4

Theo•

"You don't have choice, Theo." My father, Fernando Santos, complains annoyingly. He's been going on and on about this fucking topic since the past few months.

"I do." I reply, carelessly shrugging my shoulders as I wrap my fingers around my necklace, trying to control my anger.

"Seriously?" He yells over the blasting club music. "You just turned twenty-five and you haven't even thought about marriage. You're getting too old."

Twenty-five is still young, is he on crack?

Instead of replying, I roll my head onto the couch and shut my eyes. I can't deal with his crap right now. He's always been like this-forcing me into shit I don't want to do.

"Life is short, son, especially if you're in the mafia. You'll need heirs by thirty, at the most." He stops before speaking again, hoping this last sentence would make me want to marry some random girl. "And, it'll be a good alliance."

If he doesn't shut up right now, I'll fucking shoot him.

"No." I respectfully decline his offer, for what seems like the millionth time since I have turned twenty-five. If it was up to this man, he'd have me married the night I fucking turned eighteen.

"You will at least meet the girl tomorrow and that is final." He warns lowly, leaving no room for arguments. It's not that I had to comply to him, I didn't. But I respect him, and I'm exhausted of him taking advantage of the fact. "You're acting as if I chose some puttana for you. She is beautiful, well-educated, and independent." (whore)

"How old?" I ask, finally giving in and wanting to ruin the rest of day even further.

"Twenty." A small smile of victory leans onto his face as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

"Cazzo, she in her second year of college. And her parents are okay with her marrying so young?" I interrogate, slightly bothered by marrying a girl significantly younger than me. (Fuck,)

"It's crazy, but they said she didn't mind." He shakes his head as if he was surprised himself.

"Name?" I drop the age-gap topic and ask the basic necessities.

"Elisia." Father responds almost immediately, as if I'd change my mind if he didn't reply fast enough. Which I probably would do. "Full name is Elisia Alfonso."

She's a Alfonso? Spanish mafia?

"Dominic's daughter?" I question, quite amused. The Spanish and Italian's aren't necessarily enemies, but they aren't the best buddies either. I see why father wants me to marry the heir of the Spanish, because it would practically be under my control whenever Dominic decides to step down.

"Yes," he pauses, also sensing the inevitable weirdness, "there's something odd about that family. Why would he want to marry off his daughter so young? She's the only heir to his mafia."

Yeah, and look at you-trying to get me to fucking marry her.

"Looks like he wants to get rid of her." I mutter out, speaking of the most obvious reason Dominic would want to marry his daughter at the age of twenty.

Father nods, slightly agreeing with me, before speaking again, "You will have dinner at their house tomorrow, 7:00 pm. I'll send you the address." Then, finally, after about an hour of trying to convince me, the man turns to leave.

Great.

"And, take Sergio with you." He mentions as he walks out the door, successfully tainting my entire day.

Fuckin' great.

Sergio is my brother. He's two years younger than me, and is a fucking pain in my ass.

My phone buzzes and I pull it out of my back pocket, only to be disappointed by the notification. Speak of the fucking devil-it's Sergio.

Sergio

What time you picking me up?

Me

Drive yourself, dickhead.

Sergio

We live in the same house and you're telling me to drive myself? We are going to the same place, dingus.

Me

I don't care. You're fucking annoying.

Sergio

Hello? Gas prices?

Me

We have money.

Sergio

That's no fun. :( I'll be ready at 6:30 p.m.

Me

Go to hell.

Sergio

:D

I practically slam my phone down on the glass table next to me and take a sip of my Whiskey, swirling the glass around after. I look towards the dance floor and see people dancing, having fun.

Unintentionally, I glance over at the entrance and do a double take as quick as I can. A girl walks in. She's pretty. No, scratch that-fucking stunning.

I haven't seen her around here.

Is she new?

She's wearing a black leather skirt paired with a black cropped top. Her curves are executed perfectly as she walks, swaying her hips. Her dark, curly hair falls down to her waist, effortlessly making her look like some type of goddess.

I can't resist women with naturally long hair. Especially curly...

I watch as she looks around for someone, and her gorgeous, green eyes light up as soon as she sees a guy walking towards her. He hugs her tightly, his hands inching towards her ass.

Asshole.

I take another sip of my drink and watch as he pulls back and leans into kiss the beautiful, mystery woman.

And, she rejects him.

I almost spit my fucking drink out of my mouth.

She says something, laughing awkwardly and he leans in for an attempt to kiss her again.

Again? Man, you have to be desperate.

Take the goddamn hint.

She hesitates, but kisses him back. A very short, fast one that doesn't even count as a fucking kiss.

"Boss?" I hear someone by the door.

"Hm?" I hum along, my eyes still fixed on how that guy is staring at her tits, not having enough decency to even pretend so.

She deserves better.

When the person doesn't reply, I turn my head and see Donovan, a member of my mafia. "The shipments, boss." He takes a moment to see if he has my complete attention before continuing, making me realize it's some type of bad

news. "There is someone blocking them off."

"Cazzo, find out who and report back to me." I order, becoming irritated at the entire day. First my father forcing this arranged marriage shit on me, then, this sudden shift in business. (Fuck)

And who the fuck is dumb enough to mess with my business? I guess we'll find the fuck out.

I can't help, but go back to stalking the couple-more like the mystery woman. I see the little frat boy leading her somewhere off to the back. I have the urge to go get her, but it's not my place at all.

Buzz.

I ignore the message, knowing it's probably Sergio being a fucker again.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz. Buzz.

I open my messages to handle the little shithead and as soon as I see the messages, I have the urge to fucking kill.

Ramos

Long time no see, brother.

Me

I'd like to keep it that way.

Ramos

I heard you were getting married? You're not gonna invite me, man?

Me

After what you did to our mother and sister, you think we want shit to do with you?

Ramos

Not sure. I guess we will see!

Fuck my life.

I don't want anything to do with that fucking bastard. He has some bloody nerve, after everything he did.

A phone calls causes the vibrations to shoot through my hands, making me look down at the caller identification. It's Isabella.

I answer immediately, knowing what this might be about.

"Ciao, sorella." I answer, greeting her. (Hello, sister.)

"Ramos ti ha mandato un messaggio anche lui? Non voglio mai vederlo, cazzo. Per favore, fai qualcosa, Dio. Lo odio, cazzo-" She rambles on and on, her nervousness clearer than ever. (Did Ramos text you too? I don't want to fucking see him, ever. Please do something, God, I fucking hate him-)

I hate when she panics like this. She's only twenty-one years old. I feel horrible, not being able to keep her out of all this crap.

Isabella is the most irrational girl you'll ever meet, but more than that, she has the sweetest fucking soul, who doesn't deserve half the things that have happened to her.

"Calmati, Isabella. Non farà un cazzo. Lo ucciderò cazzo se prova qualcosa. Non c'è bisogno di avere paura, non quando sono ancora qui, sorella."

I speak, trying to calm her. (Calm down, Isabella. He won't do shit. I'll fucking kill him if he tries anything. You don't need to be scared, not when I'm still here, sister.)

I hear her take a couple of deep breaths until she speaks again, "Grazie, fratello." (Thank you, brother.)

And with that, she hangs up. I look up just in time to see that frat boy walk out of the door.

Where's mystery woman?

After a minute or so, she comes into view. She walks over to the barstool she was sitting at earlier and orders another drink.

She turns around, glancing everywhere, until her eyes lock with mine. She's absolutely gorgeous. I tilt my head slightly as my eyes roam over her flawlessly made figure.

Cazzo, she's so damn perfect. (Fuck,)

Her full, pink lips part a little as she eyes me down. I don't know how long we held eye contact for, but it felt like years. Suddenly, her eyes were off me and on that damn bartender who's giving her the drink. I silently curse the waiter and fight the urge to fire him-it is my club after all.

"Boss, we need you." Donovan rushes into the room, breathlessly as he motions me to follow him.

"Fucking hell, what now?" I grunt, getting up, purely regretting my entire existence at this moment. A man can't get a moment of fucking peace.

I follow Donovan, to wherever he's leading me to. We finally stop outside, behind my club. I look down, and see two men in a pool of crimson, red blood. It looks fresh, as if it had just happened.

"How the fuck did this happen? Behind my club? On the guards watch?" I snap, utterly annoyed and frustrated.

"We don't know, boss. The cameras aren't showing anything." He explains, furiously furrowing his eyebrows. "Someone hacked us, it'll take a couple of days to get the footage back."

Fuck. My. Life.