ɪɴᴋᴇᴅ ʙy ᴀ ᴍᴀꜰɪᴀ ᴍᴀɴ ( ᴊᴜɴɢᴋᴏᴏᴋ ꜰꜰ )

chap 02

Y/n

I stand at the corner of the party, feeling completely out of place. But Izzy has been my friend since kindergarten.
Really, when you get right down to it, she’s my only true friend.

So when she told me I had to enjoy my last night of freedom and that we should head down to this exclusive party where there would be a bunch of free drinks and hot mob guys, I said yes. If only so we could spend some time together.
Izzy’s the only person who knows the full extent of what’s going on.

My aunt is selling me to Jackson wang , the man who killed my parents. Or who ordered their murder, at least, which is just as bad in my book.

I could run. There’s nothing physically holding me here.
Except my aunt is a sadistic evil genius. Four years ago, in the most uncharacteristically kind move of her life, she bought me a Weiner dog for my sixteenth birthday.I fell in love with the little guy right away, with his deep brown fur, energetic personality, and this light in his eyes.

But the only reason my aunt bought him was so she could control me. When I left the house this evening, she had him in her lap like some kind of movie villain, stroking him as she told me to have a good time. She sounded deranged.
She is deranged.

She’s selling her only living relative to the man who killed her brother and sister-in-law. And all so she can retire, as she puts it. Apparently, caring for me since I was twelve entitles her to do whatever she wants.

I’d go. I’d get the heck out of here if it wasn’t for my little Doggo.

“Are you okay?” Izzy walks over, holding two drinks.

She’s like my opposite with her fishnet stockings and tattoos covering her arms. Her hair is dyed electric-blue.

Taller than me, she aims a grimace down at me, her eyebrows furrowing.

“This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?” I shake my head quickly, not wanting to spoil this.

When I’m jackson’s wife – one of many, if the rumors are true – I might never see her again.

My skin crawls whenever I think about that, but it’s worse when my thoughts turn to what my aunt will do if I back out of the wedding now.

Taking the drink, I raise my voice over the music. “Is there alcohol in this?”

“Not in yours,” she calls back. “Do you want there to be?”

“It’s illegal.” She laughs, and a moment later, I start laughing with her.

What a ridiculous thing to say. We’re standing in a room full of mobsters. Izzy’s uncle is in here somewhere, a loose connection with the Italian mob. She’s probably got an ex boyfriend hanging around someplace too.

“But still,” I say.

“I’m fine.”

“Shall we dance?” I wave a hand.

“You dance. I’m fine watching.”

“Are you sure?”

“Really. Honestly.” She frowns at me again. I can sense there’s so much else she wants to say, so much else she wants to do to make this situation better.

But what can she do?

It’s not as though she can go to war with the Irish mob,
with Jackson, and it’s not like she can rescue Doggo from my aunt.

She keeps a close watch on my dog, never letting me walk him without paid bodyguards keeping watch. When I was younger, I thought my aunt paid for those men, but she later told me Jackson has been paying her way for a number of years.