Manners with the Devil

33

G I A V A N N A      A M A T O

"What the fuck do you want?" I groan, as my eyes squint from a bright light that just turned on.

Lucas just woke me up, at God knows what fucking time and he burnt my eyeballs in the making.

"Giavanna, I need some answers from you." He speaks.

I lift my head from my pillow in confusion, to see his large body hovering over my little one.

"What time is it?" I moan, getting up in a seated position, pushing my back to the headboard.

He looks at the watch layed upon his wrist, then replies to say it is fucking 3am.

Does this man actually have a fucking life?

"Hell no, wake me up at a reasonable fucking hour." I hiss, whacking the pillow over my face and dropping back down.

"I've just been talking to Sebastien, I only need a few answers." He speaks.

I ignore his request. And hug my pillow tightly, attempting to fall asleep.

However, that's mighty impossible when a Godlike man is hovering over me in my bed. I mean, he could see me dribble, snore, all sorts.
And we aren't near close enough to witness that.

"Okay, you have like ten minutes." I groan dramatically. 

He puts out his hand for me to grab, and I do so. He heaved my body up back in a seating position, and then he seated himself down on the end of my bed.

Shivers raced down my spine.

He glares at me weirdly.

"What?"

"Nothing." He slightly chuckles.

"Go on then." I gesture my hand for him to speak.

"Right." He mutters, taking his eyes off me, and wondering them around the room.

I still stare deeply into his eyes, trying to fish out what he is going to say, because my patience can't take any more of this. 

What would he need to know about Sebastien?

His eyes still travel around the room.

I clear my throat, adding annoyance to it.

"Your mother." He suddenly says.

I frown at the hearing of that phrase. I just know this will be quite bad. Already.

My mother is known as the most powerful women in the Mafia business, also named as 'The Demon.' However, I only knew about this a few months ago, when I met Sebastien, since she never brought anything about it up in my childhood, as expected. I was only little.

"What about her." I mutter, my gaze turning to my lap.

"I just have a few questions about her," He clears his throat, "Do you know anyone in your childhood with the names Adrian or Alyssa, just anyone that your mother introduced you too."

"Adrian? As in Head of Russia Mafia?" I ask, leaning forward, my eyes searching his face, needy for an answer.

"Just answer the question." He replies bluntly. 

It takes a moment for my mind to trace back to my childhood. To think of any child my mother would introduce me to on the daily.

An image in my mind takes me back to two little brunette girls - twins - who were German (but I have forgotten their names), a young boy who I had a minor crush on named 'Zack' from Austria, and another two girls both blonde hair from Russia, who I would normally meet once a month.

"I remember four girls. Tell me what Alyssa would look like."

He takes time to think, "Curly blonde hair. Pale. Blue eyes. Russian."

"Yes. Alyssa. There were two of them. Alyssa was a couple years older than me. Russian. Came over to my house once a month. Her parents adored me. Why? Is she related to Adrian, because I can kind of see the resemblance." I blather on, probably too much.

"Did she suddenly disappear?" His eyes widened inside mine, making me shiver again.

"Yes." I swallow.

I know where this conversation is heading. And I'm not fucking enjoying it.

"What did your mother say, once she stopped coming over?" He asks.

"She said that she did something bad. Something really bad." I reply, "And I never questioned it again. It was like she was threatening me not to talk about it."

"Anything else?"

I shake my head, my eyes still upon his face.

"Who killed her?"

"Your Mother." He replies.

"Why?"

"She was Adrian's sister. At that time of her death, Roman was probably the head of the Mafia, so your mother killed his daughter." He responds.

My mind sinks in all this information.

"Why did my mother kill her?" 

"That's what I was trying to figure out from you."

I nod, "My mother killed an important figure. Great. How old was she?"

"According to our network, she was only 16, you were 13."

My heart shatters. Not for her idiotic family. But for her. She died at such a young age. Because of my mother.
I take a moment to think of her. My face probably is tearing up, but all I could think about were the horrors a 16 year old girl had before death.
The horrors my mother put her through. My mother is not a nice lady, so it must have been bad.

Scenerios enter my head of how she was killed.

I feel a palm glide across my lower back, pulling me into something.
I snap from my thoughts to notice I've been pulled in a hug with Lucas.

"I love you, you're not responsible for it." He murmurs in the hug.

"Thank you." I whisper, my voice slightly shakes.

Tingling senses flood my veins.

I know I shouldn't enjoy this contact with Lucas.
But I am.

His large body holds a protective barrier for me. He feels safe.

Our touching stopped and he leant backwards, staring deeply inside my eyes. I thought my brain was going to explode by how tense it was.

But, I was calm.

Not once I felt the need to do a line of drugs, or a bottle of alcohol.

He was my drugs.

"Are you taking your medications?" He says, as if he is reading my mind.

"Yeah, they're helping." I respond.

But, what is also helping, is Lucas.

"Aright, I'll have to go now." He says.

"Please, stay a little longer." I ask.

He looks at me, his one eyebrow lifting up, his mouth in a straight line.

"Please." I whisper.

"I'll meet you when you wake up, sorry amore." He replies.

My whole body suddenly drains from feeling safe as he exits my room.

Shit. I shouldn't be feeling this way.