The Mafia Boyfriend

The Household

- Okay.

When those words escaped my mouth, I mentally slapped myself in the head. I was saying yes to a murderer? 

Then again, what choice did I have? I don't think that saying no would allow me to go home in one piece. My life had been resumed to either sudden death or playing doctors with a criminal. And Alex didn't need to emphasize that first part. The murder dungeon had been pretty clear.

- Great choice, A. Now, if you'd like, I'll show you around the Cinco Household. This is where you'll stay. And you will see you did the right choice.

Alex extended a hand to me to help me up from the chair.  My legs felt like jello. 

I would have to stay here? 

Memories of my not so fancy apartment came into view. It's not like I wanted to live there forever, right? But it had been my own for the last years of my existence and the memories it held were now making me feel sad.

I reluctantly accepted his hand, feeling his smooth caramel skin under my fingertips. Why did everything about him have to be so perfect? 

Oh yeah, he was still a murderer.

Once I leave that basement, I feel a bit of relief. I could sense that those walls had probably seen more death than the ER and just the thought gave me goosebumps. This whole situation was nerve-racking. I have this need to adjust the comfortable t-shirt I was still wearing since of what I assume was yesterday. How long had I been out? Was it day time outside? The fabric was all wrinkled and it had this weird sticky dark stain in the front of it. What was that?

We go up a set of dark wooden stairs. Once we pass the door that gives access to the main floor, I choke on my own spit, marveled by what I see. 

What? This is the Household of the Infamous Cinco Gang? Why isn't this some shack in the middle of nowhere? Or a crack house in the ghetto area? Why am I seeing expensive furniture and a Scandinavian theme? 

A huge set of grey sofas are set in the middle of the enormous living room. The contrast of grey, white and soft brown is actually inviting. I see myself living here, which I wasn't expecting. Glass windows marry the walls from top to bottom. And the view outside in breath taking. Green fields of nothingness, the sun shining on them and making them sparkle. Had it maybe rained the night before?

I see three other men sitting there, who react to my presence with a slight bow of their heads. That appears to be a greeting thing between these gang members. I should write that down, since I accepted to basically be one of them. 

- Not your typical drug house, hum? - Alex observes me with attentive eyes, registering every facial expression I do. I feel a bit embarrassed for expecting them to live in the middle of filth and cheap drug labor.

- Yeah, not your typical gang member house. How--if you don't mind me asking, who owns this place?

- I do. - He gives me a glimpse of one of his famous smirks, showing his contentment for this mansion.

When I think I figured the man out, he changes my mind. Alex is a little box of surprises. 

He walks into the kitchen and I follow. My stomach rumbles at the thought of food. It has been many hours since I last ate, judging by the day light outside that illuminates this beautiful open concept house. I eye the fridge eagerly, thinking if I will get a chance to eat or if they will starve me here. God, I hope not, I love food too much.

Alex rotates on his tracks and looks at me with his fierce eyes again. 

- Wanna eat something, A.?