Mobsters, Inc.

Two.

Seven weeks ago

A sharp slap to his arm effectively woke him up. He quickly straightened from his slumped position on his chair, his eyes still heavy with sleep.

“Franco, you better stay awake,” his mother hissed beside him. On his other side, Crystal Lopez remained silent, but he could tell from the way she kept licking and biting her lips that she was trying very hard not to laugh. His father, who was seated beside his mother, cleared his throat.

Was it his fault that this opera was extremely boring? And what twenty-five year old son of an underground lord would actually enjoy this shit? And on a Friday night!

He loved his mom dearly, though, so he tugged on his tie and straightened out his suit, and pretended to be entranced by the girl singing on stage. Within seconds, he felt his eyelids drop, and he groaned inaudibly, slapping his cheek gently with one hand. Suddenly, a hand snuck its way and hold on to the crook of his arm, and he had to smile. He covered Crystal’s hand with his own, and that was enough to keep him mostly awake as sopranos, altos, tenors and whoever else sang their songs on stage.

Thank heavens the opera ended soon.

Franco and Crystal walked out of the theatre, with his parents walking ahead of them. A couple of suited men and women surrounded the two couples. Franco yawned, and Crystal shot him a look.

“I don’t think I’d ever get used to all these bodyguards,” she whispered in his ear. He chuckled in response. She had been saying that since they were fifteen. Yes, they grew up together, ended up together, and had been together for five years.

“You only need me around you to keep you safe, babe,” Franco whispered back. Crystal wrinkled her nose in disgust. She absolutely hated it when Franco called her babe. She could be called tweetums, sweetie, heck he could even call her gummy bear. Anything but babe.

Crystal turned her head and faced Franco with a frown etched on her delicate features, only to be meet by a quick kiss on her lips. Immediately, a goofy grin spread on her face. Damn Franco and his kisses. They almost always let him get away with anything.

She knew everything about Franco and his family. She knew that his family was loaded and was one of the wealthiest families in all of the United States. She knew that Franco’s father could be dangerous if he wanted to—even Franco himself could be dangerous. But she also knew that Franco was a kind soul. He would never purposely hurt anyone. And yes, Crystal loved him very, very much.

“Franco, dear,” Evelyn, his mother, called, her voice rich and regal. “Stop acting like a horny teenager, please.”

Franco rolled his eyes. His mother didn’t even have to turn around. She was freakishly psychic like that. Crystal laughed and began to tug him along, forcing him to walk faster.

“Hurry up, slowpoke,” she said. Her eyes sparkled as she shot him a seductive, close-lipped smile. “The faster you walk, the faster we get to go home.” She then wiggled her eyebrows as she pulled her hand from his grasp.

“Then you can act like a horny teenager all you want.”

Franco watched as his girlfriend walked away, her hips swaying deliciously in that tight, black dress she was wearing. His breathing hitched, and he felt a sudden jump inside his pants. A slow smirk appeared on his face.

He walked so fast, he would’ve put power walkers to shame.

Six weeks ago

“You ready?” Franco called out. He was standing in front of a mirror, trying to fix the mess that was his hair. He frowned at the canister of mousse on the drawer. That thing did not help at all.