Dangerous Love

The longer you danced with the devil, the longer your stay in hell would be.

I had danced with the devil way too long for comfort and I've had to endure the hell that came with that dance.

Here's the thing, in the mafia, only one thing was held at extreme value-the code of silence. Omertà.

You could be as ambitious as you wanted, you could do whatever it took to achieve great heights and none would blink an eye as long as the code of silence sworn to your famiglia stayed unbroken.

So when I became a part of the Rodriguez famiglia, I made sure to become as greedy as I desired. I chased wealth, money, fame, power and I chased it with every drop of my blood, sweat and tears.

Great difficulties did I face but many times, I made sure to scale through those difficulties-I was always victorious.

And today, I had once again walked another milestone. Gained another victory.

La famiglia was headed by Dario Rodriguez, a man who held so much power, in politics, in the world of crime as well as in business-legal business.

He owned half the country.

From him, I learnt to be ambitious. To be greedy, to deal without mercy, to rid myself of any unneeded emotions, to disassociate myself from a word as useless as peace-to be a wicked entity.

I became like him. A difficult task but I excelled. I became so ambitious and greedy for power that when I sensed his need for a successor-someone to take his place following his retirement, I pined for his throne.

Disregarding the fact that the old man had three biological kids of his own, I pined for his throne as though my life depended on it.

Of course my life depended on the power that throne would provide me with. I needed that power.

As hotheaded as mio padre-Dario Rodriguez was, he was a man with a great sense of reasoning. Always so put together, reasonable and didn't act out on impulse no matter the situation. I mirrored him, became every thing he desired, possessed all the qualities he desperately needed to see in the person who'd succeed him.

So, when it came down to making his pick, he overlooked his natural heir, his son-my brother Gustavo and named me the new head of the Rodriguez famiglia.

Ginevra Rodriguez had achieved the power she desired but it came with a price.

A price I paid, a price that left me battling both physical and emotional scars. A price that made me question if it was all worth it.

I lost and I lost over and over and over again because Dario Rodriguez was not a man who handed anything to anyone without taking from them.

And now, I was at the verge of losing again.

I was a fool to think that the throne was handed to me because my abilities were recognized, but that was not the case.

Dario was playing a game, a game of blood and bones, a game of war and I was his soldier on the frontline of that war.

I was a pawn in his game. Which was exactly why three days after I was sworn in as the head of La famiglia, a meeting with the head of the Sanchez famiglia was scheduled to hold in about a few minutes.

The meeting was barely a friendly one, it was one scheduled for a difficult decision to be made. One that was either going to be my doom or one that was going to make me the most famous woman that had ever headed the Mafia.

The quietness and calmness of my spacious office was disrupted when the door was thrown open, a man just around my age strutting in gloriously.

A better part of his face was shielded with a black mask made out of soft wool. It was a thing of discomfort, being in an enclosed space with a stranger whose face was almost completely covered-but as soon as his fiery aura engulfed me, I quickly forgot about his face.

His eyes were as blue as the ocean, the immaculate irises calling out to me like a siren and like a fool, I answered his call. I lost myself to the beauty of the glorious man standing on the other side of my table.

But there was a look in his eyes, a look that could almost be interpreted as distaste. Brows raised, eyes narrowed and by the movement around his chin, I could've sworn his jaw was ticking in irritation. He stared like a predator catching up on his prey.

As much as the man's stare unnerved me, the act had prompted the appearance of a ghostly smile against my lips because deep down in my core, I knew it was him-the fire that would eventually burn me to ashes. I knew this man was going to be my doom and I was willing to embrace that doom with opened arms.

Silently, I raised a brow, indicating that his presence confused me seeing how he was a stranger who just barged into my space like he owned the place.

With an outstretched hand, his deep, rough voice reverberated. "I'm Ghost."

I took his hand, shaking him professionally but startling at how small my hand was compared to his. "Ghost?" I repeated and he hummed a response.

"A messenger for the Sanchez's."

I immediately withdrew my hand from him with a snare. "My meeting was scheduled with the head of your famiglia." Again, he hummed a response as he threw himself on the couch with a sigh.

What level of unprofessionalism was this? My brows raised as if to ask the question but my words suddenly couldn't make it out.

He chuckled, the kind that sounded as though he was mocking my inability to exert authority on him. "Don Luigi is unable to make it to this meeting today, but as far as I'm here, do consider me the Don. The outcome of this meeting is after all dependent on the decision I make here today."

I nodded in understanding.

There was a rumor that an agreement was made between the Sanchez's and the Rodriguez's, an agreement that any henchman belonging to either party who was unfortunate to be caught alive in any circumstance, be it war or breach of territory, was to be delivered alive to the famiglia he belonged to, and could only be punished by his own and that was why we sat there in that meeting.

A Sanchez henchman was caught distributing their product-at a cheaper rate-in the east of our territory.

That was one crime that couldn't ever be forgiven in the world of crime, hence, my father's refusal to release him to his people. A refusal that had stirred up a misunderstanding between both families.

With a clear of my throat, I began. "About the man, after going through a series of meetings with the people at the top, a decision was reached."

Ghost had leaned forward by the time I finished speaking, his brows raised impatiently as he tapped his fingers away on his thigh. "And?"

"We have a few conditions," my voice wavered. "A condition that might not sit well with you."

Impatience danced in his eyes more vigorously this time as though he sensed where my rambling was headed.

I gulped down the lump forming in my throat and continued speaking. "You give up the products he was caught with, including all the money he made; and we want to get 20% of your sales profit from the west of your territory for a month."

There it was, the darkness I had sensed around the man surfacing. Laughter rippled out of him at my request. Throat bobbing, hands balled into tight fists and the underside of his shoes tapping against the floor.

Minutes after minutes, seconds after seconds and all Ghost did was laugh. In mockery, in rage, in fascination, loathe perhaps. But all he did was laugh stupidly at my idiocy and I sat through the torture of the disturbing frequency eliciting his throat.

"Greedy ass bitch." He finally recollected himself and cursed, causing my eyes to widen.

"Don't be mouthy, Ghost." I gritted through clenched teeth. "A person of your status has no business sitting in a meeting with me and definitely has no business cursing at me."

Again, laughter bubbled out of him. This time his hate towards me too glaring not to be noticed. His laughter died down and something immediately shifted in the room, causing the temperature in the office to drop.

His voice hoarse when he asked. "My status? What do you know of my status?"

"You're just a messenger."

He hummed in agreement. "Yes, I am."

"And I am the head of my family."

"Yes, you are." He agreed. "And yet, you have no power. To all of those greedy men, you're just a pretty face occupying a vacant seat and that is all you'll ever be to the people in this so called family of yours." He rasped, rising to his feet.

My blood boiled with venomous rage because in the back of my head, I knew his words were not far from the truth.

I was nothing but a pretty face and a sound mind. A strategic and business oriented persona, that was all I was.

The man continued speaking. "In case no one had informed you, in the mafia, all a woman could ever be offered is a seat at the table and from where I stand, without power, that seat is just as useless as a mad man roaming the streets. A smart woman would make a move to chase power instead of a seat at the table but you wouldn't know, you're not so smart after all."

"Ghost!" I screamed, enraged.

"What?!" He retorted. "You must be a really delusional bitch to think I'd give up even a dime for a mere servant that could easily be replaced. He's better off in your custody, but I warn you, if you don't make a deal and I walk out that door all hell will break lose on you. I'll make sure you lose approximately everything you demanded from me here today, I'll tear you apart until you're crawling on your knees and begging me to stop." He growled and I firmly held unto the hem of my coat in fear.

"It's not your decision to make." I breathed, hoping to change the direction in which this meeting was headed.

He chuckled. "When I was sent here as a representative, I was handed the power to do as I pleased, so news flash, it is my decision to make and I'm seconds away from making that decision."

My eyes relaxed on his, a ghostly smile playing at my lips as I spoke in a monotone. "Go ahead and tear me down, I'd love to see you try."

"I wish I could say that it was nice meeting you miss. Rodriguez."

Those were his last words before he stormed out of my office.

Those were his last words that left me on the edge of insanity for hours after he had walked out my door.

His name was embedded in my head. His eyes taunted me as I waited for the war I had signed off on. His voice of mockery was all that rang in my head for hours.

And it only took hours before he began to keep all the promises he had made earlier. He threw me the first punch-a heavy punch that almost knocked me flat out.

How could Ghost, a man who had introduced himself as a mere messenger sent to stand as a representative for the head of Sanchez famiglia hold so much power that it only took a few hours before he had different enterprises of mine set ablaze?

Who was he?

What value was he to the Sanchez's that he had the authority to make such decisions that ended in war?

I was at a crossroads. Just three days into becoming the boss and I'd almost lost my life one too many times. This was what Dario wanted. He threw me into the lion's den and left me for the ruin.

A war that I least expected but was now fighting, a war I was inexperienced in but my opponent happened to be a master of and I was just left to survive through it all.

All alone.

And there we had it, a war between the two biggest names in the Italian underworld. A war the whole underworld longed to watch and now, they had the pleasure of watching us tear each other apart. They all watched us in amusement whilst waiting to declare a victor.

The founders of these names never had it as brutal as this but there we were, the young bloods, hungry for blood and willing to do anything to get it, going at each other's throat for the kill.

Worst thing for me, I had never taken a life before and I planned not to until I was ready to wipe Dario and his entire family out from the face of this earth.

I had never imagined the level of difficulty to be faced with whilst initiating peace after trouble had been stirred up.

In the underworld, trouble was easy, but peace and settlement were the most prominent stumbling blocks ever to be faced. That was the reason a lot of families fell out a lot of times and made sure to burn themselves to the ground.

There was no room for peace.

That was beginning to seem like my case with the Sanchez's.

A meeting that was held and concluded in less than an hour, a meeting that a few words were said, a meeting that held a lot of unforeseen promises, a meeting that was merely two individuals of the same age group stroking each other's ego-in a bad way.

That meeting had resulted into something far worse than the most talked about and feared Armageddon.

Days had turned into weeks, weeks into months, and yet, the Rodriguez's and Sanchez's were yet to find common ground. Both parties at a loss of money, products and lots of lives, and yet, we remained stubborn until it became a battle of Ego.

It was no longer a battle with a course. It was no longer a quest for more money or more power. It became the desperate need to prove a point.

I and Ghost were desperate to prove a point to one another so much that we were willing to burn the world to the ground.

Winning was my endgame. Ghost was after all a common messenger and I was the head of La famiglia.

The Rodriguez famiglia. A name not to be toyed with.

I couldn't lose.

But I fought that battle, spilled so much blood until I became blood sickened. Of course my inability to take a life by my own hands had set me back. My reputation was ruined and once again, it was proven that all I was was just a pretty face and a sharp mind.

I had many times fantasized about the many ways to take a man's life but always made certain to hold myself back. It wasn't the lack of courage nor was it fear-I had set my eyes on a goal, I had promised myself that the first blood I would spill would be that of a Rodriguez.

The monster in me wanted blood but it had its preference.

So, when the war appeared to have no end, I began seeking the face of Luigi Sanchez, the head of the Sanchez famiglia-all to no avail.

Just like Ghost had promised, I swallowed my pride and got down on my knees. I crawled and begged for his attention. I gave him what he so desired until he finally came out of the shadows and beckoned to my calls.

Ghost, the messenger was in my office and all I had to do was say the right things and all of this troubles would go away.

"You have a mask on yet again, why?" Too tensed by his presence, that was the first question I asked on seeing half of his face covered. Again.

He raised his brows, staring at me intensely, his eyes glistening with excitement and loathe. "You didn't leave tons of messages just so you could ask questions about the accessories I chose to adorn myself by, did you?" His voice hoarse as he made a move for the door, intending to storm out.

"Let's stop already." I immediately called after him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

With a scoff, he turned so that he was facing me. "Why?" His question vibrated against his throat and for a few minutes, I fell silent, not having an appropriate answer for his ridiculous question.

Wasn't he tired of the bloodshed?

Was he not blood sickened?

"Because I want to stop. I'm blood sickened and tired." I could tell his irritation by the movement of his eyes. And then he began to take short and yet, calculated steps towards me. I mirrored him by taking a step backward with each step he took forward. "You selfish, little bitch."

His fingers curled into a fist, his veins popping out and the look in his eyes that of a man struggling to stay in control.

For minutes, I stood silently before him whilst he cursed me out. He called me names that were extremely disgusting, distasteful and disrespectful, yet, I took it silently.

I couldn't understand his anger. Was it because of the reason behind my desire for peace or was the fact that I desired peace?

Ghost left me in utter confusion.

"It was you and I who sat in this room and made decisions that affected a lot of people. A decision that has taken a lot from my family and yours, and yet, you delude yourself with the idea of wanting to make peace just because you're tired? People have died! I have lost people of my own and all you did was hide in the shadows whilst others fought your war for you! So cowardly." He breathed. "If you want peace, go find it on the battle ground."

I froze at his words. He was angry, so angry he didn't want this to end until I fell and he didn't care to hide the fact from me.

My fear threatened to creep out, my heart pounded so hard against my throat and the inhale and exhale of my breath became a mess.

Ghost was crazy and he wanted to drive me out of my mind. He saw me for what I was. He saw me for the scared, little bitch I was and he wanted to use it against me.

Letting out a shaky exhale, I made sure to think carefully about the words I had forced out of my mouth.

"If we don't stop, we'll lose more lives, more money and even the source our money. Nobody wants to associate with trouble and you know this. Our families are able to excel above others in this business because we know how to stay away from trouble. We know how to keep our ego aside and treat business as business. This fight is changing that fact and we'd lose a lot more of don't get it together."

Ghost had uttered not a single word.

A silence so discomforting had stretched out for long minutes until he decided to turn his back on me. He once again made a move for the door. Something had snapped in me but I held it all in. I had to be the bigger person.

If I couldn't use my strength then my wit could suffice.

I took deep breaths and began speaking again.

"The FBI." The mention of those cocksuckers had him halting his movement. I continued. "They're investigating this chaos. They've shown interest in this war of ours and it's only a matter of time before they get hold of information, information that could ruin us all. Tell me, Ghost, your freedom or your Ego?"

That was it, my card all laid out on the table, fingers crossed that he took the bait.

Ghost stood there by the door, his gaze never shifting from mine and I could tell he was conflicted. To walk back in or to walk away? He was too conflicted to make a decision.

It became a hassle, watching his excellent figure by my door and his unnerving eyes on me. I gave him a choice. "I have a shipment coming in tonight, if it crosses over and gets to my warehouse safely, then, I'll have my answer."

With a single nod, he walked away, disappearing down the hall.

I waited for hours until I heard the good news that had my lips stretched out into grin.

It must've cost me my pride, but at the end, I won. And I had to celebrate my first win after such a long and excruciating time period.

. . .

"Another glass of scotch please! Neat!" I yelled out as I emptied the content of the glass in my hand into my mouth.

Was I tipsy? Yes.

Was I going to stop drinking just yet? No.

The night was young and I needed to drink my sorrows away. I needed to celebrate my recent win but since I had no friends to hangout with at a normal club, I decided to sit at the boring bar and drink myself into the realm of nothingness.

"Don't you think you've had enough?" A familiar husky voice rasped from the left of me.

My head whipped towards that direction and my words were immediately caught in my throat.

It was him.

Him. Ghost. The messenger.

Without the mask.

Were my eyes deceiving me?

Was the alcohol getting the best of me?

"Have I seen those eyes before?" I breathed, my eyes narrowed into slits and my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

A chuckle vibrated out of him. "Perhaps."

"Did you follow me here?"

He chuckled. Again. "Maybe."

I fell silent, watching him with curious eyes and taking the liberty to familiarize myself with his features. So peculiar. So immaculate. So exquisite

I had never seen a man as beautiful as Ghost. He was out of this world. His features like a perfectly created art, perhaps a perfectly written poem.

There was an edge of darkness to him, and yet, he seemed to shine the brightest in the room. So bright that everyone had their eyes on him. Men and women.

My eye dropped to his lips as there parted to entertain the glass been slid between them.

The manner at which he sipped his drink, the manner at which he swallowed the liquid and the manner at which his throat bobbed-there were all special.

He was special.

Too special to be an ordinary messenger.

He had a composure of a leader which made me wonder who the man really was. He had to be something. Something more than a mere messenger.

"And there I was, imagining how atrocious your face looked for you to have continuously gone through the troubles of shielding it away from the world. Guess I was wrong."

He snorted a laugh, revealing his perfect, pearly dentition. "Did you just call me handsome?" He quirked a questioning brow.

A ghostly smile played at my lips. "Maybe."

"Your accent," he observed, index finger gliding in a circular motion around the tip of the glass cup on the table. "You're not Italian, are you?"

My jaw locked in an instant, my grip on the tumbler in my hand tightening so hard that my knuckles paled. "I'm a Rodriguez."

He tsked. "Not by blood."

"I am a Rodriguez. I was legally adopted." I retorted.

His lips stretched into a smile. "There's nothing legal about that family and there was nothing legal about your adoption." He leaned back into his seat, his legs thrown apart in a man-spread. "You were auctioned. Say it as it is, Ginevra."

"Adopted."

"Auctioned. You were sold to them, embrace it."

"I was sold to no one."

"You were."

"I was adopted."

"You were bought."

I couldn't hold back any longer. He was getting a reaction out of me and he smiled through each irritated tick of my jaw and each enraged flex of my fingers.

Slamming the butt of the cup against the table, I hissed. "What do you want?"

"To help you."

His statement drawled laughter out of my throat. "And you think I need your help?"

Leaning his back on the backrest of the cushion, Ghost hummed his response, "I don't do thoughts, I do beliefs. So, yes, I do believe I can help you."

My interest piqued. "And this thing you believe you could help me with, what might it be? Ghost?"

"Power." He breathed wordlessly. "You crave power. The power that'd give you the freedom you desire. The freedom to destroy Dario Rodriguez and his family."

My eyes widened and Ghost scoffed at my reaction. "Don't look so startled, Ginevra, you should know by now that digging up information on anyone is the least difficult task to perform in our world."

I nodded in understanding. Still, I was hesitant to accept his offer. There was something fishy about his proposition and I couldn't allow myself fall into danger because of my unquenchable thirst for power.

"You belong with the Sanchez's," I had stated as I emptied yet another glass of the burning liquid into my mouth.

Ghost nodded in agreement. "A fact that will remain unchanged for an unforeseen period of time."

Another pour of drink found its way down my burning throat.

I needed to be drunk, I needed to make this decision without being completely aware of it, I needed to blame my poor decisions on the alcohol when I sobered up, hence, I continued downing glass after glass of scotch and yet, I was still so sober that I began to question the originality of the drink.

"Then, why would you want to help me? What do you stand to gain?"

"Mental stimulation." He quickly answered, causing my eyes to narrow at him. "You're an enemy but a powerless one and there's no fun indulging with people with no power." He leaned forward, fingers interlaced and clamped together in between his bent knees, elbows resting above his knees.

"I desire to make a powerful enemy out of you and I desire to join hands together with you for the destruction of the Rodriguez name."

"You're ambitious." I commented.

"I am." He affirmed.

"How do you intend to make me powerful when all you are is just a messenger? You should seek out power for your own self before pinning to seek it out for another."

Excitement danced in his ocean blue orbs. His lips twitching at the corners as he heaved out a sigh, leaning back into the soft leather of the couch. "I am a messenger, and yet, I am so much more."

Of course he was.

"And this power, how do you intend to help me get it?"

A moment of silence stretched between us. Minutes passed and he still stared at me absentmindedly like he was in deep thought.

With a heave of a shaky breath, he rose from his seat as her ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

"The pakhan of Russian Bratva. Viktor Nikolai Advik."

The glass in my hand shattered, my blood trickled down my clothed thigh, my eyes stayed widened and unblinking and I remained unmoving.

I was frozen with shock because of the name which was mentioned.

Viktor Nikolai Advik.

This was about to be my doom.

When I was bought and brought to be groomed as a part of Dario Rodriguez's family, my life had immediately taken a turn for the worst.

It was a hassle, growing up in his Godforsaken estate. The house was so beautiful and eye catching on the outside but on the inside, the people who dwelt in it made it a hell hole.

Dario Rodriguez's children loathed me, especially his eldest and only son-Gustavo.

The boy detested me so much and wouldn't hold himself back from physically harming me whenever he had the opportunity to, and whenever he set his eyes upon me.

One day, whilst I was being tortured by my brother dearest, the door had swung open and the most beautiful middle aged woman I had ever seen swaggered in with a huge smile.

And when he eyes landed on my tiny figure curled up into a ball on the floor, her smile had dropped at the speed of lightening.

She came close, held my hand, picked me up and held me to herself. She soothed me. And for the first time since I joined the Rodriguez famiglia, I found comfort in someone. I cried my pain into her shoulder and all she did was love me.

She loved me up until the day she breathed her last.

Julia Rodriguez.

A wonderful woman she was.

Julia did not die of natural causes. She was murdered and the crime was committed by none other than Gustavo Rodriguez.

Why would he do a wicked thing as such to his father's sister? He held a grudge against her.

A stupid grudge that pushed him to a point where he had tampered with her brakes.

He killed my Julia and he didn't care to conceal the fact. He wore his crimes with pride and every single member of his fucked up family stood by the side and applauded him.

Including his father. Julia's brother.

Dario Rodriguez had been planning Julia's assassination way before Gustavo swept in and stole the show.

My whole world came to an abrupt stop when I made this discovery.

Dario was really a fucked up man, so fucked up that he shook the hand of his son, praising him for planning and executing the assassination of his own sister.

It was the world we lived in. Loyalty was nonexistent.

I mourned Julia for as long as I was permitted to, and when I was barred from attending her funeral, I lost every ounce of humanity in me. So I made a promise to her, I promised her that I'd ruin that family.

I would do whatever it took to break them apart and burn them little by little until they became nothing but dust and ashes.

My plans were beginning to fall into place.

I was named the head of my famiglia and all that was left was power.

The power to sustain my reign.

Ghost was offering me an opportunity, a chance to achieve my goals and I would be a fool if I refused such offer.

I did it, I accepted his offer.

When he had mentioned Viktor Nikolai Advik, my interest piqued. I wanted to know more. It wasn't just a want, it was a need.

With a shrug of his shoulders, he muttered a simple, "kill his daughter." As though it was the easiest task to perform.

Viktor Nikolai Advik-Don Viktor-was the most powerful man in Russia if not the world. Rumor had it that he was a good man, kind, gentle, thoughtful even.

But the intensity at which he was good was the same intensity at which he was wicked.

His answer to everything was murder and he couldn't care less if he needed to murder his own blood to get the job done.

He had his head in the game for years and he wasn't stopping anytime soon.

He had a daughter, Ariana Advik. Quite the reputation she had.

Ariana was a young lady whose fame had gone beyond her, for her beauty, for her grace, for her hardened heart and for her addiction to whoring around.

She was everything a mob boss needed, and yet, she was unrelenting when it came down to ruining her and her family's reputation.

Rumor had it that Don Viktor had a first wife who had given him a daughter but when tragedy struck his home, he lost his wife to the cold hands of death and his daughter somehow vanished without a trace.

And now, all Don Viktor had was Ariana. So, my hesitation, perhaps fear when the exquisite young man suggested that we took away Don Viktor's only heir was expected.

"And why would I want to kill her?" I had asked, watching as Ghost lit up his cigar, placing the thick stick between his lips before dragging in a smoke.

With a huff, he answered. "You need The Pakhan's attention and he'd never give it to a woman. Except a woman who earns it. If you play your cards right, maybe, just maybe he'd give you an opportunity to prove yourself to him."

"His attention might very well cost my life." I chirped.

Ghost chuckled. "Like I said, play your cards right."

I was too stunned to speak, too conflicted to accept-but my desperation and greed were stronger than my self control.

So, I nodded once at Ghost's proposal and in the back of my mind, I knew I was finished.

. . .

About seven days ago, when I had accepted Ghost's offer, he had given me details of how the mission was to be carried out.

It took me about two days and numerous refusals before we were able to reach an agreement. And when he had asked me a simple question, I hadn't given it a long thought before answering.

I always knew whom I'd give up for my quest.

"If it came down to framing someone for the death of the Pakhan's daughter, who'd you chose?" Ghost had asked.

It only took a hot minute before I breathed, "Gustavo."

Ghost nodded, seemingly aware of what my choice would be before he even asked the question. But he wasn't completely satisfied with my answer. "There has to be two culprits. You have to play both the hero and the villain in this case. Your brother cannot go like that, else, rebellion will be stirred up and a division will happen. . .you can't afford that trouble right now. Chose someone else."

I chuckled, finding reason with him. And with one sharp intake of breath, I declared, "Maxwell."

Ghost raised an amused brow as he leaned forward, lips stretched into a grin and eyes narrowed at me. "Maxwell? Why him?" He asked.

I simply shrugged my shoulders in response. "He's been a pain in my ass since taking his father's place in the parliament. I can't stand him anymore."

"Good." Ghost proclaimed. "Maxwell it is."

We had an agreement. And by the end of the seventh day, Ariana Viktor Advik was murdered at the party of sinners.

For some odd reason, I had cried for her whilst I watched her get murdered. Tears had slid down my face and my body trembled. I felt pity. I felt guilty. And I felt regret.

And Ghost, I could feel the heat of anger radiating out of him whilst we both sat in that car. He held my hand when I trembled, he held my hand to soothe me but it was him who needed to be soothed.

He was more angry than I was at the turn of events, and I almost swore that he had a score to settle with Ariana, which was why he made a plan to abduct her and kill her himself.

But my stupid brother once again stole the show.

How fucked up.

The good news was, I had secured extensively every evidence needed to frame my brother and his dearest friend for the crime I had orchestrated.

With the evidence that implicated my brother, I planned on using it to blackmail my father into doing my bidding.

And as for the evidence gathered against Maxwell, there was no going back-it was all meant to lead to his death.

I was sated. After all many years of suffering under the Rodriguez's, I was finally beginning to see my victory.

I was winning.