Rosa Sanchez. The first word that comes to mind is always 'power'. Known as Thorn by many, she seems to be the most dangerous woman in the world. But, she wasn't always like this. That leads many people to wonder how she came to be. What made an inn...
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I hated my father.
But I loved how easy it was to manipulate him.
One call and Avox Rivera was as good as dead.
The problem was, I didn't want him dead. He was tearing the Italian Mafia apart, which meant he was probably on my side but didn't realize it.
Which meant I was left with one choice.
"Shoot him in places that won't kill him quickly, he's in charge of the Italian Mafia, we let Accardo die too quickly. We won't get a chance like this again, let him suffer for a bit before he dies."
All I had to do was send along some men who were loyal to me. He was immediately flown to Spain and cared for here. Jazmin and Carlos agreed to take him in once he was released from the hospital.
But that was all I could do. Now I just had to wait and pray that the Cartel would slip back into my hands.
... Several months later
I refilled my wine glass.
This was my own personal version of Hell.
I watched Ana gardening outside. I wasn't sure where I would be without her.
I looked at my reflection in the wine glass.
You'd probably be dead on the side of the road.
I looked back at Ana and a smile crept onto my face.
My Aphrodite. My personal version of beauty.
Everything about her was complete perfection.
She disappeared from view for a moment then reappeared with a handful of roses.
The roses she had planted with my mother.
I fixed my eyes on the wine glass again.
It's 8 in the morning, Rosa. You need to stop.
I heard the back door slide open. Ana walked over to the table and placed the fresh roses in a vase.
She sat down beside me. "What did that wine do to you?"
I sighed. "I'm so sorry."
"I don't think it can hear you." She stood up and took the glass.
I rested my elbows on the table and hid my head in my hands. "Ana. You know I'm not talking to the damn wine."
I felt her hands on my shoulders. "How many times do I need to tell you it's alright? I knew something could go wrong, it's not your fault."
"But it is. I keep making you empty promises. You aren't safe, you aren't happy when I'm working, what kind of life is that?"
