Chapter 3: The Girl in with the Rainbow Bracelet

Massimo's POV

                                       ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ⟡ • ⟡ •⟡ • ⟡ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“No,you can’t… you can’t  do this…” Viktor shrieks.

Over the last few years I had known this day would come. The day when I would have the last of Spain’s most feared dons VIcktor cowering before me on the top of my three-storey building torture house right in the middle of the busiest Marbella market.

I have never fooled myself. I am a villain, I rebuilt my father's empire, on violence, guns, drugs, with the cover of fashion, tech, wine, art, and all the tiny little wrappings normal people wrap dirty business in. But that's the difference between me and this man. 

Discretion.

It is what differentiates a monster from a villain. And this man right here is a monster. Not only could he not stomach that a Ponteza mafioso like me, half Italian and half Spanish, was taking over the mafia world. Spain, Italy, Las Vegas and the rest of the network.

He also crossed the lines I drew.

Children. My disgust when I realised that the overly religious bastard trying to bring me down, built a church and dutifully attended mass but trafficked the young and helpless when he didn't need to. 

The Mafia crime ring didn't have to be dishonourable.

 Him and the others I have taken out were the scum of my world. He was the last of the dishonourable dons in the mafia world. I had picked him right outside the church. Eliminating him and his likes had been my life's work, a work my father started and I was finishing.

“Bring me four of his fingers, two from each hand,” I order my man, sipping the gin.

It's a pity I won't live long enough to clean others like him who will spring up later, but my brother and others would finish where I stopped.

One of my men stops in my rear view, my phone buzzing in his hands.

I wave him over and he approaches.

“Dave is still waiting for you to approve the 100 million dollar renovation in Greece, and he also wants to talk...”

“Tell him to call back at ten.” I cut in. 

He nods.  “Don, your mother also called.”

I gaze at him stretching my hand out and he hands me the phone. I quickly scan the long list of missed calls and emails.

My mom’s chat pops up. She always resorted to sending a chat, whenever she called and I didn't pick.

Judging by the noise from the market it would be easier to go with the chat. So I open her chat and read.

Mother: We need to talk.

Mother: Navarro's daughter arrived in Italy.

I stare at the message across the glowing screen, wondering how that could possibly concern me.

Then it registers.

Fuck.

The betrothal. Not right now. I barely remember. My uncle Alejandro had secured a bride for me with the late boss Leopoldo Navarro's daughter, that no one knew about. Not that it would have taken me anything to find her if I wanted. I just didn't want to. The marriage was to foster and open up the Valencia route for our ammunition and also to clean our money. We had expanded to all parts of the world and we had so much legitimate business that cleaning up the money was no longer a big deal, but I had already signed those fucking papers. And as a Don I must keep my word. This was beyond me, it was my family's honour.

Damn it.

Mother : Are you there?

Massimo: Yes, when did she arrive?

Mother: My sources say five days ago. Her mother came in two days before, but she reached out today. She will be coming to the mansion. How early can you get here? We need to start making plans. You delayed enough. It's not like when you signed the betrothal contract and didn't even wait to see the bride. Beatrix sounds like a nice girl.

Massimo: Who is Beatrix?

Mother: 😡 Are you kidding? Your bride of course. You told me you got this.

Massimo: Yes mama, I do.

I don't remember seeing that name on the papers that day. Not that I would remember. It had been years. A lot has changed. Then I was desperate. My uncle had suggested Navarro Leopoldo, and Leopold had been eager to cement the deal in marriage. Too eager. And it had happened. Desperate I had come in, signed, and left before the man even arrived with his daughter. We were supposed to meet up for the wedding when she turned eighteen, I just couldn't, eighteen was still a kid and kids were never my thing and a few days after, an ally came from my Las Vegas contacts, giving me the breakthrough I needed. Enough to scale, enough to wipe out the motherfuckers who tried to ruin me and I did. But I guess she is older now and wants to honour her family too.

Suddenly I had the perfect way out. A smile crosses my face. I had never been more happy that I was dying. I pick up my phone and type my reply.

Massimo: Ok, I will be back by the end of the month.

This would be the most dishonourable thing I will ever do, but I just had to stall this wedding then when I die, my younger brother will be the one to marry her.

Perfect.

If you refuse the transplant you might not make it till next fall, the doctor had said on my last visit.

I just had to count on death following the schedule. This was the best for everyone. I had built everything my family needed. Now I was also giving them a wife. And preventing the poor girl from becoming a depressed young widow. When I die just like my doctor predicted, everything will fall in place.

Only a maniac will be happy about his death and that is what I am. 

This was all figured out.

I turn to the bloody fingers now on the plate and run my hand over them.

Viktor is passed out from either loss of blood or the pain, or both. I almost smiled at the sight. I can't believe people once thought this bastard a legend.

“Resusciate him,” I order.

I stand and walk to the large window to stare out into the market space. I had chosen to place one of my torture houses, right in the market. Some thought it brilliant, others thought it insane, but to me it's perfect.

The mixture of emotions. The happiness, the liveliness, ricocheting through the market outside while torture, verdict and death was being delivered on the inside. 

The perfect metaphor.

The beauty of it.

Something catches my eye, a flash of colour, a rainbow bracelet. Then I see the girl wearing it.

I blink, then blink again, because time seems to come to a standstill. And my breath lodges in my chest.

Dark lustre of shiny hair ripples from a head framing a face so divine it's possible I'm conjuring her up. A terminal heart can do that to a man.

But I'm not conjuring her, because she is right there in the middle of the market, laughing so hard the rainbow bracelet vibrates on her right wrist as she caresses a plant. I have seen people laugh, but then there is her. Her eyes crinkling with so much happiness, so genuine. 

I close my eyes and rub my now bloody hands against my temple. When I open them, just as I suspected.

She is real. The perfect face still holding the most perfect smile.

The way she caresses that plant like a lover.

Fuck.

My throat goes dry.

I study her more closely. She is with another woman, a blonde who is speaking to a seller. She spots another plant and walks towards it, It's a dying plant. She kneels beside it. Her fingers brushing over its yellow leaves. Her smile disappears and I feel my heart tighten. It’s ridiculous, she looks more upset about a plant than most people look at funerals. Yet I can’t look away.

What's happening and why am I reacting this way to a girl I just met with a damn rainbow bracelet?