Mafia's Obsession [18+]

1.

Sofia

Mediocre is what I would describe my life. Boring, flat, never-ending straight line with such a constant dullness. But it isn't that bad to be called bad. If anything, I'm living a quite privileged life.

I'm nineteen, but I don't know what I'm doing in life.

Since I was a child, I had everything served to me on silver platter. We live comfortably in a big mansion up in the hill. I went to a private school where all snobby rich kids attended. Boring.

My dad was once an adviser in a mafia family, now my half-older brother follows his footsteps. I have been living on illegal money for all my life.

On the other side, my mom owns an Italian restaurant and an art gallery in the city and is quite involved in many charity foundations. You know, giving back what's not ours in the first place.

I inhale deeply, sitting up on my canopy bed after tossing and turning for hours. It's already past midnight and I can't even close my damn eyes.

The feeling's familiar. It's not the first time my mind can't shut down. Thoughts rushing, waiting to be distracted.

I get up from the bed, skipping the room to my giant walk-in closet. I grab a large white towel from the drawer before heading outside.

The house is dead silence. Marco, my half-older brother, is most likely out to do you-know-what while my parents are already entering rem.

I descend the stairs, going to my favorite place in this house. A swimming pool with a magnificent night view. It has been renovated last summer and I have never been more in love.

This is a place where I drown my thoughts. A good way to put my mind in order. To reorganize the havoc inside and keep it beneath the surface. An imaginary line to my sanity.

The pool lights gleam while the whole area is dark besides the moon and city lights. My house is standing on the hill, so it's a beautiful sight to gaze especially in the night. Surprisingly, the sliding glass door has already been opened when I step out hitting the air outside.

It's too late to realize that I am not alone.

A figure is sitting on the lounge chair leaning on his elbows. He's wearing a white shirt that's rolled on his sleeves, black inks creeping from his forearms down to both hands. Fingers intertwined—those strong, long tattooed fingers that capture my attention more than necessary. God has to have a favorite. Because the man in front of me is perfection.

I dare to look up and meet his piercing gaze.

Those eyes are darker than the night.

This man is Ezio Salucci. The Boss. The crime lord. He's my half-brother's best friend and technically running the city—Sicily. I remember I have once had a crush on him when I was twelve.

I know. I was a crazy child. He's eleven years older than me.

But he's hot, dangerous and a blaring red flag. How could I not?

"Uh, can I help you?" I start, silently cursing myself of the current situation. I kinda don't know what to say. We have never had a conversation before. He rarely spoke when he was in our house, always going straight to Marco's office on the third floor.

"It's one a.m. Why are you here?" His tone's mean and accussing as if I'm annoying him.

Everything in him screams run. His demeanor is cold and guarded, yet somehow he always has this hint of evil smirk over his lips.

"Why? This is my house." I scoff, walking to nearest lounge chair to put my towel. He seems taken aback at my response for a moment before gathering his composure. A slow, cruel smirk appears. And I suddenly feel nervous.