#pleinsedemuses

[thefvrious]

As long as Luka had been doing this, he had been seeking validation. He’d been a child when he’d been first wrapped up in the Bratva, after all, and it was all he has ever known. The men and women he worked for knew how to make him feel everything he did… be it a cold look that felt like a slap in the face or a warm smile that felt like a congressional medal of honor. Either way, he strove to be the best of the best. Of course, he wanted to make her happy. How was that not a part of it? He was confused.

The Russian cocked his head to the side, trying to understand. He looked down at her from his brilliant height of almost six and a half feet, trying to read her expression, but it was inscrutable, and he’d neverr been good at figuring people out anyway, at least not by studying them. The only way he ever got to know anything about a person, he felt, was by torturing them, and Chiara wasn’t on his list of victims. He hoped she’d never be.

“You have my loyalty, and I do not think I am toeing the line between it and devotion. This is a strong word, da?” He asked, scrunching his face slightly. “I am only human, it is nice to hear that I have done a good job every once in a while, builds good morale.” Already, he was speaking more than he normally would and it made him uncomfortable, the words clunky and wrong as they fell out of his mouth.

He did nothing as she stepped back, putting some distance between them, but he couldn’t pretend to not be shocked when she leveled a cold gaze at him. “I thought we were friends, is this not true?” He asked, his tone soft. If she needed to put distance between them for work, then he would understand, he just thought he deserved an explanation first.

Chiara stood tall despite her short height, her eyes narrowed as she regarded Luka. She had always kept her emotions in check, the cold mask of a mob boss’s daughter a carefully constructed shield. She wasn’t about to let it slip now, not even in the face of Luka’s vulnerable confusion.

Her lips pressed together in a tight line before she spoke, her voice cool and measured. “You don’t understand because you’re trying to. You’re trying to please me, Luka, and that’s where you’re wrong.” She stepped closer to him, her heels clicking against the floor, the tension between them palpable. "This isn’t about pleasing me. It never was."

She glanced at him briefly, her eyes lingering for just a moment longer than necessary, before looking away, almost as if trying to escape the connection that was creeping up on her.

“I don’t need your devotion,” she continued, her tone steely. “I need loyalty. That’s what matters. And that’s what you should focus on.”

There was a flicker in her gaze, a subtle shift, but she quickly masked it, her expression returning to its usual unreadable calm. Her heart clenched for a fraction of a second, but she dismissed it just as quickly, pushing those feelings deeper where they couldn’t hurt her.

Chiara crossed her arms, deliberately keeping her distance, yet her gaze softened, just for a moment, before the coldness returned.

“Don’t make this harder than it has to be, Luka. You know the rules.” She gave him a sharp look, her voice quiet but firm.

Rules that were getting harder to follow...