Light Grasso,
A middle Son.
An heir to the Grasso business and industry.
A head strategist and Counselor of Italian Mafia businesses.
A megalomaniac.
Lilith Berenguer,
A princess of the San Marino.
A fiery woman.
A walking death.
A mastermi...
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I agree, Mr. Grasso is an attractive man.
Charming, desirable and captivating if to portray in words.
Unlike other men I knew, he isn't bothered of the worth I have.
.
Most of men cannot bear the woman on top, they like to have all the power to themselves, Praises and kisses. I'm not talking about the sex position.
A mother should not be praised for making the house but the father. A wife should never earn more than her husband. A daughter should never learn more than the son. A woman should never be rule the world for it is called the man's world.
Blah, blah and fucking blah.
Male-ego was never just a word but the fact.
.
My grandmother used to say, a man who is proud of your worth is the man who'll give you a worth. And, I remember it to this day, never letting a single man who thought a flower would make me happy when I have build the garden for myself. I am not pleased by a man who pays the bill when I can buy the restaurant. I don't need efforts, I need a fucking grueling.
.
You want me. Earn me.
I don't have a pride but the value.
.
"Adjust your tie, Mr. Grasso, and your face." I glimpsed at Mr. Grasso when we were about to escape the car. "You look like you had a sex in the car." Red face, messy tie and heavy breathing.
"Pardon me." He nod, immediately adjusting his tie and tucking the silk shirt he is wearing. Adam's apple bobbing slowly, lips parted to breathe and those shiny glasses slipping down his perfectly straight nose.
"I don't want any conspiracy about having an affair with you." I pointed. "I have enough on my plate."
"If that's the case, you shall clear the blush on your face as well." Mr. Grasso said, reaching his veiny hand to my cheek and brushed his thumb for the blink of time. "The cameras will think we were having an intimate time."
He escaped the car in rush, walking to my side of the car immediately and opened the door. Straight posture. Elegant moves. Fucking nobility. Mr. Grasso have no idea what I'd do to him if he ever try to step inside the circle I have drew around me.
"Mr. Grasso." I told him not to cross the line-
"After you, Miss Berenguer." Mr. Grasso bowed, holding the door open for me. He is the head counselor of Mafias, doesn't it bother him to bow in front of me?
"You forgot your purse, my lady." Marco looked at my hands when I climbed down the car and I realized I don't have my purse-
"I have it." Mr. Grasso smiled with that pink lips of his and nod in agreement as if I allowed him to carry my purse. Well, I can't deny him if he's already holding it. I don't have enough time to argue.
