The Art Of Seduction - A Mafia Book [18+]

Chapter 1

Ftr/rr?

^ Rosamaria Castro

"Hey! Are you blind?" I snapped at man who bumped into me knocking me forward a few steps while I was calmly walking towards the restaurant of the airport to quiet the loud wailing of my stomach. Every time I was hungry, my stomach would demonstrate its spot on impersonation of a whales cry that would grab the attention of everyone near me, embarrassing me.

"Fuck off!" He spat at me before walking away to wherever he needed to go at the Albuquerque International Sunport. If we were somewhere completely isolated, I would have thrown hands at him. He would've regretted ever speaking a word to me. I was by no means the most dangerous person in the world but I knew how to make a man feel pain. I always had the upper hand because most men never knew that a considerably average sized young woman like myself could

"Pendejo." (Asshole) I muttered before walking off to the restaurant with my suitcase. I sniffed the redolent air of the restaurant, another wail sounding in my stomach as I did. I should've eaten breakfast but since I was already running late for my flight, I didn't have the time. Now that I was at the airport, I had enough of it to finally get myself something to eat.

I ordered myself food as soon I sat down in the restaurant in one corner. A headache was beginning to form and all I could do at my table was hold my head and wait for my food to arrive.

As if my mama already knew that I had a headache, I heard my phone ring from my bag. Highway to hell by AC/DC blared loudly  from my bag and I groaned loudly as I fished my phone out, to stop its ringing from disturbing everyone around me.

"¿Qué pasa mamá?" (What is it, mama?) I spoke into the phone.

"Soy tu Madre. Habla con un poco más de respeto." (I'm your mother. Talk with a bit more respect.) She scolded, making me flinch at her harsh tone. I could throw hands at people twice my size but a slight sharpness in my mama's tone scared the crap out of me. It was probably because of the amount of chancla's that came flying at me everytime her voice rose.

"Lo siento, mamá," (I'm sorry, mama.) I mumbled, fiddling with the spoon on the table. "¿Porque llamaste?" (Why did you call?) I asked her, looking at the waiter with a tray of food walk past me towards the table of a family of three; a mother, a father and a daughter.

Disappoint flooded in me but I should've known that no restaurant served you your bacon and eggs five minutes after you placed your order, even the ones at the airport.

"I was just checking up on you, Rosa." She calmly said and I imagined her sitting down on the sand colored couch in our living room. "You're going to learn such disgusting things from that diablo."

Here she goes again, I thought as I rolled my eyes.

"Why can't you just leave it? Por el amor de Dios." (For God's sakes.) She hated the fact that I was in the Italian Mafia.

"You shouldn't have made me join it in the first place, if you wanted me to leave it." I told her.

She was the reason why we got involved in all of this; she was the one who offered me to the Italian Mafia as an asset because we needed money to survive. Papa had died when I was only 5 years old. He was the only one earning and after he died, mama couldn't handle it. She started drinking instead of finding a job to provide for us both.

I was angry at her in the start for it but a part of me felt for her, the part that held compassion for the pain that my mother was going through.

It was fortunate for us that the Italian Mafia had thought the 5 year old me was worth investing in after I almost beat the life out of Anthony Vasquez for purposely dropping paint on my crayon drawing at the park.