Vivienne

3.

While waiting impatiently for Ezra to tell me what he could possibly wish from me, he took the liberty to admire my paintings.
The ones that were scattered all over the floor, the ones stacked together against the wall and the ones that are ripped apart next to the trash.

He looks at every single one of them. As if they're worth more money than he makes a day.

And he's making millions.

Whenever I'm not satisfied with one of my works, I often rip them apart. I get very frustrated when something doesn't come out the way I want it to.
That's one of my weaknesses, my temper. I admit, I often choose rather rational decisions than reasonable ones.

„While I was away, I came to face certain..problems." he stopped mid-walk. Eyeing one of my special paintings. My personal favourite painting I've made in my entire lifetime. The one I painted with her.
Protectiveness came over me. If he dares to touch it even one time, he will end up with a bullet wound in his body right now. Possibly several ones.

Ezra noticed my stare and sneered at me while touching some of my other paintings with his dirty ass hands.
I swear to the lord I would chop them off if I had a knife right now. And probably fed them to my dogs. Speaking of my pups, I haven't seen them lately. I wonder what Lucifer did today, I hope he bit my father's ass just like I asked him t-

„I'm old my love, old enough for mothers to bug me everywhere I go, to walk down the aisle with their daughters. The men in the mafia also expected me to have at least 3 heirs by now. I finally want to fulfil those expectations." finally keeping his hands off my portrait, he looks at me. Interrupting my daydreams about my sweet dogs. Asshole. Also what the fuck does that mean for me.

Oh.
Realisation hit me.
I stay silent for a few moments. Letting the atmosphere grow. Then I burst out laughing. I laugh so hard my stomach hurts, "Wait a-a minute.." then I start laughing again. Then I saw his perplexed glare.

I know that men his age are mostly married with an heir on the way. The expectations in the mafia are tremendous, keeping you down, and forcing you to meet them. My father wanted me to be pregnant and engaged, even married by now. But I burst his imaginary bubble just like his kneecap a few months ago for even pointing out marriage.

"What, you expected me to fall on my knees begging you to marry me and impregnate me on our first night of the honeymoon? Ezra my dear you've become so..desperate as I see. Only weeks ago I've seen how you overlook women who are basically on their knees with their asses up for you. What changed? Surely not my glamour." I smiled at his furious expression. It is so easy to anger him. I adore mocking him.

Crossing my arms and tilting against my painting dresser, I wait for him to calm down. Since I surely hit the nerve with that comment. He has just the same temper as me. Sadly we do have some similarities.

"Darling. Our fighting has lasted for years, decades even. Since we were young we fought every chance we got. I've become old now, I need to fulfil my duty as the next in line for the throne. Have a wife and a son. Securing my wealth. You know how these things go. I do not wish to find a wife when a tolerable woman is standing right in front of me."
He comes closer, each word leaving his mouth gets quieter. What confuses me even more is the fact that he called me tolerable.

"I want to compromise with you. You get a throne, I get my heir. Boom we're both happy." By the time he finished walking, our noses practically touched. Something prickled under my skin. That's way too close for enemies. Way too close for my liking. He looks deep into my eyes finding his answer, trying to force it out of me. But I won't satisfy him.

"Funny how you think I want your fucking throne." I spit out, taking a step closer to him, forcing him to step away.

"I want my own. One I will build myself. I want to grow my legacy, gain reputation and respect on my own without any help, especially not from a pathetic man like you." I can hear the rage rising with each one of my words.

The nerve he had, coming into my room without any invitation, making me an outrageous proposal while getting way too close for my liking.

With each step I take towards him, he takes one back. Away from me.

"I do not want your respect. I do not want to be known as the wife of a Don. I do not desire to be seen as a baby maker of some sort, standing behind you, obeying you. I will be Donna, and nobody will stop me from doing so."

"And that, I will accomplish on my own. And I most certainly do not desire to carry your name or your damn child." I was the one caging him against a wall right now.

He was merely grinning at me like I just said the most amusing joke he ever heard. Which only makes me more frustrated. Snatching my gun from my lower back, I point it at his dick. His eyes almost popped out of its sockets. He takes in a quick breath. Taking the safety off, I warned him.

„If I were you, darling, I wouldn't breathe too loud." I smirked at his terrified expression. Men really do value their dicks.

He quit smiling. Him obeying me, felt like an accomplishment on its own, and let me tell you how this feels.

Sneak peek, really good.

„Remember one thing before heading into my room and invading my space, Ezra. If you end up with a bullet wherever I wished for it to be, it's on your account." With those words, I pulled the trigger.

———

While I observed my father frantically wandering around his office I review my social media. There aren't many intriguing things that happened in the last few days. Shame.

„Are you out of your mind, child!?" he screams watching me with an oblivious face. I raise my eyebrow.

„I am most certainly not. He invaded my space without my permission and dared to get close. He deserved it." I point out.

My father only shook his head in dissatisfaction. Seating himself behind his desk.
"Он следующий итальянский Дон. Ты понимаешь, что он может начать войну из-за этого?" he explained like I was a child not knowing what they were doing.

"He's the next Italian Don. Do you understand that he could start a war because of this?"

"Он ничего не начнёт. Он сделал мне идиотскую предложение, не зная как я могу реагировать. Он этого заслужил." I reasoned.

"He won't start anything. He made me a stupid proposal, not knowing how I would react. He deserves it."

He sighed in defeat, "Don't be so sure about that."

Rolling my eyes, I stood up from one of the chairs facing his desk.
Right before I could open the door, my father spoke.
"The Adragna's are our most important associates. Do not let this little rivality ruin our relationship with the Italians"

———

After I shot Ezra in his balls, he was rushed to the hospital while my family stared at me in shock, right before my father screamed from the top of his lungs to meet him in his office. I mean, I do understand them, shooting the future Italian Don isn't really a respectful thing to do. But I stood my ground.

Ezra's blood made a beautiful portrait I must say. When I shot him, he was standing right beside some blank canvas. The splash of blood somehow amazed me. I'll probably hang it later and add it to my collection.

How should I name it though?
Overstepped, sounds good. Just like he overstepped my boundaries.

I found it hilarious.

I even laughed out loud, because of an article that I found the very next morning.

Italy's most beloved business man, in the hospital with an interesting injury!

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