Bleeding Desire

This house choked me, maybe it was because I could still hear her sweet laugh and her precious voice as they ran through the many gardens that this house sported or, maybe it was because that monster was alive and living here, yet she wasn't.

We were all silent when I heard light footsteps and a laugh so delicate it could have belonged to an angel. However, I knew who it belonged to, and she was no angel. I hated her being able to laugh so freely it infuriated me, made me see red.

The round table separated the 4 of us, it had been placed on the balcony of Nelson's home office. The view of Madrid was rather amazing, yet it couldn't compare to my views of Sicily. Although the fresh summer breeze relaxed me a bit, I was still in the mood to kill.

What was the meaning of his invitation? More intriguingly, why invite Papa? He retired from the business ages ago, maybe it wasn't for business. All I know is, I have no time for it.

I stare at the man who sat before me, so the rumors really are true, Capo Nelson really is getting old. His eyes were aged, yet they still held their cold and emotionless stare. His head that once held his brunette locks was now quickly balding with his remaining hair a deep grey. His skin was now wrinkled. However, he sat tall.

He was staring right back at me, but when he realized I had noticed he quickly looked away. Damn right, he knows better than to look at me like that. Normally, I wouldn't hesitate to pierce his skull but in this case, it would cause an unnecessary war. Which wouldn't be ideal right now, I didn't need to stake our treaty.

He was testing me, stupid old bastard. I was tempted to bark something at him, to make him explain his plans, however, I manage to stay calm. "Respect the timing, my son." My father's words blare through my ears.

There are many differences between me and my father, making us nothing alike; one of them being I'm worse, much worse than he ever will be, my reign will be far more successful as I become more powerful than the rest.

Everyone knows I'm not a very patient man. But he doesn't deserve the pleasure of me twitching or squirming. I sit tall staring back, the tension between us rising.

His time is nearly over, the crown on his head would soon be passed onto his oldest son, Martinez. I can see it, Why couldn't they just announce it already?

Looking around, I see their men dressed in suits, guns resting in their holsters and earpieces snaked around their ears.

I knew I should have come with more men, instead, my father insisted on only bringing Enzo, Marco, Matteo, Roman, Diago, and Stanley with us. He had assured me no more were necessary. Stupid old man, I know he knows why we are here, he must know at least something.

Glancing around again, I notice Enzo, Stanley, Roman, Diago, and Marco guarding the arena. There are far more Russians on the other side, even more below us. To put it simply, we are trapped. Matteo stood tall behind us, while my hand traced the holster beneath my tailored suit.

Yes, I came somewhat prepared.

One wrong move from the opposite and they wouldn't know what hit them. But he wouldn't touch me, he wouldn't dare.

The history of our families runs deeper than overlooking the blue. Crueler than the dark clouds towering over the sky. One I don't wanna talk about.

I'm on their ground, in their territory. Not to mention, I'm outnumbered. If they were in Italy, my area, they would all be following me.

My rules, My reign.

Nobody challenges me.

Nobody speaks back.

They all fear me, as they should.

They all pathetically kiss the floor I walk on.

Over there, I am God, I am Satan, I am the leader of all leaders.

I don't own just my Mafia, I own them all; Capo Di Capi.

Fuck yes, I am worshipped more than a god.

Back in Italy, I am the law.

The.Fucking.King!

But here, I am a guest.

Like old times.

"Alfonso." The old bastard greets with a curt nod.

About.Fucking.Time!

"Nelson." I greet back, my voice laced in dominance, while I return the nod.

The old man glares at his son, who is glaring in absolute menace at me. I quickly return the favor, I don't avert my eyes, and nor does he.

"I don't agree to this agreement!" He whisper shouts to his father.

"It isn't your decision! You aren't don, I am!" The old man shouts in dominance, silently threatening his son.

Martinez sighs before standing down.

The old man leans back in his seat. "I have a proposition for you." He waits for my approval to continue.

"Go on," I say arching my eyebrow slightly.

"We both know enemies are rising, getting stronger by the day." He begins.

What he is saying is true. These bastards are on a mission to destroy us, to destroy me, To destroy my empire, my legacy, my birthright.

"I want to be more than allies." He announces.

"Are we not?" I spit, my voice coiled in hatred.

My father clears his throat as if something had gotten stuck in it. It reminded me of his presence. Nelson gives my father the slightest nod, ignoring my outbreak. What the fuck is going on right now?

"I want the Nelson's and the Alfonso's to be United. Rumour has it that a newer, stronger, larger enemy is rising. However, no one knows who. But that bastard is on the brink of making us, enemies." He spat angrily.

"Are we not already enemies?" Benjamin asks referring to my mafia and his fathers.

"We are not pointing guns at each other Benjamin!" Nelson sighs.

"It can be arranged," I smirk at Benjamin.

"I'm on board," Benjamin replies.

"Stop it both of you!" Nelson exhales holding the bridge of his nose in outrage.

"Show some respect!" Matteo growls.

"Watch it! We don't wanna start aiming guns do we now?" My father shouts at Matteo.

I need to get out of here as soon as possible, the Russian breeze is beginning to fuck with my brain. All I want is to pull the trigger and spill blood.

"So how do you suppose we get stronger? Are you gonna hand me the throne?" I asked tilting my head to the side while I study him. I always have the upper hand in any deal, whether it's alliances or drugs or prostitution or weapons. No matter what, I always win. Considering the circumstances, I don't know what he'll offer.

He has nothing to offer unless it's sharing in his long list of business.

The old man shook his head closing his eyes and for the first time, I notice something troubling him. Nothing dared to trouble the ruthless Russian Mob boss. He was the murderer walking into your life and ruining it. My stomach pummels at the worst imagination.

Once he finally opens his eyes, he stares directly into mine. "I am not giving you the throne, I am giving you something more precious than my mafia." He spoke his voice laced in regret and sorrow.

To say I'm confused would be an understatement; because my brain doesn't understand what could be more precious than his Mafia and its power. I can get shares from anyone.

"I am giving you a piece of myself." He sighs.

"Stop talking riddles, Nelson!" I growl.

It happens so fast, I almost miss it. Benjamin grabs a gun from under his jacket and points it at my head. However, Matteo is faster and he points his gun at Capo. Roman and Diago have theirs on Benjamin. Papa curses under his breath as I sit back and relax in my chair.

I know I'm outnumbered, but I also know they wouldn't dare shoot.

"Drop your gun Benjamin!" Capo demands.

"He disrespected you!" Benjamin shouts keeping his gun pointed at me.

"Roman! Diago! Drop your fucking weapons!" Father demands, they almost do but stop themselves remembering that they only take orders from me, and they no longer take orders from him.

"Drop the fucking gun now Benjamin," Capo demands, Matteo hesitates but finally lowers it.

I silently signal my men to put them down to as Capo signals his to do the same.

"Tsk, Tsk, Didn't know Russians treated their guests like this," I smirk.

"Don't disrespect me, boy!" Capo warns.

I chuckle in response.

"You haven't stopped testing my patience since I got here, So tell me what is it you want to do." I glare at him.

He takes a deep breath before announcing," I want you and Jennifer to get married."

The damage was done the moment our eyes collided. The beautiful dame's rosebud lips parted with the thundercrack that passed between us as my mind came undone.

How ironic I'd spent the day coming up with ways to get out of the whole fucking party.

I could have predicted that Pa would start singing. Old Blue Eyes was his favorite crooner, after all. So, when Lexington, Alexander, Giuseppe, and Albert joined in I knew I was off the hook. It was a rare sight indeed to have the leaders of our syndicate, la Societá, on the same coast, let alone crooning live in a restaurant.

Ma wouldn't stay angry at me for too long, not when her husband was beaming at her like she hung the moon.

Mission accomplished. I got Pa to stop jawing with that swarthy, spray-tanned cocksucker, Lexington Salvatore.

More importantly, however, I spoke to her. Her dulcet voice was just as soft and inviting as her unmatched splendor.

Sure, she was sassing me, defying my request without realizing exactly who she was dealing with or what I was capable of.

Yet, that only piqued my curiosity. I imagined interrupting her with a voracious kiss that left her beautiful mouth swollen like a bee sting and panting for more.

She had spirit, the kind that most of the men in my world liked to break. I couldn't allow that to happen.

Unfortunately, her pinup body in that plunging strapless number, covering everything but her shoulders and the deep valley between her luscious breasts, had my thoughts in a vice. It also had me straining against the zipper of my pants in a way that required a swift adjustment.

Shit, most of the men in the restaurant had a hard-on for her, married or not.

Even Pa commented that the pianist reminded him of a young, Monica Vitti. It wasn't like my father to notice any woman in a room outside of my mother. She was the only woman in his life that mattered, and for precisely thirty years and five days, she was the only woman that mattered in my life too.

Until her.

Fuck. I was fucked. I didn't even know her name and I was picturing her naked and splayed in my bed, writhing with pleasure.

I wanted to possess her soul the same way the music engulfed her body. Every flourish of her dainty fingers jiggled her glorious chest. She caught me blatantly ogling like a horndog a few times. I enjoyed the way it renewed the blush on her dewy cheeks.

Like a teenager, my palms grew sweaty as I fought a turgidly inopportune erection while the song grew to a close. I took a few clipped steps to get closer to the dusky goddess charming the entire room but halted when our gazes collided.

A breath stalled in my throat while I admired the way her lengthy fringe dusted a pair of auric doe eyes, so wide and wonderous, she could have been an earthbound angel.

"How about, The Way You Look Tonight?" My mother's pinched voice killed my amorous thoughts on the spot. "Do you know that one, Sylvia?"

Sylvia. Never before had a name been so flawlessly embodied.

"Mrs. Davinci," the tawny-eyed beauty answered. "After that, however, I'm scheduled to take a brief break, if that's alright?"

My mother's faultless posture stiffened as her lips thinned to evaluate her hired help.

"Of course, dear," Ma's voice was tight, which wasn't a good sign. "Just be back by nine twenty-five. The birthday cake is served at nine-thirty."

Thwarted, I turned to greet my mother as Sylvia started the jazzy ballad, which also happened to be my parent's song. They'd danced to that tune ever since I could remember. Supposedly, Anthony Bennett sang it live at their wedding.

Ma was already looking for her husband as other couples drifted toward the makeshift dancefloor.

"You look beautiful," I stated the obvious, "Thanks for tonight, Ma."

"Oh, please," my mother waved an elegant hand at my platitude. "According to Eva, Christian practically had to bribe you to come to your birthday party."

"I don't like doing business on my birthday," I gruffly offered the worst excuse in my arsenal.

This wasn't a birthday party. Ma knew that as well as I did. I was also going to chew out my older brother, along with his bigmouth wife, later.

"My boy! Here's to another very good year!" Pa's deep voice rumbled to announce his arrival. Even though we were roughly the same size, I always felt like my old man towered over me. A pillar of strength, so to speak. "If you don't mind, I'd like to steal my wife for a dance."

He held out a meaty arm for my mother to take but momentarily fixed his lupine eyes on me.

"And ask Maria Salvatore to dance, will you?" Pa's adoring gaze softened as his wife swished to his side. "Her father won't get off my back about the adorable grandkids you two would give us. Your mother won't either, for that matter."

"Pa," I growled, dangerously low for such a lighthearted moment, "Don't start."

"It's only a dance!" Ma hissed, twisting around Pa's cropped salt and pepper head to give me a stern look. It was the look that let me and my brother know that she was 'this close' to smacking some sense into us. "Lexington flew her down from San Francisco special for your birthday! So, you might as well start spending time with the woman you're going to marry!"

I set my jaw to tame the beast stirring within.

My mother's little tantrum was loud enough to overpower the ambient music and I was certain Sylvia had heard some of it. I was also pretty certain Lexington, Maria's father, heard it too. He was spinning his third trophy wife dangerously close to our orbit with his clumsy moves.

"Last time I checked, Mother," I replied, straightening my shoulders and cracking my neck in the way that always made her cringe. "Negotiations had stalled due to Lexington's little problem with the Feds."

"Well, what better occasion than your birthday to start those negotiations up again?" Ma noted over her slender shoulder as my father eased her into a slow foxtrot. "And, according to Maria, that little problem is taken care of."

To hide my grimace, I made the mistake of looking back at the enigmatic creature behind the piano. She was laser-focused on the keys, willfully ignoring me. My chest tightened as I fought my own intentions.

Maria Salvatore was as unctuous as her father but much prettier to look at. With a petite figure, bottle-blonde hair, massive fake tits, and icy blue eyes that saw much more than she said, Maria was every bit the princessa she enjoyed playing.

She was also the daughter of one of the five bosses running La Societá. Ours would be a match made in Mafia Heaven.

I know that's why my mother arranged this insufferable party, and everyone in the goddamn room knew it too. There was nothing more important than the family business, and business was always booming.

"It's not every day a man keeps me waiting," a cloying voice purred as a set of ruby-red manicured fingers stroked the length of my bicep, ending in a provocative squeeze right above the band of my Tag Heuer watch.

I glanced down at Maria's calculating azure eyes, noting the glow she got from being the center of attention.

"I'm not the sort of man to tolerate whining," I sniffed. A flash of heat crossed her pretty Botoxed face before she schooled her expression into the carefully guarded mask that we're trained to wear. "Let's dance, Jordan."

She hooked her thin arm through mine, proud to join the ranks of the swaying couples around us.

And why shouldn't she be?

If we married, she would live out a life of unfathomable privilege. She'd fulfill her duty of popping out a few heirs, while I took the occasional mistress and battled our enemies to keep our family in the kind of luxury people only dream about.

It was an age-old formula in our world. One that served soulless men like us well. One that I'd all but resigned myself to.

Then I saw the earthbound angel, and there was no going back.

I could feel it in the eerie air, the house was a little too quiet. It's like each and every nook knows a secret and is trying to conceal it from me. My heart accelerates at its own pace, my nerves jittering all over the place. My palms now itching with anticipation.

Surely, this has happened before. I've been confined to my bedroom more than once. Nevertheless, today is different, I wasn't allowed to attend dad's meetings before, yet today he requested for someone to pick me up from my room. I should be happy, but everything screams the opposite.

I slam my book shut, unable to concentrate on the words. I might have to re-read a few pages now. I get up from the bed and begin pacing back and forth looking for some sort of idea or memory of why he would want me present.

Why would dad want me to interfere with his business? My mind wanders to my past, and I halt before crossing the ironclad door. The one thing I locked myself.

No.

Today is going to be different. Inhaling sharply, I assure myself. However, my moment of euphoria is cut short, when a loud knock on the door sounds throughout the bedroom.

"Miss?" Miles's voice full of concern vibrates through the door. Releasing a shaky breath, I open the door coming face to face with the human hulk crowding the doorway.

"Yes, Miles?" I smile gently at him.

"Your father is asking for you miss." Miles sighs robotically.

"Okay, just get me a minute to put my slippers on." I smile before shutting my door and heading into my walk-In closet. I step inside the closet filled with arrays of designer clothes, jewelry, and shoes. The lavish luxury. All selected by my very own mother. All of which, I don't need. All of which, I don't deserve.

A pang of guilt rushes over me at just the thought of her. And even him.

Their laughs fill me. Two pairs of innocent eyes stare at me. My eyes brim with ushed tears, inching at the rims, swiveling there, ready to spill at any moment. The past crawls onto my skin leaving ghastly marks on my soul, its branches squeezing the beating organ in my chest painfully, the roots digging deeper into the pits of my stomach twisting my gut. I can feel the heat of the collapse heating me. My breath comes into short pants.

No, No, No.

This isn't happening.

I am not going back there.

I won't.

Remembering what I learned in the sessions, I inhale sharply. Then, slowly exhale. I count the numbers backward, as the therapist told me to do numerous times.

10. Inhale,

9. Exhale,

8. Inhale,

7. Exhale,

6. Inhale,

5. Exhale,

4.Inhale,

3. Exhale,

2. Inhale,

1. Exhale.

Eventually, my breathing slows. I breathe in swallowing my demos. Pushing back the tears, I slip into the white flip-flops and turn to leave. However, my body finds something before my eyes do. There it sits, amidst my designer clothes.

A piece of wood.

So frail and so old.

Holding memories of the good old days.

Yet, Haunting me in its mysterious ways.

There it sits on top of the wood.

A broken doll.

A broken promise.

The tale of the two fiery nights.

Gore is the princess and the armored knight.

It's been ages since I played it.

Absolutely ages.

Yet, somehow I know each note. I recognize the pressure on the strings.

It's like it never left me, I don't think it ever will. On the contrary, I abandoned it.

The same feeling returns, but hastily, I push it back. I skim my fingers over the burned piece of wood. Its edges are rough, not as smooth as I remember it. Gradually, I pull on the string. The sound resonates in the closet. Not alive. It's a dead sound. I'll have to polish it, play it little by little every day.

I glance at the figurine sitting next to the instrument, burned and dead; just like the instrument, my hand lifts to touch it.

"Miss Jennifer," Miles's voice fills the room, breaking my review. Dropping my hand, I head for the door. "I'm sorry, I couldn't find my slippers." I lie muttering.

he swiftly nods his head following close behind me, maintaining a professional distance, yet staying close enough to take a bullet for me if needs to be. It's how each and every guard is trained for this kind of work.

We take the corridor that leads us to the balcony occupying the best views. My favorite place besides my bedroom is definitely the mini-library we have here.

The balcony is huge, circular, and overlooking the sea. It's supported by historical and ancient pillars, which are decorated with patterns of all shapes and sizes.

Guards are standing in the corridor like normal as we pass, alert, stoic, emotionless, and well-trained.

As we are passing, each and every one of them bows down. I hate it, but that depicts respect towards us. The loyalty they have for us.

The small action differentiated me and them. This Fineline separates me from others. They are human too, yet I know better. I am a part of this life, they are a part of this life, the one we can't escape.

"Do you know why they want me to be present?" I ask trying to lighten the frigid mood.

"No miss, I don't Sorry." His reply was too sudden to be true. Again, he maintains small, professional talk. We are nearly at the end of the corridor where my father, Benjamin are sitting opposite two men with their backs to me.

One younger, one older. It's clear by the different hair colors. Behind them, 5 hulks stand. Not one of them do I recognize as our guards though.

Suddenly there's a shift in the air, I sense it. Guards are high on alert. I can feel it in their pose.

"Who are they?" I whisper yell to Miles.

"I don't have a clue, ma'am." He answers just as suddenly as before, making it obvious he knows at least something.

"You know what, you won't die if you slip a little secret." I tease him with the slightest hint of mischief in my tone.

"No I won't, but that doesn't mean I want to be beaten to a bloody pulp." He replies, which bubbles an eruption of laughter in me, despite the current situation.

"You're here Jennifer," Dad says in his usual tone, whilst also throwing a glare in Miless direction. I roll my eyes at his protectiveness before turning towards Martinez who paces towards me before eloping me in a side hug, blocking my view. I lightly elbow him in the stomach. At this, his attention turns down to me, his lips tug into a small smile. Before Miles leaves he bows before speeding away.

My back had been facing our guests and ever since we entered the room, it had been burning, like someone had been watching me. Yet this feeling is eerie familiar, however, I can't pluck up the courage to turn around.

The scrapping of chairs catches my attention, so I slowly turn to face the men, who are now making their way towards us.

My breath hitches. No, I think I forgot the simplest action of breathing. This cannot be happening.

Last time that I saw him he was..

He descends the two small steps with ease. An aura of authority swirls around him, the air now suddenly feels chilly.

A shiver sweeps down my spine,

Not because of the cold breeze,

But because of his hard gaze;

Because of the way he carries himself,

Confident and dominating.

He walks his stride with purpose.

With a goal.

With power.

He's the type of man they tell you to stay away from.

He's troubled,

The godfather of trouble.

His eyes bore into mine, so familiar. Blue just like hers were.

A little shade-darker. His eyes are midnight blue, just like the ocean behind us, so mesmerizing and beautiful. My absolute favorite color, I could get lost in them; just like I got lost in hers.

You don't see a man like him often; with his height, well build, striking facial features, he could pass as a male supermodel. He belonged on the front of a romance novel. One where you spend more time drooling over the front cover than you do actually reading it.

My eyes drink at the sight of him, his face is neutral, devoid of any emotions. His beautiful raven hair is styled back gorgeously with two rouge strands on his forehead. Dark thick eyebrows stretched above his blue orbs, shining like moonstones. His strong cheekbones and prominent and sharp jawline are well defined. His full lush lips are thinned and his jaw is set, as if he's clenching his teeth together. Was he angry? He couldn't be, I couldn't see any anger radiating off him.

I scowl at my predicament as he comes to stand beside his father Johnny, at this point, my father was even stood before me. I didn't even notice him.

'Because you were too busy gaping at him!' The angel in my mind scolds.

'Ooooh! But ain't he gorgeous?' The devil in my mind replies.

'Shut up, there is trouble oozing off him!' The angel cries.

'That's the fun of being dangerous.' Devil shoots back.

'Shut up both of you!' I scold them in a hushed voice and both of the creatures disappear. Yes, I was aware I looked crazy telling imaginary things to shut up, but I probably was even crazier for imagining them in the first place.

I realize how tall he really is, he was taller than Martinez and looked to be around 6'3". So much taller than my 5'8" frame. Then it suddenly hits me, why was he even here? I had a vague thought that made me feel sick to the stomach. Yet I knew it could be the reason I was here.

It was really the only option possible that he was here after all these years, it had been 6 years and I knew he hadn't forgiven me, so if I am right, my life isn't going to be easy.

I should have known because when our eyes meet, his eyes uncover a small smirk tugging on his lips as he notices my fear.

It isn't a delicious smirk you fall for, it's a dangerous one.

The one that holds the promise of darkness,

The promise of death.

He knows,

He knows I was checking him out.

He was checking me out too.

I felt it, the way his eyes ranked overall my features, halting here and there.

I felt it, the bastard didn't even try and hide it,

It was on display.

The lust and the desire in his eyes were on display.

Just like then,

Even back then he was muscular.

But now, this, this was different. He had grown. No, he had built himself into a powerful man. I nibbled on my bottom lip nervously.

"Hello, Ana," Johnny says, his endearment to me hasn't changed even after all these years, even after what happened. Taking my hand, he places a gentle and friendly kiss on it.

"Uncle Johnny," I mutter, sounding almost inaudible.

"Vince, I'm sure you remember Jennifer," Johnny says to his son.

"How could I ever forget her," He says, his expression now stoic as if the smirk was never there.

Bile vises in my throat, I push it down. Alexander extends his large hand for me to shake. Suddenly I have the urge to run, the knot in my stomach only tightens. Will it look bad if I don't shake his hand? Was dad making a deal with them? Will he lose the deal?

The thought of dad losing the deal because my gut twisting was too much.

I reach to shake his hand and there is a zap of electricity that runs down my spine at just the mere touch. I want to retreat my hand back but he already has a firm grip on it. I gasp as he squeezes my hand tightly, purposely trying to hurt me, I gasp knowing it will probably bruise. However, he caught a glimpse of the pain on my face causing a notorious smirk to plaster his gorgeous face. Shit. He caught my pain. After all, nothing goes past the King of Sicily.

My mind reminds, gorgeous? Where did that come from? I frown at my ludicrous thoughts and he must have seen me frown, because he squeezed my hand tighter to bring me back to the harsh reality. I think he is about to release my hand, but he keeps a hold if it when my father begins to speak.

"Ana, meet your fiance."

As soon as those words spill out, his smirk grows more prominent, and not that I noticed at the time, so did his bulge. The blue cuts through me, hate swirling inside.

My breathing stops.

Alexander Alfonso.

The ruthless mafia boss of all of Italy.

My soon to be husband.

My fiance.

At that moment, the world span.

My enemy and worst nightmare was going to be my husband till I drop dead, and for what?