The Russian mafia princess and the Italian mafia king. It's a wise old mafia tale: they are each other's biggest competitor, but the heart doesn't see competition it just sees love... sometimes.
Sometimes the darkness just needs some light and the...
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"Everything looks beautiful Carlos,"
We've been at that ball for what feels like 6 hours, but it's only been 2 hours. 2 hours of smaller mafias reaching out to see if we'll back them, trade with them, accept an arranged marriage, and just gushing over Enzo and me.
It's all fake, if given the opportunity each and every single one of these bottom feeder mafias would jump at any chance to take us down. Which is why they'll stay as bottom feeders- they don't know how to weaponize loyalty.
Loyalty is a big thing in our mafia. I mean you wouldn't want to go into a battle with someone who doesn't have your back, that's a recipe for disaster. Our men and women go into a war ready to risk it all for our families and that's why we're going to win this- we're doing it as family.
"Yes, thank you Katya," he snickered, grabbing the waist of his blonde date who didn't even look 18. "Excuse we have to go mingle with the trash of the mafias, you know have to make them feel welcome," he chuckled.
"That is one vile man," Enzo whispered while turning his body to face me after Carlos had moved on. "And I'm pretty sure his date was like 17," I replied symptomatically.
It's not uncommon for mafia men to bring young women to this event that they had picked up off their street. Seeing the lavish ball the women typically beg to stay with the men, in hopes that he'll be their sugar daddy, or at least a jon who won't hit her.
But all they sign up for is a close encounter with people who rival the devil.
"Hey, I'm going to go talk to the Turkish mafia don, you wanna come," He asked while interlocking my fingers with his, "do I want to have my ass smacked by another man who's older than my father?"
Pausing for dramatic effect I lift my other hand putting my finger on my cheek and tapping it lightly while murmuring "hmms".
"I'll think I'll pass." A soft laugh escaped his lips, and he sounds just like my carefree Enzo.
The man who cried watching The Notebook with me, who offers to take me to Target because he 'loves' to hear me babble about their products. The man who cooks me breakfast and brings it to me shirtless with a shit eating grin.
But as quick as the laugh came it left.
Nodding his head he gave me a quick peck on the cheek, and with a stone-cold expression went to greet the Turkish leader.
Shifting my body, I quickly look around until I see the familiar shiny brown hair that belongs to Alina. Heading over to her, I quickly grabbed her arm and after giving a half ass apology to the man that she was speaking to, led her outside of the ballroom.
This is why I love this bitch; literally didn't say a word and she's letting me drag her around like a ragdoll.
Once we were outside, I double checked our surroundings to make sure that we were alone, once satisfied I looked at Alina's blank face.
