastened on me. The feel of his eyes stood out and made more impact than the hundreds of others in the room. It was as if the hundreds of people in the room had disappeared, and it was only us. Me and him. Certainly not against the world. But in an impending storm of revenge.

I watched his every expression, every movement. I watched how he twirled the liquid in his champagne glass, how he checked his Rolex every five minutes.

es.

His face was blank as he watched me, but deep down I knew he recognized the music.

Now we will see whether he actually remembers it.