IN LOVE WITH THE RUTHLESS MAFIA KING

Arie

I rush down the stairs to the subway, maneuvering around the heavy crowds of people as quickly as I can.

New York is a beautiful city, but holy crap!! is it ridiculously busy? - All the time.

"Excuse me!" I exclaim as I continue squeezing past person after person, reaching the end and rushing around the corner to the next set of stairs.

I seriously don't have the stamina for this shit.

Clutching my purse tightly, I pace down the final flight, holding my breath when I feel a side stitch coming on. Pressing my hand against my hip, I skip the final step and run onto the platform.

The sound of a train departing steals my attention and my eyes widen as I catch a glimpse of it driving away. Shit.

I release a deep sigh, trying to catch my breath as I stand on the platform, watching my train disappear down the tracks.

Feeling various eyes on me, I look at them, giving a what the hell do you want to stare, before turning around and running a hand through my long blonde hair.

Relying on public transport all the time can be a real pain in the ass.

It's my fault though, I should've taken my driving lessons when I had the chance, but I guess I was so occupied with college that I convinced myself I didn't have the time for anything else.

Making my way down to the other end of the platform, I glance up at the small screen to check what time the next train arrives. I know they usually run every five minutes or so.

The weather at this time of year isn't exactly the warmest. January temperatures can be a real bitch, and they're even worse when you have to stand among the cold walls of a New York subway at six o'clock in the fricking evening.

Fisting my hand into the inside pocket of my jacket, I take out the small invitation leaflet I received in the mail the other week. When I initially enrolled in college to study photography, it was always my goal to achieve the best I could.

After graduating with honours and one hundred and twenty credits, I decided I was going to try my hand at starting up my own photography business. Freelancing is something I've often looked into while studying, but I never truly believed it could be possible.

Until now.

I couldn't believe my luck when I opened the invitation for tonight in the mail. Gallery by Damon is one of the most popular art galleries in the city of New York.

They're hosting one of the biggest exhibitions tonight and I received an invite for it. Me. Little ol' Arie Evenden who finished college a mere two months ago.

Apparently, my work during my studies caught the attention of a few dealers and other associates in the photography field, and the owners of Gallery by Damon wanted me to come down and be a part of the event.

Countless VIP's and other business people will be attending tonight, in the hopes of viewing and potentially bidding on some of the finest pieces of art you can get your hands on.

The sound of an oncoming train brings me back to reality as I step back from the edge, waiting for it to come to a stop.

Thankfully the journey to my stop isn't that far and before I know it, I'm getting off the train and heading out of the station.

I reach into my pocket and check my phone for the time, chewing on the inside of my mouth when I realize the event has already started. The one thing I seriously didn't want to do was turn up late, but here we are... turning up late.

After walking two blocks, I spot the gallery. Dozens of cars parked outside, most of them costing more than my goddamn life insurance. I glance down at my outfit, my eyes running over my black tights, black dress, and heels.

I had to google the kind of outfit I was supposed to wear before I even accepted the invitation to this place. The last thing I wanted to do was not look appropriate enough.

I'm still a young girl learning my trade, after all.

One day I suppose it will all come second nature to me, but for now, a little bit of research here and there won't hurt.

Opening my purse, I take out my Christian Dior perfume and spray it onto my wrists and neck, giving myself a little touch-up. My perfume; a gift I received from my parents for my twenty-first birthday last Thursday.

Feeling a little more refreshed, I make my way towards the main entrance and show the doorman my invitation and ID. I can't help but feel anxious when I show my ID, even though I have no idea why because it's me in the picture.

Once I'm inside, I try my best to fit in and relax as much as possible. The gallery itself is very busy, with men in black tie and women in beautiful dresses. Smartly dressed servers roam the open space, offering complimentary drinks and food.

The art surrounding me is incredible. The intricate details of photography and paintings never cease to amaze me, but this is on another level.

I don't even want to begin to imagine the money some of these will bring in. The people here must be of considerable wealth if they're willing to bid on some of these pieces.

After a while of wandering around and viewing a few different pieces, I come across a middle-aged man and woman who engage in conversation with me, making me feel more comfortable in the still unfamiliar setting.

They introduced themselves as Ricardo and Vivian Carter and apparently, they own an antiques store in Brooklyn. They also explained that attending these kinds of functions isn't anything new to them, this actually being the third one this month alone.

Ricardo introduces me to some people, telling them that I'm a recently graduated photographer who's freelancing. He essentially recommends me even though he doesn't even know me.

I feel myself growing slightly embarrassed by his kindness. I accidentally meet his wife's gaze, who smiles warmly at me.

After spending another few minutes being introduced to various people, we find ourselves sitting down at one of the seating areas, a drink in each of our hands.

"So who's that?" I ask, directing my attention over to a woman in a dark green dress as she speaks to a man while they stand by one of the photographs.

Ricardo follows my gaze. "That's Annalise Dziecko." He replies. "Well-known art dealer throughout the streets of New York and countless other places across the country."

Pursing my lips, I nod my head slowly as I absorb the information, glancing around the room as I scan the various faces.

His wife, Vivian, points to two men who appear to be identical twins. "That's Jayce and Davis Noelle," she explains. They attend almost every exhibition like this. They are very wealthy men."

They appear wealthy too. Visibly expensive Rolexes on their wrists, which even I can decipher from where I'm currently sitting. Even their shoes look like they've been polished by the most expensive products on the planet.

My eyes continue roaming the room until they eventually settle on someone else, who seems to steal all of my attention more than anyone else has so far.

"And who's that?" I ask, gesturing to the ridiculously handsome man standing across the room while he engages in conversation with two women.

His black suit, neatly presented tie, and jet-black hair are striking. The stubble around his jaw, the noticeable tattoos on his large hands. Even from this distance, I just know that everything about him screams power and authority.

"Who, him?" Ricardo asks and I nod, tilting my head slightly with curiosity.

"Yeah," I mumble.

He clears his throat. "That's Diego Russo, ma'am."

Diego

I always end up alone.

Or I guess at least it feels that way, anyway.

People often talk about grief as being empty. Nothing but complete and utter emptiness. But they're wrong. Grief is full. It's fucking heavy. It isn't an absence you have to fill, it's a weight you're left to pull.

Something that you're forced to carry with you no matter where you go. A weight so heavy that sometimes you feel as though you can't even breathe.

It's suffocating.

A constant reminder of what your future will no longer contain. The future you once thought you'd have.

For the people who say it gets easier. The people who said time heals. They're all liars. That's not the case at all. All that happens is the space between the times when you miss them starts to grow longer, and then when the time comes and you think of them again, miss them again, it hurts.

There isn't a pain like it. Not one I've endured anyway.

Once the pain that you feel from missing them fades away, the guilt creeps in. The guilt consumes you because you realize it's been too long since you last missed them.

You feel as though you're heartless for going an even second during a twenty-four-hour day without thinking about them. No thought of them crossing your mind at all.

It's just one big repetitive cycle.

I've felt all different kinds of pain throughout my life but grief.. grief surpasses all of them.

Placing the photo frame of my parents back down onto my desk, I shake my head, trying to rid the thoughts of them from my mind.

My childhood was far from sunshine and rainbows, but I know my parents loved me and my siblings with their lives. It's just a shame theirs were cut too short.

"Boss," a voice calls from behind me and I straighten my suit jacket, turning around to see Liam standing in the doorway to my office.

Liam is my oldest and closest friend. Our parents were friends and coincidently were only a few months apart from one another in age. It works out that I was born the year before Liam but logically it's only about five months.

"Sal got in contact, he said they're at the exchange point." He says and I nod my head slowly, toying with one of the cufflinks on my shirt.

"Any complications?" I ask and he shakes his head.

"No boss, none." He responds. "I just wanted to confirm with you before going ahead with the transaction."

I graze my teeth over my bottom lip, reaching into my pocket to pull out a cigarette. "Get it done, and tell Sal not to fuck around this time."

He nods his head before pushing off from the door frame and walking away. With a sigh, I exit my office too, heading down the hallway and towards the kitchen where Anna immediately stops cooking to greet me.

"Don," she greets with a small nod.

"Anna," I reply and give her a small nod in return.

"Is there anything I can get for you?" She asks and I shake my head, watching as she offers a slight smile before continuing to cook.

Opening the patio doors, the sound of paws tapping against the concrete flooring along with a mixture of a bark and a growl caught my attention. Soon enough the huge dog comes into view and I stand still, watching as he runs up to me.

Six, is my Mac Corso who I rescued about two years ago now. Well, I say rescued but I just went in there and took him whether they were going to allow me to or not.

My sister Matilda begged me to let her choose his name, and I reluctantly gave in and allowed her. Little did I know she would call my new guard dog a goddamn number.

Still, he seems to like the name. I guess he didn't have much choice though.

"Ciao ragazzo." I greet him as I quickly stroke his head.

[translate: hello boy]

His fur is jet black, his ears were unfortunately cropped by his previous owners. They apparently were going to start using him for illegal fighting, but luckily I managed to get there in time to prevent that from happening.

Liam and I were going to see some guy about a late payment, and it turns out I took home a lot more than I had originally bargained for. However, Six has been an amazing addition to the family and has settled in well with the other dogs.

He showed some signs of aggression and withdrawal when I first took him home, but after a lot of extensive training with the best professionals, he seems to have made a good amount of progress.

I have eight guard dogs in total. Six is the only Mac Corso. Hydra is my Bullmastiff and only girl, Zeus is a Rottweiler and the oldest out of the pack. Optimus, Voss, and Billy are German Shepherds, and Jazz and Wolf are Dobermans.

Safety and security are of the utmost importance in my household and lifestyle, so having those eight dogs roaming the perimeter every hour of the day helps assist my men.

Six runs back off towards the backyard, eventually disappearing around the side of the house. With my cigarette still in hand, I reach into my pocket and take out my lighter, placing the cigarette between my lips and lighting it.

The air is cool and crisp today, with a slight breeze too. New York has always been my home and I love it here. I just wish it wasn't so fucking cold this time of year.

January 2nd; another day into the new year, and another day for me to make some good money, even better profits, and sign deals with the appropriate alliances.

Being the eldest of three siblings, my father always taught me everything I needed to know in preparation for the day when I eventually took over from him. I looked up to him a considerable amount and admired his work ethic and his ability to make a room fall completely silent when his presence graced it.

He always had so much power and authority and as a growing teenager, that was something I too hoped for one day.

My parents were good people and knew exactly where their loyalties lay with each person they had any sort of connection to. They were well respected, especially my father, and an alliance of many other mafia leaders.

Since becoming Don five years ago, I've made sure to take everything I've learned over the years and put them into my work, and how I choose to run my business.

I'm fair and considerate, but don't give second chances lightly. Not everyone deserves them, and the people that do, often don't get them.

There are only three people in my life that I trust; my brother, sister, and Liam.

My sister Matilda is still only nineteen and not completely reliant on keeping her mouth shut, so I can't exactly tell her every single detail of any dealings that I have. But I know that if there's something important to tell her or anything I need her to do, she would be trustworthy.

Derek, my brother is only a year younger than me and a loose cannon at times, but I have so much faith in him and know at the end of the day, he'll always make the right decisions. He may not always go about them correctly, but he gets the result we want in the end.

I've heard rumors of people labeling me as heartless and ruthless. But in all honestly, to say either of those things about me would probably be an overstatement, but I don't think I'm too far off it.

After everything I've witnessed and everything I've been through, I'd like to think I have every right to be cold and heartless if I choose to.

Becoming a mafia boss at the age of twenty-one after witnessing something so horrific, gives me that right. The dire need for revenge gives me that right.

Turning on my feet, I notice two of my men patrolling the grounds, walking in my direction. "Where's Derek?" I ask.

They both look at each other before turning their attention back to me. "Uh, I think he's still in New Jersey, Don." One of them replies.

"Get him to call me," I instruct. "We have things to discuss."

Arie

It's embarrassing how many times I've pressed replay on the same song since I first started playing it, a mere ten minutes ago.

Overplaying songs has to be one of my worst habits but I just can't seem to stop doing it. This is exactly why I end up getting bored of songs after a while - I do it all to myself.

I reluctantly decided to skip I Hate U by SZA and select Crying Lightning by Artic Monkeys instead. My taste in music is honestly all over the place. I'll listen to any style, any singer, from any year.

Crossing my leg over the other, I shift on my bed as I lay on my back, continuing to flick through some of the pictures I took at a wedding last weekend. With my camera in hand, I smile to myself, knowing that this couple is going to have these pictures of their special day to keep forever.

Since attending the event at Gallery by Damon last year, I've been so blessed with numerous opportunities to further my career.

I met some incredibly talented people and made some new connections in the photography industry. I learned more and discovered more about myself as a person and as a photographer.

Everything in my life seems to be just perfect right now. It's as though all the things I dreamed about as a child are finally coming true.

A warm smile finds its way onto my face as I turn the camera off, sitting up and getting off my bed. I reach down to my shoes and slip them on, briefly pausing the music playing in my earphones.

Hooking the strap of my camera over my head, I hang it around my neck and walk over to my small vanity table, picking up a small hair tie and putting my hair into a messy bun.

I think I have finally managed to master doing the perfect messy bun. Believe it or not, it's taken a lot of practice and dozens of re-watched TikTok tutorials, but I've finally got there.

It's not as easy as it looks, I'll tell you that much. One time you try to do it and it's too scruffy, so you take it out and try again only for it to be too neat, so then you back at square one again. You have to have the right amount of strands hanging and enough hair in the actual bun, otherwise it just looks floppy and you may as well just put it in a ponytail or something.

Satisfied with my hair, I pick up my purse and phone before heading out of my apartment. It took me a considerable amount of time trying to find the perfect place in a city like New York. For a start, I could barely afford anything that even remotely caught my attention.

It was challenging, I can't deny that, but after a lot of saving and cutting down on things, I finally managed to collect enough money to get myself a place. The rent isn't too pricey, and with the money I earn from freelancing, I'm able to have this apartment all to myself.

To say I managed to do all of this on my own and without any financial help makes me feel pretty damn proud, and I'm not going to knock myself down and complain about its size because although it may be on the smaller side, it's still perfect for me.

It has everything I could need; a kitchen, living area, bathroom and bedroom. As long as I'm safe, have a bed to sleep in, and have food in my refrigerator, I consider myself extremely fortunate.

As I make my way out of my bedroom and towards the kitchen, I notice Martinez sitting on the back of the couch, washing his paws. I approach him, stroking his head as he purrs into my hand.

He is a Siberian cat, with white fur, grey ears, paws, and a tail with bright blue eyes. To be honest, I don't even know where the name Martinez came from or how I even started to call him it. I guess it just came naturally and stuck.

"Hey, boy." I greet him softly as he looks up at me. "Oh no, don't go giving me those eyes," I tell him playfully and he continues to purr as I give him one last stroke.

Martinez is a really good little cat and just lounges around the apartment all day. I've been so lucky with him. He's never tried to scratch any of my furniture, only using his scratching post and jungle gym.

Life can often get a little lonely sometimes, so he's a good companion to have around and keeps me company.

"I won't be long," I tell him before motioning my head towards his food bowl. "Go have some breakfast and I'll be back before you know it," I add, bending down and kissing his head.

Turning on my feet, I grab my keys from the counter and head down the small hallway before exiting the apartment. I glance down at my phone and resume playing my music. The previous song comes to an end and R.I.P 2 My Youth by The Neighbourhood begins to play next.

Jesse is such an amazing artist and I just love him and The Neighbourhood in general really. They don't have one bad song, and that's a fact.

Once I've left my apartment building, I take the short walk to Cuppa Jo, my local coffee shop. I must be one of their most loyal customers because I don't go a day without stopping by here for my daily dose of caffeine.

This is my usual morning routine. Get up, shower, and get dressed before heading out to get coffee. As sad as it may sound, I don't have many friends. The only one I do have lives with her boyfriend and doesn't have a lot of time for me now. We used to see each other all the time but now I'm lucky if I even receive a text from her during the week.

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand that we're growing adults and we're no longer teenagers anymore, but I just think it's important to keep in contact with your friends even when you're in a relationship. Especially considering she's my only friend too, and vice versa.

Still, never mind I guess. As I said, I have Martinez to keep me company.. even if he is a cat.

After stopping by Cuppa Jo, I take my coffee and head out to the park. The sun is out today and the sky is a soft blue, with scattered clouds. It's unusual weather for January but I'll accept it.

As long as I'm not stuck out in the rain, I don't mind it being a little sunny like this. Even if it is still cold.

I find a nice spot by one of the many trees here and sit down, making myself comfortable. My music abruptly stops playing in my ears, followed by the sound of my ringtone as I glance down at the screen, noticing my mom is calling me.

Answering her call, I greet her happily. "Hey, mom."

"Hi honey, how are you?"

"All good thanks, you? How is work?" I reply.

She lets out a faint laugh which makes me smile. "Oh you know, same old, same old."

My mom is a principal at the local elementary school and surprisingly loves her job. How she can cope with taking on as much as she does on a day-to-day basis and be around all those children genuinely amazes me.

"What are you up to today?" She asks.

I hold the camera up to my eye and take another shot. "Just in the park taking some pictures," I reply as I take a photo of a butterfly as it flies past a tree.

We continue speaking about different things such as her book club which she's so obsessed with. It's nice to see her actually doing something and finding a hobby. It makes her happy and that's good enough for me.

"So what's the book at the moment?" I ask as I adjust my lens.

"Far from the Tree by Robin Benway." She replies enthusiastically.

She proceeds to tell me how it's about a girl named Grace who was adopted as an only child and discovers she is in fact a middle child. She puts her own baby up for adoption, and goes to look for her biological family.

She goes on to say that it is an emotional journey about people trying to find themselves after being in the social care system, and a lighthearted read.

"Well I'm glad you're enjoying it." I say truthfully as I continue looking for things to photograph.

I snap one last photo before leaning back on my elbows and flicking through all the ones I've just taken. Some birds, some of the sky and others of buildings which I thought looked quite aesthetically pleasing.

Just as I go to turn the camera off, something catches my eye in the last picture I took. Zooming in on the camera, I spot a group of men in the background. There's roughly six of them, two dressed in all black clothing with dark hair.

I'm no detective, but they seem to be participating in some sort of exchange.

Wait a minute. Is that a gun?

Shit.

What the hell are they doing?

Furrowing my brows, I glance back up from the camera and in the direction of the men, noticing some of them getting into a car, but one of them looking directly at me.

Oh fuck.

Oh my god.

"Uh mom, I've gotta go." I mumble. "I'll speak to you soon." I add before disconnecting the call as I continue to stare at the man.

He says something to one of the other men and he too, looks in my direction. Quickly making the decision to get the hell out of here, I hastily collect all my things, standing up from the grass and making a run for it.

I don't even bother looking back as I make my way through the busy streets, trying my best to blend in with the constant rushing crowds.

I have no idea what I just witnessed, or what I caught on my camera, but one thing I know for sure is that it wasn't anything legal.

Soon enough I reach my apartment building and rush inside, pulling my earphones from my ears and repeatedly pushing the button on the elevator in the hopes it would make the doors open faster.

Once they do, I step inside and head up to my floor, quickly making my way down the hall and to my apartment where I make sure to double lock the door when I close it behind me.

I pace back and forth, chewing on my fingernails as I try to process what just happened. What could it have been? Just a few men having a casual conversation? One just happening to pass something to another?

Or was it something more? Something bad?

Suddenly a loud knocking on my door startles me, causing my heart to literally jump into my throat as I freeze, staring straight ahead at the door.

The knocking continues and my hands begin to grow clammy. Shit shit shit. This isn't good.

Cautiously making my way over to the door, I look through the peephole and see the two men from the park standing on the other side.

My heart thuds in my chest as I grow increasingly anxious. Who the hell even are those people and what do they want with me?

"We know you're in there." A deep, unfamiliar voice calls out in an accent and sadistic tone.

I take a few steps away from the door, my eyes wide with fear. "Who are you?" I ask with a shaky voice.

"The big bad wolf." He replies sarcastically.

My eyes widen and I glance around the room in a panic, not knowing what to do.

I decide to run towards the table where my phone is placed and dial 911. Just as I'm tapping in the first number, the man speaks again.

"Now, now.. I probably wouldn't try to call the big scary boys in blue. That definitely wouldn't help your situation." He calls from the other side of the door.

My head instantly snaps up in the direction of the door, my breathing growing more and more erratic with each passing second. Reluctantly I put the phone down and gulp heavily.

"You have five seconds to open this door or it will be kicked down." He threatens.

He begins to count from one but barely even reaches three before a huge crushing scares me so much, that I scream in fright. The two men storm through my apartment, somehow knocking the door right off the hinges, along with the security chain.

The two of them walk over to me, cornering me by the wall and exchange a look with each other.

"Now now, what do we have here?"