"𝑨𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒎𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝑰 𝒇𝒖𝒄𝒌 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒊𝒍 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒐?"
___________
⚠️sᴛɪʟʟ ᴇᴅɪᴛɪɴɢ⚠️
___________
Haunted by the night when me and my mother were forced away from our daily lives in Mexico...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
8 ______.______
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I turn on my heels and walk out of the designated area for smoking. The glass door thuds behind me as I walk down the elongated white corridor, leading me back to the dining area.
"Why do you hate me?" Alessandro Galletti's question replays in my head. To be fair, there was no real reason why I felt this negatively towards him. So, I guess I can call it prejudice. What? Its not like the man is a fallen angel. Therefore, having a little prejudice towards him is completely fine.
My heels clack on the terrazzo flooring, being the only sound heard before the sound of the door behind me opening reaches my ears, and heavy footsteps accompany my sharp ones. I don't have to turn around to know that it is Alessandro Galletti, or that he is seriously pissed.
I smile discreetly to myself, enjoying his displeasure, even more so because I caused it. He follows silently until we get back to our table. My dad looks at Alessandros fury-engulfed expression and then to my smiling one. He nudges me under the table, and when I turn to look at him, he makes a questioning expression that practically asks what happened. I mouth "nothing," but he furrows his eyebrows and gives me a knowing look, mouthing back to me, "Well talk later," and drops the subject for the time being.
Why does he care anyways? Alessandro was being insufferable all night long, so what if I retaliated back a little? Now it is my turn to be mad, at both Alessandro and my dad. But even if I'm mad, I'm still going to eat because nothing and no one can stop me from finishing the delicious steak in front of me. So, I pick up my cutlery and start eating.
As I eat, dad, Leo, and Alessandro eventually start drifting into conversation about their job. They discuss possible alliances, the Russian mafia, or the Bravta, and the police that have been on their tail for at least two months now.
"I think there's a rat in our numbers," Alessandro spits out, swirling his wine, an elated dangerous glint in his eyes. "I cant wait to see their face." A wolfish grin appears on his face as he places the wine glass on the table.
His father turns to look at him, warning written all over his expression. "Aless," his voice dropping to a lower decibel, "keep whatever sick shit youre planning on doing inside your head and dont allow it to actually happen."
