MAFIA MARRIAGE

I held the razor sharp knife tightly. I took no notice of the way the blade cut deep into the flesh of my palm. I took no notice of my crimson blood which spilt out and stained the carpet below. It relieved me. To feel my body in physical pain was a great distraction from the emotional pain that troubled me. I was not one to harm myself but I did not know how to react and my knife, it was just there.

Father wanted me to get married to a stranger. No, he forced me to. He left me with no choice. Granted, I could run. I could hide. But I will not. My whole life, I have been nothing but a disappointment to him and this affirmed it. I was nothing more than a mere commodity, an object to trade at his will.

He never fucking liked me and I did nothing to earn his approval because I would never get it.

l am Alessia Ferrari the Don of the Italian mafia. Father only passed it down to me because he is dying and he has no male heirs, which is quite unfortunate for the bastard. He did not even have any illegitimate sons despite the fact that he fucked day in and day out. He hated watching me take over his mafia, making it mine, making the power mine. But I never asked for this life.

Sadly, I grew up as an only child being raised by maids and nannies. Father was far too busy and he was disgusted by me anyway. The phrase 'Hai ucciso tua madre' (you killed your mother' was something I have heard every single day of my life. Mother, my beautiful mother died during childbirth. I did not mean to kill her, I did not ask to be born. So there he was my cruel wicked father, who forced my mother into marrying him.

know he forced her, she can not have been in love with him.

The maids often told me of what a beautiful mother was. How wildly spirited she was. And how father broke her piece by piece. In a way I am glad she is not here, she broke free and me, I am still here.

So here I sat, thinking of a way out. It was impossible. If I were to run away, my whole life would be false. I was born to be a Don. The power ran in my veins. Besides father would hunt me down and no doubt have someone slit my throat while I slept. Perhaps I could kill the bastard. But if someone found out, fuck, I am screwed.

I an only twenty three and he had offered my hand without even asking me. He never would have asked. The thought of marriage never crossed my mind. Perhaps a couple of times when I was a young girl. But l always imagined of marrying a prince. Not the boss of the American fucking mafia.

The American mafia was well known for its reputation of being manipulative and brutal. They were deadly, even was impressed. The mafia boss; I did not know much about, but only his name. I was to be wedded to Ace Hernandez.

The roles of women in mafias are very traditional. To obey and serve. To be complacent doormats. Fucks sake. If father thinks by uniting our mafia's through marriage would mean me giving up my mafia to fucking Ace, he's got another thing coming.

And if Ace fucking Hernandez expects me to obey and serve, I will gladly cut out his fucking heart and shove it down his throat. I am no one doormat.

Father, as he put it, gave me a way to ally with the American mafia. To ensure peace between our mafia and theirs. No one wanted a war. So what am I supposed to do? It was a strategic move nothing more.

"KC!" I yelled. Not a moment later a pretty blonde entered my bedroom. KC is my best friend and one of my many guards.

She is highly intelligent and a skilled killer. I wanted a woman to be my personal guard mainly to overthrow the patriarchal system in the mafia.

"KC I need you to call a maid to pack my things ready for tomorrow," I spoke as I stared down at my hand. Dried blood coated my fingertips as the cut in my palm still bled. The pain didn't bother me.

I have suffered worse and survived.

KC nodded and walked over to me. She sighed kneeling down beside me. She gently held my hand in hers as she procured the knife from my grip. "Let us get you cleaned up." She smiled warmly. She didn't ask what happened, she knew.

I watched her bandage my hand gently and very neatly. I felt numb, cold and alone. I sipped bourbon from a crystal glass in hopes that it would make me feel warm inside but it never did. My hand throbbed almost as much as the headache I have now acquired.

"Your father still wants you to marry?" KC asked as she took a seat on the edge of my bed, crossing her legs. She knows I've practically begged him to stop this marriage, she knows how he just laughed at me, telling me to fuck off.

"Yes." I walked over to my balcony windows and looked into the night sky. Stars glimmered and shone, with a shooting star falling. I wished for happiness. I have argued with my father to no avail. It is a done deal. I ran a finger down my cheek, where my father slapped me last. I may not be bruised but I will always remember. I closed my eyes as I wished for his death over and over again. If only I could do it and free myself but that is another predicament. If I kill him, my mafia would turn on me. I would be shunned and disowned. After all there

is no crime greater than killing your own blood.

I turned back to face KC. Her brown eyes held so much pity for me. I did not like that one bit. But I appreciated her so much. "I just want to be alone right now," I spoke, my voice laced with sadness. Her eyes lowered to the ground. She walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder, in a way to reassure me. There was nothing more she could say or do. I felt her fingers lightly squeeze my shoulder before she left my room,

closing the door behind her.

I was not alone for long, a maid came by as I requested to pack my things. I drank some more bourbon neat while I watched her scramble to pack my clothes. "Non mettere in valigia la mia lingerie. Sei pazza? Pensi che andrò a letto con lui (Do not fucking pack my lingerie. Are you insane? Do you think I am just going to fuck him?)

I growled. The maid flinched when I spoke. I was being too harsh, I was fucking angry.

Fuck.

What if he is old or a disgusting womaniser? What if he beats women? I would never let him touch me. I shook my head of these thoughts when I received an incoming call.

"Yes...I see. ten minutes and I will be there." I spoke on the phone to one of my guards who was taking care of a little problem. Seems as though you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I sighed and pulled on a black hoodie over my crop top and jeans. I changed out of my heeled boots and into sneakers.

Things were about to get messy. I left the maid in my room and headed outside.

I slipped into my favourite red Ferrari as I looked at the setting sun through the tinted windows. Hues of red, amber and yellow blended into each other, a pretty picture. KC promptly took a seat beside me and strapped herself in.

I knew I had to leave tonight to make it in time to reach America tomorrow to see that man. But that's the luxury of owning your own plane, I could leave whenever I wanted to.

I turned on the ignition to the car and felt the thrilling purr of the engine. I pushed my foot down and floored the car to its destination. Perhaps this is as free as I will ever feel.

I winded down small streets and along long empty roads. I was breaking every law yet I evaded justice.

I was the law in Italy.

Upon arriving at a desolate warehouse, I exited my car. My dark mid back length hair fluttered across my face as I failed to tie it into a ponytail. As I walked towards the building, I was immediately let inside and some guards even bowed their heads. Respect was earned, never given. And I had earned everything I worked for.

The room I was led to was small and damp. The place reeked of a metallic odour. A blend of blood and bleach, almost enough to make you gag. I smirked when I saw a man tied up on a metal chair. A fucking rat.

"l absolutely despise snitches because we all know they are nothing but bitches." I spoke as the man did not dare to look into my eyes. "And you know what they say, snitches end up in ditches. But that is not how I run things. You see, stealing punishable by death, killing punishable by death, snitching punishable by, you guessed it, death." I grinned evilly.

I chuckled darkly as I turned my back to the man. "Even if you simply annoy the fuck out of me, I'd kill you."

I faced the man who remained mute. He was bloodied and beaten as I had requested. And yet he gave nothing away. I wanted to know to who he snitched about my business affairs to. For the worst thing, any mafia could have been reckless immature snitches, running off to the police or singing to the highest bidders.

The police are in my pockets, but that does not mean they will not bring me down. I know for a fact that they are building a case against me. I let them as it amuses me a great deal. How do they think they can touch me? How do they think they can bring me down? No one can bring me down.

"So you will not talk? | have no use for you." I stated as I pulled out my knife from my pocket. The ugly middle aged man seemed to have awoken from his muted trance and tried to pull at his bonds. " Vuo cagna! (You bitch!)" He yelled.

I gasped as I held a hand to my heart. "You hear that KC, he called me a bitch. Me a bitch, never." I smirked as I approached the man. In an instant, I had pushed the knife deeply across his throat in a single straight line.

Blood spluttered out as it sprayed onto me. I watched as it took exactly five seconds for the man to choke on his own blood and surrender to death. A real nasty way to go but necessary. I can't be lenient because once I do, everyone will know me as a soft touch. And they will walk all over me, like a doormat. I have already had it tough, being a woman.

I pulled out my phone from my pocket and checked the time.

I suppose I had better go. Father will be waiting for me and God if I am late.

A guard handed me a towel and I wiped my hands and some of the blood that stained my face.

The mess here would be cleaned up and sorted in the blink of an eye. The body would vanish, blood washed away. The snitch would be wiped from existence.

After driving to my plane, I shrugged off my hoodie and tossed it to the ground. I walked up the few steps onto the plane. My body stiffened at the sight of my father who was already seated inside. The fuck. Fuck fuck.

Father noticed me and scowled. A look I have grown

accustomed to. "My my Alessia, you look like merda (shit). I do not know how I got you married of." He rasped, chuckling at his own joke.

I clenched my teeth and sat on the furthest seat on the spacious plane away from him. I was wanting to take this time to sleep but my father had other plans. His stare never left me as he continued talking. "You will have to dress better than that once we go to meet the Americans." He prattled, pulling a loose thread from his grey suit.

I placed my head in my hand as I so wanted to take the edge off my father's incessant whining. "Whatever you do, do not disrespect the Americans. If your husband, what is his name, Ace? What a stupid name. If he wants to have his way with you, you let him. Do you understand me?" He grunted awaiting an answer from me. I hated talking back to him. I hated being in the same space as him.

I nodded my head falsely. Does father really not care about me? That he would allow his only daughter to be sold off, uncaring for who's hands I will be in. I scoffed to myself. If he hated me so much, he should have just killed me. Because I will kill him one day. And that day is coming soon.

Father leapt up from his seat and took a few menacing steps toward me. Fuck. My stare did not waver from him. I knew what he was about to do. But I still flinched when he grabbed my wrist roughly. "Do you understand?" He growled.

I placed my head in my hand as I so wanted to take the edge off father's incessant whining. "Whatever you do, do not disrespect the Americans. If your husband, what's his name, Ace? What a stupid name. If he wants to have his way with you, you let him. Do you understand me?" He grunted awaiting an answer from me. I hated talking back to him. I hated being in the same space as him.

I nodded my head falsely. Does father really not care about me? That he would allow his only daughter to be sold off, uncaring for whose hands I will be in. I scoffed to myself. If he hated me so much, he should have just killed me. Because I will kill him one day. And that day is coming soon.

Father leaped up from his seat and took a few menacing steps toward me. Fuck. My stare did not waver from him. I knew what he was about to do. But I still flinched when he grabbed my wrist roughly. "Do you understand?" He growled as I tried to avoid inhaling his putrid breath.

"Yes, father," I said through clenched teeth. I could poison him. But someone would know, they'd always know. "Good."

He said as he let go of my wrist and walked back to his seat. I breathed out slowly as I looked away from him.

After a long agonising flight, we finally reached our destination. I could not sleep because he was there sol was tired as fuck. We got booked into a hotel and I collapsed onto the bed, feeling more love from the soft sheets than I ever would from my own father.