Book 1 of the [His Everything] series.
Amélie Levine Beaumont is the - first female - heir to the French Mafia (the second largest and most powerful mafia in the world). After her mother's unexpected death, Amélie hasn't been the same, and neither h...
After I was done training for the day and had my breakfast, it was around 3pm and my father called for a whole mafia meeting, so I decided to just take a quick bath and go downstairs to find a snack to eat.
I quickly threw on a simple cream and black plaid baggy shirt and paired it with my black leather trousers and my some boots. As for my accessories, I put on my gold necklaces, black sunglasses and black Prada shoulder hand-bag.
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After I finished changing, I quickly put on some light makeup as I didn't want to be late for my father's announcement. He's quite strict about punctuality.
When I finished applying my makeup, I swiftly made my way downstairs.
Upon my arrival, all the men that were sitting at the meeting table stood up and bowed their heads as a form of respect for their future leader.
Making my way to the chair opposite my father's, I told the men they could sit down as we waited for the arrival of my father.
For a man who's persistent on being on time, he loves to put on a show and arrive late. Ugh. Men.
Suddenly, the door to the meeting room was pushed open and revealed my amazing father - note the sarcasm.
Not only is he malicious towards other people - guilty or not - but he's abusive towards me, his own daughter. Both mentally and physically. This has been a reoccurring predicament for the last four years - ever since the night of my mothers death.
Ever since then, my father was no longer the happy family man that he was behind closed doors, instead, he became a tyrannical piece of shit, who beats me into believing that I was the cause of my mothers death.
He'd spend countless nights convincing me that I am nothing but a pathetic, useless, hideous waste of space who deserves nothing good in life.
Have I let his words get to me and spiral into a constant insecure feeling of self-hatred and self-consciousness? Yes.
Have I been retaliating by becoming the world renowned female assassin 'La mère de la mort' [the mother of death] in hopes of proving my worth to him? Yes. Yes I have.
However. Has it been working? No.
Long story short, the Couillon [dickhead] hates me.
Anywho, moral of the story, I absolutely despise him and I can't wait for the moment he dies so I can become the rightful leader of the French Mafia.
I was snapped out of my spiralling thoughts by the sound of a paper being placed onto the table in front of me. I look up and around to see the same bewilderment written across the name of the men.
With confusion clear on my face, I look to my father who is sporting a wicked grin on his face which sends creepy shivers down my spine.
"Père, qu'est-ce que c'est [Father, what is this]?" I ask, however, I don't need his reply to understand what this is.
Upon further inspection, I realise that this isn't just some piece of paper. It's an invitation to a ball.
The moment I am faced with this realisation, my head snaps up and I make eye contact with my ruthless father.
"Qu'est-ce que c'est que cette merde [what the hell is this shit]?!" I bellowed as I shot up from my seat.
"Installe-toi salope, et regarde ton ton quand tu me parles [settle down you bitch, and watch your tone when you're talking to me]!" My father barks across the room.
The room went silent, allowing my father to continue speaking.
"As I was about to say - before I was rudely interrupted," my father sneered at me before continuing.
"Everyone get themselves ready for the night of their lives. We're holding a ball tonight for all the mafia's across the world. I trust that everyone can be ready and alert by tonight." My father commanded.
With that, all the men stood up and bowed their heads in understanding and collectively replied with a "Oui patron [yes boss]." And made their way out of the meeting room.
As I sat there, shell-shocked and faced with the harrowing memories of the night of my mothers death, my eyes began tearing up.
I heard my father chuckling at me and calling me a "pute pathétique [pathetic whore]!"
"Qu'est-ce que tu fous [what the fuck are you doing]?! I know you're up to something père! Whatever you're doing is pointless. I won't be attending." I declare.
"LIKE HELL YOU WON'T BE, YOU LITTLE BITCH! Ayez du respect pour votre propre père [have some respect for your own father]. Besides, J'ai une surprise pour toi et je sais que tu vas adorer [I have a surprise for you and I know you'll love it]." My father replied with a mischievous look on his face. He walks up to me and slaps me right across the face, I'm guessing is because of my talking back to him.
