Mafia King

“Get up.”

The owner of the voice pulled off the blanket covering me. I stirred slightly. “Get up. You’re going to cook.” Shaking me roughly this time, finally, waking me up. I rubbed my eyes while sitting up.

I stare at him groggily, trying to clear his godly image. The mafia boss was scowling at me.

“Don’t make me wait.” He then stormed out leaving me to still process everything.

“So you decided that I’m going to be your maid?” I asked once I set his breakfast.

“For now. You saved my inconvenience to hire someone. Can’t have another repeat of what happened the other night.” I winced, inhaling a sharp breath.

He started eating his breakfast. I cleared my throat before speaking. “I need clothes.” I said almost in a whisper.

He stopped delivering the food to his mouth and he turned his head to look at me. There was a slight glare on his eyes. “What?”

“I need clothes. I have been wearing this outfit for two days now.” I made sure that I didn’t sound demanding and respect was found in my voice.

He snorted. “Is it another way of telling me- darling, buy me clothes, so I could give you my credit card?” He crossed his arms as he leaned languidly to the chair.

I frowned, not liking his insult. “Sorry to ruin your perfect assumption. I only meant that I needed to go home and change. Not all women are what you think or the same as those who you sleep with.”

“Ahh…” He lifted his lips upward with obvious mischief. “There’s that sassy mouth I love.” He got up from his chair and stood in front of me. He leaned his hand on the table while the other on his hip, making his height crouch down to match mine. Our faces only inches closer. My hand clasped each other in front of me, trying to maintain control and patience. “I can’t wait till I bring you to Italy with me, amore.” His grin was playful and mischievous.Nôvel/Dr(a)ma.Org - Content owner.

I crossed my arms and stood tall, challenging him. “Except you can’t. Avery will look for me. I don’t want to know how she’ll react when you break your promise.”

He chuckled. There was menace to it but hardly noticeable. “One day, amore, one day.”

I frowned. “Stop calling me that.” I hissed. “As you can see, I’m not Italian.”

He smirked. “I noticed.” His eyes were travelling to my eyes, nose and my lips and back up again. “But you do have a lovely accent. Do you think you sound the same when I fuck you to the moon and back?”

I turned away while trying to avoid the effects of his words. Angelo laughed. “I know your name, amore.” He paused. “Hailynn Fleury. You’re half French thus the sexy accent.”

I rolled my eyes. “Wow, it’s nice of you to know that. Did you investigate me or something?”

His eyes and lips were playful. “I’m trying to be discreet with my presence here, amore, so I only asked my cousin in law.” His face suddenly became solemn.

“Which reminds me… Hailynn Fleury.” He sauntered towards me. His intimidating height covered my form, eyes glowering intensely towards mine. “If you ever sing our situation or even utter my name to someone else, Avery and I’s promise are automatically invalid. If anything you do or say puts me in danger…” His intense eyes were studying me, spitting my name with heavy meaning. “Fleury, you’ll be kissing this life goodbye.”

I subconsciously swallowed my fear and this man knows I fear him. I nodded frantically.

—

I packed my clothes not minding what outfit it was. Well, considering I own a bunch of t-shirts and jeans, I guess it won’t matter. I don’t know until when I’d be staying with him and I’m hoping that I won’t be staying longer. Just as long as I don’t ‘sing’, maybe mister mafia here would let me off. I’m just thankful that Avery is keeping him grounded.

Angelo isn’t pretty bad which I observed. Just as long that I don’t irk him. At least he has some respect for me, aside from the fact that he blurts out sexual innuendos.

“Is that all your stuff?” Angelo asked from behind. I nodded, still focused on packing. “You’re not a typical girl, are you?”

I scrunch my eyebrows. My movements were slowing down. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t help but think that I am staring at a man’s clothes.”

I continued packing but now rushing it so he’d quit staring at my clothes. “That’s because it is a man’s clothes.” Shutting the suitcase finally. I huffed as I stood. When I turned to him, one of his eyebrows was raised.

“Interesting. You know I’ve never tasted someone who’s like you before.” He said while studying me. It sounded like I’m a rare dish for him.

I rolled my eyes. “Are you insinuating that I swing both sides?” There was a vague quirk on his lips. “Sorry to disappoint you, buddy, but I only swing on Ethan’s side.”

I let my eyes roam around my room, checking what I needed to bring. I thought by now he dropped the subject but surprisingly he asked.

“Who is Ethan?” Pure curiosity displayed on his face as I looked at him.

“Half owner of that painting you ruined… and previous owner of these shirts.” I muttered the second phrase lowly. He furrowed his eyebrows, probably hearing the last part.

I sat on my bed while picking up the thin silver laptop, one that Ethan always uses where he types all his stories. I stare at it thinking how I’m supposed to finish his book. I met his editor a few weeks ago. She suggested that I should try continuing the book, assuming that I knew how his mind works. And since I don’t have anything to do and I haven’t been in the mood to paint ever since his death, I figured I should try.

“You done?” He asked, bringing me out of my reverie. I nodded.

When we got out of my room, I noticed something against the wall of my living room covered in white sheet. I didn’t notice it when we came into my apartment. Probably because I was in a hurry to pack. It was huge and flat, much like a canvass. Weird. I don’t remember putting anything in there.

I sauntered towards the object in question. Angelo seemed not to mind that I’m slowing him down. I took the white sheet and unraveled the hidden piece beneath it.

To my utter surprise, it was the ruined painting. The huge hole was flashing before my eyes. I inhaled an almost silent cry and of course, my anger towards a certain angel.

“The least I could do is deliver the painting in your apartment safe and sound.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, right because you already have the honor of ripping it.” I turned to him while sniffing.

“It’s that important to you, huh?”

“Well, obviously.” Trying to hold back being snarky.

He smirked playfully. “Go on. Don’t hold back. You already knew I won’t be able to touch you.” He took a few steps towards me. “You’re angry with what I did to your masterpiece.”

“You also killed a man.”

“In which, amore, you’re not going to tell anyone. I already told you the cost of your voice.”

I looked at him squarely, letting him know my promise. “I won’t. I’m not that stupid.”

“Good.” He turns. “Let’s go.”