The Mafia’s Obsession

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What the actual fuck is wrong with me? What did Idolast night?

Okay, I know exactly what I did. What I don’t get is why. Usually, I make good decisions.

Last night, I did not make good decisions.

Going to that college party was stupid. The last thing I need is to get caught by the police at an event with underage drinking. Sure, I know some guys on the force who owe me a few favors, and I probably could have gotten away just fine. But that isn’t a good situation for anybody.

The really fucked up thing is, I don’t regret any of it.

Last night, I proved something to myself. And to Ayla as well, although she doesn’t know it yet.

No man will ever have her but me.

This won’t be a loving marriage. I fucking hatethe fact that it will be a marriage at all. I don’t need a wife, and I don’t need a partner. I barely even need friends. What I especially don’t need, what I won’taccept, is closeness. Toanyone.

All closeness leads to is pain.

I don’t want to marry Ayla. I want to keep her tied to my fucking bedpost.

Snarling in frustration, I throw my knife across the room, embedding it in the target I have set up in my penthouse. Every time I think about it, I get white-hot. With rage at my life being taken from me. With bitterness that I don’t have a say in the matter.

With disgust when I realize that I would do anything to bind her to me, regardless of the circumstances.

My phone buzzes. I pick up. “Hi, Nonno.”

I can hear the smile in my grandfather’s voice. “We’re meeting with the Gonzalezs today to arrange your wedding. Are you at home?”

Retrieving my knife from the target, I prepare to throw again. “Yes. Now?”

“I’ll send a car,” he says simply, and hangs up.

My next throw, the knife ends up sticking out of the drywall.

Like I could give a fuck.

***

It’s my first time visiting the Gonzalez estate. The place is as nice as you would expect, with a yard full of perfectly manicured hedges, statues, and water features. My grandfather’s driver parks out front, and Anthony Gonzalez meets us in the driveway, along with his wife and daughter. In the background, several bodyguards are present, watching.

“His wife is named Maria,” my grandfather hisses before we get out, “and the daughter is Ayla.”

I can’t help but smirk, even though I’m in a bad mood. I know Ayla a lot better than anyone else here realizes.

Including her.

We get out of our black SUV, and Maria Gonzalez is all smiles. “Nazio ! Good to see you again! I’m so glad I caught you on my way out.” There’s something strained about her mannerisms that I can’t quite place. My guess is she doesn’t like this arrangement for her daughter any more than I do.

“Maria,” says my grandfather curtly, barely looking at her. His lip twitches in what almost seems to be an uncharacteristic loss of composure. Then he turns to Anthony . “We have much to discuss!”

Maria makes her apologies, then gets in her little red convertible to go to spin class. Ayla doesn’t say a word, just follows the three of us into the house, avoiding eye contact with me.

***

Ayla

I sit at the kitchen table, listening to my dad and another mob boss discuss my arranged marriage to a man I barely know. I can’t bear to look at Alessio, even though his demeanor is different now from what it was last night.

He’s not staring a hole in the table anymore. Now, he’s looking right at me.

A bead of sweat drips down my armpit, tickling uncomfortably. What I’m planning to do is extreme, but it’s my only choice. I’ve been backed into a corner.

My father asks me a question. Something about wedding dates. They’re trying to include me, to pretend as though I have a say in this. I give a perfunctory answer, but I don’t even know what I’m saying. Not even a small part of me is listening. I’m waiting for my moment.

And waiting. And waiting.

Finally, I realize there isn’t going to be a moment. I just need to do it. It’s a matter of bravery, not timing.

I need to make the choice.

My gaze flits to Alessio. I can’t help it. This whole time, his presence has been a magnet, and I’ve been resisting. We make eye contact.

The strength of intention in his eyes makes me want to flinch, as though I’m pulling my hand away from a flame. What that look communicates is pure, primal need. It’s like he’s carving into my soul, seeing all the parts of me I do my best to hide.

For a moment, it even feels like he can tell what I’m planning.

Shivering slightly, I look away. That’s silly. I’m the only one who knows about the suitcase packed in the trunk of my car, and the key in my pocket.

“I’m going to go to the bathroom,” I say, standing up. “Don’t wait for me.”

“Be right back,” says my father sternly. “This is important.”

I mumble agreement and exit the dining room. As soon as I’m out, I hasten my steps, slipping into the garage and through the side door that leads to the driveway. My car is at the ready, carefully parked facing the right direction for an easy escape.

Heart pounding, I climb into the driver’s seat.

***

Alessio

Anthony Gonzalez takes a deep, frustrated breath at the sound of the car peeling out of the driveway. Looking through the window, I see a red Lexus sedan hit the street in a hurry.

“Sorry about that,” says Gonzalez, closing his eyes. “That was… unexpected.”

My grandfather’s tone is as cold as ice. “You said there would be no more problems, Anthony . I trust I don’t need to remind you the seriousness of our arrangement.”

The other boss looks pissed, but lowers his gaze in contrition. “I know, I know. We’ll find her.”

“No, Alessiowill find her. She won’t get far without spending money. You have access to her bank accounts and credit card activity?”

“Of course.”

“Give them to him. My grandson will have no trouble tracking her down.”

I nod grimly, an excitement coming over me. Ahunger.

It’s time for Ayla to find out who’s really in charge.