Mafia Damian's Bride

On a bright Friday morning, Damian Tucker sat in his office chair on the top floor of a high-rise building, scrolling through his laptop. He was 28 years old, with brown skin, piercing blue eyes, and jet-black hair. Tattoos adorned his body.

His hair was styled in a neat afro. An eagle tattoo marked his right arm, and a cross, his left. Two women's names were inked across his chest.

Damian was a mafia boss, both respected and feared in his territory. He ruled the secret mafia world and drug cartel in North Wind Town.

Damian wore a black suit as he sat behind his desk, reviewing coded business transactions on his laptop. The off-white walls of his office were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Boss, Mr. Max Dawson is here to see you," Jeff Brody, his assistant, announced. Damian sighed.

His father had recently passed the leadership to him. He glanced at Jeff and replied, "Let him in."

Mr. Max Dawson, a businessman involved in illegal dealings, entered. Damian didn't bother to stand or offer a handshake.

"What do you want?" he asked, remaining seated and focused on his laptop.

Mr. Max swallowed hard. He knew dealing with Damian was more challenging than it had been with his father, Mark Tucker. The Tucker's name alone instilled fear in rival groups.

"It's business, Damian. A deal worth ten million dollars." Mr. Max was relieved when Damian finally looked up from his laptop, his gaze fixed on him.

"Sit," Damian gestured to the middle-aged man. "Go on." He ordered, and Mr. Max launched into the details of the proposition.

Damian listened intently. "So, what do you need my assistance for?" he finally asked.

"As the mafia Lord,' I need assurance that other groups won't interfere. I also require a loan to proceed," Mr. Max explained.

Damian was interested, but he had ulterior motives. Deals like this, he preferred to hijack personally rather than delegate to his organization.

"I'll lend you the money, but you must promise to repay it with interest. I don't care if the business succeeds or fails. I only care about my money," Damian stated. Mr. Max nodded quickly.

"You have nothing to worry about, Damian. I will pay you back, but I'll need your assistance," Mr. Max said, sitting across from Damian, who was watching him closely.

"Don't worry, Jeff will assist you. First, sign the agreement." Damian slid the document across the desk. His mind raced as he watched the man reach for a pen and sign.

"Done," Mr. Max said, a broad smile on his face as he stood to leave.

"I'll be looking forward to the date." Mr. Max exited, leaving Damian to contemplate the multi-billion dollar deal.

"I can't let him have that kind of money. It'll attract unwanted attention from higher authorities. I have to take care of it." A smirk crept across Damian's lips as he summoned Jeff.

"Take over Mr. Max's business and ensure the funds are transferred to my offshore accounts."

"Okay, Boss." Jeff's eyes widened slightly, but he wouldn't dare question Damian's orders. He looked up to Damian, who was only two years older, as an older brother.

He left to carry out the instructions.

*****

Months later, Mr. Max was devastated. The business had failed. After borrowing from the ruthless mafia lord, he had only a year to repay the ten million dollar loan.

"Honey, what's wrong?" Mrs. Jennifer Dawson, a middle-aged woman of 45, entered the room and saw her husband pacing anxiously.

"I'm finished!" he exclaimed, clutching his head.

"You can't be finished, honey. Talk to me," Jennifer pleaded.

"I shouldn't have trusted that son of a devil! Doing business with his father wasn't this bad. Our deals weren't hijacked by the government. Now, I've lost everything I worked for."

Mr. Max was on the verge of tears. He shouldn't have trusted Damian to handle the business. The man was too young and inexperienced as a mafia leader.

"Calm down, honey. Talk to me," Jennifer tried to soothe him, but he slapped her hand away and shouted, "Don't touch me! Where am I going to get ten million dollars to pay the T-Group?"

"The T-Group? Who are they? Calm down, honey. We can raise the money. Where did you borrow such a huge amount from? Why would you even borrow that much? For gambling?" Jennifer asked, shocked.

"Get out of my room! I don't have time to explain. Just leave me alone. If I don't raise that money in a year, they'll come for us. All of them. You need to leave with the kids. They shouldn't come back here. I'm finished."

Jennifer stubbornly shook her head. "I can't leave you to die alone, honey. You can't turn me into a widow at this age. You shouldn't have borrowed the money in the first place. Calm down, we can figure out how to raise it."

Mr. Max stormed off to his office, leaving his wife alone in the bedroom, pacing and wondering what had gone wrong.

Later that night, Jennifer found her youngest daughter, Alicia, in the living room.

"What's going on, Mom? I heard you and Dad arguing?" Alicia, a 19-year-old nursing student, asked. With fair skin and blonde hair, she resembled her mother.

"It's your father. He borrowed ten million dollars and now, he's lost everything." Jennifer cried.

"What?! Ten million dollars? Where do we even begin to pay that off? Oh no! We're doomed, Mom, if Dad can't pay it!" Alicia joined her mother, crying in the living room. They were rich, so why would her father borrow such a huge amount?

It meant they would have to sell some of their properties. But would it even be enough to cover the debt? Alicia sobbed.