I stand at the wall as the man and Marco start talking business. The man's name is Niklas, and they speak in a mix of English, Russian, and Italian. I don't know Russian or Italian, but I can barely keep up with the English parts, either, as I have zero context.
"He was like a brother to me," Niklas says, almost mournfully. "But he chose his side. I chose to put a bullet in his head. "
"I'm sorry for your loss," Marco says, almost meaning it. "But I want you to know that it is no excuse for what you've done. You've disrupted my business."
Niklas raises an eyebrow. "What you call disruption is mild inconveniences caused by noisy, bottom-rung law enforcement."
"Nonetheless, bottom-rung curiosity ends up in reports to higher-ups. I don't want to take any chances."
They go back to talking in other languages, and my eyes flick back and forth between them. Marco is calm and collected, his arms resting easy on the plush chair that's so grand, it looks like a throne.
Suddenly, as I'm staring at his God-like profile, he pulls out a gun and shoots Niklas between the eyes.
I scream as a loud bang reverberates around the room, and blood splatters against the wall. Niklas's head snaps back, and he slumps out of the chair, landing on the floor with a thud. A dark red puddle grows underneath him.
"Someone will come dispose of the body," Marco says indifferently, "but I need you to clean the blood."
He walks over to a closet and pulls out cleaning supplies, and then he stands at the door expectantly. I drag my feet over to the supplies and slowly crouch, my ears and my heart throbbing.
So, this is initiation: witnessing first-hand what the mafia does to people.
My only experience with cleaning up blood is getting period stains out of my underwear and the occasional unfortunate bedsheet. This carnage is a new, horrific challenge. I venture a guess and start soaking up the puddle with a towel, getting it everywhere as I do. It's staining my nails, my knees, and getting on my face as I try to quickly wipe the tears away. It takes everything in me to not just break down and start sobbing.
Marco leans down in front of me and takes my chin in his hand. He tilts my head up so I can look him directly in the eyes.
"You look so beautiful covered in blood," he whispers.
Then he smiles and leaves me here to clean up his mess.
YOU ARE READING
Mafia Darling
RomanceElla's mother sells her to the Italian-American mafia, and now she's a maid for a feared and ruthless family. Made to clean up messes and endure insults, she catches the eye of the boss, Marco. An inexperienced woman, she has no idea what she's in f...
