*/ we never change ,

[ivanna vinci]

&

[/i][/size][/color][/font]every day that passes is just like yesterday , i [/i][/size][/color][/font]can't find a way to forget you because ,
T O K E E P O N L O V I N G Y O U I S I M P O S S I B L E [/center]

S

[/i][/size][/color][/font]he had been once fully aware of her limitations. They had been those cursed conflagrations that didn't allow her to pass to that other end of the world where she knew for a fact that life was much simpler, much easier. Day and night she had dreamed of such a place where she'd be happy without having to try, where she would be able to travel back in time and do things right. She hoped for the chance in which she would once again have two paths to follow, and with that sense of experience she would force herself to go through the most difficult yet rewarding way.
Where obstacles were framed with fire, and one could only see the light in the far, far end.

B[/i][/size][/color][/font]ut this all had stopped. Ivanna failed to see all these ends and beginnings, for she had become them. The flame that once scared her was she, and it was her who was scaring whole populations away. She knew that her wry character and bluntness were stronger weapons than guns and knifes. Her tongue was sharp, and her beauty was just a mirror of what she had become. She knew that the only way out of a life like the one she lead was through the good charity of the credulous and naive. If she would have to follow suit to all of these claims on a much later day, she would. Just not now. It was as if she had drank from the fountain of youth, one so pure and clean at first sight; yet so infinite that it was impossible to figure out what laid beneath. Just like Ivanna, so sweet and complicated, a messy compilation of emotions, ambition and a bit of good will that was almost always living in the shadow of her past. Things that didn't let her advance to become a better herself. A girl that a man wouldn't have to dare to love.

S[/i][/size][/color][/font]he remembered him with her soul clenched. With a sadness that was almost impossible to bare, and a terrible misunderstanding of what had happened. It was him who had destroyed all the love that she had had left, the bit that had survived so much calamity, so many lies and so many good-byes. But as closed as a locked vault, with twilight erasing all that she knew and was able to control... Ivanna couldn't speak of it. Her pride hurt, and her mind commanded all her senses to erase the emotion, for none of it was worth it. She had wanted him with every piece of her body once. She had been faithful, as faithful as a woman that sold her body on the streets as the blue night fell over her shoulders. She had loved him and given herself up to her, mind and heart; for giving up her body at that point seemed more of an ironic joke than a romantic statement. She was in love with him, but the word had lost all its worth after being used and used. No one seemed to believe it, to her surprise, because she had pronounced those syllables, throwing them and bending them to her needs. But none of that had mattered before, not like it mattered now. Blaise, Blaise didn't believe them.

And that's why life was over to her.


T[/i][/size][/color][/font]he meaning of love was just but a dictionary definition to Ivanna Vinci. The girl who had grown surrounded by silk and sugar, large, cold houses and large, cold hearts. A life in which her mother begged the nannies to give her daughter an extra hug, for she was on her way out to a party in England, a place that was becoming more chic and where the parties celebrated beauty rather than talent. Of course, a small two year old daughter would not do, she needed a tall, skinny, mature young woman to keep by her side. Ivanna wasn't ready. She barely knew how to hold a spoon and much less speak to the crowds with the elegance that her mother seemed to achieve. Her father, a business man who still couldn't believe his wife had gotten pregnant from a one-time adventure that hadn't even been part of marriage. A large fault in a world of rules and where love wasn't a part of life, just written of in books and sang about in songs.
If he had known that Ivanna wasn't his real daughter but of a young man who bought the newspaper in the mornings... Mrs. Vinci's head would've been cut off and carried in a parade of shame.

Y[/i][/size][/color][/font]et children are tricky, and learn what is truly in their hearts. Hope grows and so did the girl of the blonde hair and deep blue eyes. She hoped to love and to be loved. Characters in romantic novels became alive before her tiny body that yearned for that true feeling that seemed so far away. The plays she portrayed with schoolmates and dialogues she created right off her head which spoke of broken hearts and large prides became more of a part of her soul. Those characters made out of words made her jealous; all she wanted was to feel, to live.
But not many boys in high school were the ideal Darcys. They weren't built from the strokes of a lovely hand that communicated all that was hopeful and pretty. These were raised in ambition and hate, security and trapts. All they were curious about was of a sensual nature, one that Ivanna wasn't willing to live so early in life.
Ivanna had to escape. She looked for every way to run away. Balconies became short of what she was, and the front door was just but a very large window. Through every evening, the rain that splattered in her window, the singing of the birds and the drilling that seemed to be happening in her brain... all she saw was hope, failing grades, broken hearts and a bigger reputation than the mansion her father had just purchased in the coast of Spain.

A[/i][/size][/color][/font]nd the games began. Work was only at night, and she had officially ran away from home. The charm of life was gone, she didn't understand the language of many, although she would start to quite soon. Two for a hit, how long will five hundred get me, end of the night and early morning.
She had made up a new world of her own, said that she had lived with in the outskirts of Italy and moved to Venice just a few weeks ago to escape the life of a small town that didn't provide much for a big personality as her own. With her hair the color of honey curled and almost down to her mid-back and piercing blue eyes behind a pair of sunglasses, the man who seemed to be the leader of the pack ran a hand up and down Ivanna's waist, and squeezed it from both sides. Almost as if checking the merchandise before it was sent for shipping. He walked in a circle surrounding her, scratching his chin and pulling his hair from the scalp.

"You could be a model, you know. No real need to sell your body. Just... sell it in pictures. Fuck one of the photographers and get pregnant, you're set for life. " The man, maybe too young yet wise beyond his years spoke with such lure that Ivanna became quickly infatuated. She shook her head, and bit her lip. Almost instantly knowing that if she was going to make it in this business, she would have to raise her chin, put a hand to her hip and know what she had to give.
Herself.

"I can't get pregnant. I'm infertile. " The five men who were surrounding her became quickly interested. It showed in their eyes and in their movements. The boy who seemed to be the leader put an arm to stop the two men to his right from advancing.

" You said, Ivanna, right? "

"Whatever you want me to be. "



I[/i][/size][/color][/font]f this was the beginning of a fairy tale, she did not know how it was going to turn out to end. The child inside her urged her to believe in what almost seemed impossible at the moment. The older men seemed the most interested in the new girl who had just joined the pack. They clothed her in the most expensive of clothes and made sure she had a room to sleep in every night. A very glamorous life considering the fact that she was paying for it with her dingity and pride, both which seemed to slip away from right before her eyes.

The crystal moon cried as the battle that she seemed to be losing dangerously closed to a very tragic finale. It was the play written out of her life which seemed to sell no copies, the saddest of all poems; the kiss of the beloved, and the lost run that she had given to her hope.


S[/i][/size][/color][/font]he had met him in the worst of moments. He had saved her life and she didn't even know it. Almost having lost all senses, her sanity and her heart. Her soul seemed to linger and sleep in dark corners. Her eyes were dry, and the kisses meant nothing but money and comfort. The idea that anyone could survive off living in a world as such seemed preposterous, at least to a romantic like her.

She kissed the knuckles in his hands, looked at his bright eyes and held him proudly. With love, and with a heart that seemed to come back to life. The town's lights seemed that much brighter, and her life seemed fuller.
Blaise had saved her. He had wanted her. For months he had paid Ivanna's boss to let her off. Paid for her to have a simple moment of happiness. He had given her all. And for once, Ivanna Vinci experienced love.


H[/i][/size][/color][/font]er brain stopped working and her heart seemed to pause in its tracks. She couldn't hear it beating and she wanted to know if it was still there or swallowed up by the lack of him. Once again, she had escaped. Escaped his inability to love her, even when she was sure that he did. He had laughed at her feelings and now he was here. Almost like destiny. She didn't want to believe it, she wanted to hear his voice and surround herself with his arms. Feel his warm breath against her skin, her nails to dig into his back to stop him from leaving. She wanted him for herself. But he didn't want her.



I[/i][/size][/color][/font]vanna walked slowly towards the building that Cordelia had found out for her. Blaise was staying here. An expensive set of apartments that felt like him. She could almost imagine him walking up this path, as she drew her arms around her and hugged her coat against her skin. The small hairs in the back of her neck rose up, as her long legs carried her up towards the elevator that seemed to go slower than usual. She had come carrying a secret in one hand and her heart on the other one. She had to tell him today or lose him forever. It was her pride that hadn't let her tell him the truth that was hidden beneath all that was Ivanna. The lies, the love, the need for someone to be next to her. The floors ran by from beneath her and even the height scared her. Suddenly, everything scared her.
Yet as the pair of doors opened, she knew she had to do it. Now or never.

And as her delicate hand turned into a fist and knocked against the white door... she knew that Blaise was the only one.

And that the child that they would've had would've united them, yet Ivanna killed it. Just as he had killed her heart.

c

[/i][/size][/color]losed to , [/font] blaise romano .
s[/i][/size][/color]tatus , [/font] done, yo !
w[/i][/size][/color]ord count , [/font] 2000 ?
m[/i][/size][/color]usic , [/font] illegal by shakira .
n[/i][/size][/color]otes , [/font] ily lace c: just put it in this board because it's empty. lolzz. [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]

[blaise romano .]

* / o u r t w o w o r l d s w i l l b e o n e ,

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A eneas Romano was a possessive man, he was controlling and demanding especially of his son. Blaise had learned these facts at an early age, he was smart enough to realise how greedy his father how, how the older man wanted the best of both worlds. He wanted the domestic thing, oh yes, on some level everyone does - but he also wanted the life every person wishes they lived; the 'see it to believe it' sort of life. Aeneas hadn't always as corrupt as he was these days, starting life in the best possibly way, Aeneas was born with a silver spoon in his mouth and when he was growing up he played sports like polo and birthday parties were affairs held in gazebos at the racetrack. He lived a charmed life, but the young Aeneas didn't let it go to his head, he was a charming young man and devilishly intelligent, top in his school in his graduating year. But his true passion lay in photography, he had a innate talent for the art and the fire of his obsession was never snubbed out. Not when critics ignored his work and called him a bored rich brat, a passing fancy that wouldn't amount to anything but oh they were so wrong, by twenty Aeneas had most of the world as his feet and the rest of it was busy kissing his ass. How could a man with such a promising, bright future ahead of him turn into the dirty, sleazy dealer he was today?

B laise himself often wondered what had gone wrong in his father's mind. The answer is a simple one, fame happened. Aeneas shot to stardom when one of his notoriously sexual photo shoots was printed in Vogue Italia; he was controversial, out there and wild and he had such flare even an untrained eye could tell he was born to be behind the camera. But he was a handsome man, women and men alike threw themselves at him with little poise and dignity, it wasn't long before he succumbed and answered their patient calls. It hadn't meant to turn into anything permanent but before long Aeneas reputation as a heart breaker and a player overshadowed his photography, it stopped being something he enjoyed doing and became something he needed to do. Aeneas Romano, a sex addict at twenty one. Then of course he met the startling Varanese Lombardi, one of his native blood and frankly, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He loved taking her pictures, unable to keep eyes and camera off her whenever she was near - their shoots together were many and from then on he was considered the man who paved her way to fashion fame. They had sex just three weeks after they first met, it became frequent and before Aeneas knew what hit him he had gone and fallen in love with the girl. But it didn't last, nothing ever did with Aeneas - he was back out, sleeping with women and men he didn't know over the radiant beauty so hopelessly willing to fulfill his every desire. Aeneas really had no idea how lucky he was.

T hen came Blaise, a mistake if there ever was one but how could Aeneas break Varanese's heart and tell her to abort the child. Quite easily actually because that was the first thing to slip from his lips when he heard the news; disgusted Varanese walked out and didn't return until Blaise was four months old. The couple, if they could even be called such, patched things up for the sake of their son, not that Aeneas wanted the boy, simply because he was well aware of what an angry Varanese was capable of doing, and of what her mobster father was willing to do for his daughter. Blaise's childhood was a humiliating one even if Aeneas wasn't around often - they shared a mansion but the mother and son were sectioned off as soon as Aeneas could manage it. This was the same time Aeneas finally hit his all time low, the hookers came first and when he had made a name for himself as a pimp the drugs shortly followed. Shipping only the finest quality coke from all over the world, Aeaneas spread it to the Italian masses, starting small in Naples but branching out quickly. From then the mobsters arrived, they showed up at the family home often enough as it was, because of Varanese's connections but never had they thought about going into business with Aeneas, not that was really what they did. Protection was as good a word as any, they offered protection to Aeneas goods - people and drugs alike - for a high price, they also extended the offer to Varanese and Blaise but this was the least of Aeneas problems.

W hile all this was happening young Blaise was hopelessly unawares; too caught up in the sexual side of his father's antics. He was a pimp, a player and he fucked anything that moved, even thirteen year old girls. When Aeneas was arrested for sleeping with a girl of thirteen, Blaise was treated like filth, the police even went as far as to ask if his father had ever sexually abused him but Blaise's response was that Aeneas didn't even care enough to do that. Bitter even then, Blaise suffered months of taunts and hateful pranks all because of his father; he built walls around himself because he had to in order to survive. Then when he would return home from school, he would find his mother lying on her bed, mascara running down her pretty face staining them and the worry lines around her eyes and mouth distorting her once majestic looks. Life was full of money and expensive things, lots of pastimes and fake friends but they, mother and son, were both miserable and there was only one man responsible for it all. Aeneas Romano may not have cared for his son, but he did like to have control over him all the same, Blaise was headstrong once upon a time, he answered back and snapped at his father; though he never did it twice after a harsh beating from the Romano senior silenced his cheek. Aeneas liked to know where his wife and son were going, what they were up to and who they were seeing - he cheated on his wife constantly but he was paranoid she was doing the same to him, and he was kept awake at night with the terrible thoughts that Blaise was plotting against him so he did the thing he could think of: he hired people to spy on his family.

N either Blaise nor Varanese were stupid, they both picked up on their followers quickly enough but while Varanese raised hell over it, Blaise kept quiet. He disliked angering his father, though it came almost naturally to him, he didn't tell his father he knew and he begged his mother not to alert him either - he had to deal with this problem another way. Blaise became careful, he had to be, every move was calculated to perfection, if Aeneas ever thought there was a reason to be worried now was the time to really start. Blaise sussed his father out with effortless grace, his actions always displaying the son Aeneas wanted him to be - feelings the man had expressed before, though Blaise always tasted the familiar bitter tang of hatred when he caught the ironic, teasing undercurrent to his father's words. He was expected to be his father's son, to the core, but anyone and everyone who knew the Romano name - he was expected to take over the business one day, though only Blaise and his cousin really knew what Aeneas and his brother - Blaise's uncle - meant by 'the business'. What else could Blaise do when there was people watching his every move? He played the part, disgusted at how easily it came to him, he slept around; he even had a son by mistake just like his own daddy, but there was one thing Blaise did that Aeneas considered beneath him. Blaise had the audacity to spend time - not even fucking - with hookers. It was unheard of, treating them like they were even real human beings. That had to end.

T hat was how he ended up here, back in Italy for the time being summoned by the one man he couldn't refuse. Usually Aeneas didn't bother having his men follow Blaise to anywhere outside of Italy, but word had reached him of Ivanna's presence in LA and Aeneas did not trust his son to follow his orders, with or without Cillian there. So men were dispatched and what shout Aeneas discover but Blaise was indeed disobeying his orders, spending time with the slut who seemed to have him captivated in some way. Aeneas was quick to act, and Blaise couldn't refuse, not when the men were carrying guns and manhandling him to the airport. He was in a Rome rather than Naples, the Romano's had homes in many cities in Italy although Naples was where they based everything. Their house in Rome was a stop over point, Blaise was to wait until his father contacted him but no doubt the older man had men watching, waiting to see if Ivanna ever showed up. Blaise wasn't worried, she was the last person he expected to see, though the one he wanted to see the most. He was thinking about her even when he heard the knock at the front door, startled out of his much too common daydreams about the blonde woman, Blaise stood and made his way to the door. He was unable to shake Ivanna from his mind, but that had been they norm ever since they had first met, she stole his attention without even having to try and he wasn't shy in admitting that he wanted her, perhaps more than he'd wanted anyone else. When she had told him he loved her surprise was all he could feel, his impression had been that they were strictly a fun thing, but no the Romano charm had worked a little to well this time. Joker Blaise laughed before he could stop himself and had since spent almost every waking moment feeling guilt and regret, why hadn't he told her what he felt? Was he really so far in his fake persona that he couldn't even act himself anymore?

T anned fingers gripped a cold, gold leaf coated handle yanking it harder than intended. A gust of air came in from the hallway, neither door nor window had been opened in days; Blaise was dressed in subtle attire, a pair of dark jeans and a white shirt was all he wore, the top two buttons of the shit opened to expose equally tanned chest, no hairs though thank you very much. His face held an expression of boredom, though that was because he expected it to be his father, instead it was someone else - that one unexpected person. Blue eyes widened and before he knew it, Blaise had yanked her arm and pulled her inside, slamming the door shut and locking; he turned swiftly, back pressed against the door and knuckles white as he clenched and unclenched them "Ivanna," His voice carried more relief that he wanted it too, coming out in a soft purr of contentment. "How did you find me?" He questioned, finally releasing the tension in his shoulders, he hadn't even realised he'd been so wound up but now Ivanna was here if felt like everything was right again. He frowned gently, stepping towards her though only thinking about touching her forearm gently - his simple, guarded way of showing how much he'd really missed her. He even raised his arm, but it stopped mid-reach and fell back to his side, face pained for a second until a sickly sweet smile replaced the expression. "My father called me back..." He told her quietly, as if ashamed he'd even returned here at all.


W ords : 2223
N otes : ily vale. don't be expecting a post like this next time though (;
C redit : vale for banner <33