Affairs Of The Heart

🌺I N T R O

g l o s s a r y

'Chamo' (origin: Venezuelan slang) ~ Bro or dude

'Mama Guevo' (origin: Venezuelan slang) ~  Cocksucker

Prologue

Cloaked by a veil of darkness, he sat above the swaying crowd, situated amongst four figures who didn't pay as much attention down at the mob who pressed themselves together so tight they all became one. One large sweaty, drunken, horny bunch.

Luca tapped his shoe. Barely apart of the conversation, his friends engaged themselves with. No, not at all.

In his throne of a chair like a king, the only thing amiss was the crown which should have sat atop his coal hair. Idly and impassively he sipped the horrid whiskey neat in his crystal glass with his hazel eyes like thunder trained solely on nothing.

He was the sharpest of thorns in both intellect and in the way he kept himself guarded. As blank as a printer sheet his attractive chiseled face was as always relieved of all facial expressions.

To his immediate right sat Nikolai, Prince of Moshisk, a childhood friend and the eldest of the five. He thrived in the night club's party scene and called for another drink from a passing waitress who he ogled like a man who'd been without food for days. It was his tenth and they'd only just arrived.

Next to the Prince not so charming was the youngest who ironically towered the five with an impressive height of 6'6. Zev as he was nicknamed, was half asleep in the corner having smoked another joint. His arm clanked with the excessive amount of watches he wore, each more high tech than the next, something he was quite pleased with, having fiddled with them himself.

Left of the scowling leader sat the only female of the group, Ezra, one half of the twin duo and aspiring New York fashion designer. The girl sat watchful of the Prince with eyes like hearts. The other half of the twin duo sat by her side, Estevan and he elbowed his younger sister by two minutes in the side to stop her staring. She, in turn, sent him a sharp look.

All five who were in actuality friends were more like family than family was family.

"¡Chamo! are you just going to sulk the whole night?" Ezra fussed like a two-year-old, pushing her Fenty lipstick painted lips in the color "Ma'Damn royal red" into a pout.

Luca grunts.

He would sulk the whole night indeed. After all, he had not been in the mood to come out and party however upon the constant insistence of the yappy blonde Ezra, he'd gave in with a face like the taste of lemons....sour.

Personally, he would have preferred to spend the evening, doing the lovely mile-high stacks of approvals, requests and other doodads that decorated his desk at Donario Enterprises like a woman dressed in barely-there lingerie. But, unfortunately, his friends had wanted to celebrate.

When they asked earlier, he'd replied. "Celebrate what?" He was unsure if he'd forgotten a birthday, perhaps an arrangement. That happened sometimes when one worked as hard as he did.

The question had earned him a look equivalent to a spank on the bottom and not the thrilling, kinky kind either.

"You being engaged." The girl had cried in a tone that asked if it wasn't obvious. She then proceeded to butcher him with Venezuelan curse words that if he hadn't been fluent in would have thought she was reciting to him poems of love.