My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

27

Over the next day, Josephine began to move the positions of her scheme into action. The analytics of it was fragmented, scattered around choices, but much of a normality to herself. Her plans weren't detailed, but adaptable. Circumstantial and vain, much like the games Josephine loved to play.

First, Josephine would turn her job into a pleasurable ambition much less than a cry for survival. She'd warp her interests to those of Camillo and Dante, and as gorgeous as they were, perhaps the sliver of narcissism that laid in her heart telling her that she might enjoy herself could possibly hold true.

So she'd dress accordingly: making sure the head maid ironed her plaid skirt accordingly, not a crease in sight, brimming her chemise with a new bottle of lavender perfume, pricey but worth the coin, and rouged her cheeks to match her set of lush earrings, golden and maroon.

Perhaps Dante would notice, perhaps he would not. She may have ill intentions, but he couldn't deny her allure, nor could his counterparts. Men had always succumbed to beauty, and despite his icy exterior, she'd assume that he was truly lonely and in need of comfort. And who else but Josephine to fit his thrall. Everything was lively and dizzying lovely in the woe of her preparations.

Her first assignment began today.

Josephine plopped down to the stone table, occupying the entirety of the bench was a matching plum purse. She bristled, expectant, and looked up with a dazzling, wicked smile.

To see Dante glaring at her and Beatriz sour. Neither had expected her presence.

"Why are you here and not with Camillo?" Dante said, all expectations from Josephine rippling away with the look of pure annoyance glowering off of Dante.

"Oh, darling Dante," Josephine said, waving him off with the pet name, his eyes narrowing in response. Beatriz lifted a brow. Josephine made note to never call him that again. "I already spent yesterday with him. All morning. Isla and Houston should've filled you in."

The answer didn't resonate. "Get out and do your job."

"I did," Josephine said, breeching out each word. Had he never been in a relationship? She shooed his comment away. "These things take time. Right now is the waiting part."

Instantly, Dante seized Josephine's arm. Right at the wrist, right where those binds were, and began tightening his grip. The faint bruises nearly gone burned underneath the pressure. "Miss Williams, do I need to break your whole arm," He said with a calm facade, "to show you how much worse it'll be when I break your whole body when I find out you didn't listen to my orders?"

She shriveled inside. Her blood raced.

She had already abandoned her pride for this. For her reward. It's only a year. Josephine told herself. A year of endless flirting and you'll have everything you'll need. Father's inheritance, an easy school year, and two boys as your whores.

So she smiled. Hard enough that her cheeks burned as her knees ached. Raising her other hand, she placed it oh so delicately on his that was about to break her wrist. "Don't worry, Dante. I haven't forgotten. But these things take time. I'll be happy to explain if you'd let go of my wrist."

Josephine didn't flinch as he released her, nor peeled her eyes off his figure as he drew those murderous hands and tucked them away in crossed arms. She withheld, feigning disinterest from the threat of his wrath as she retreated her stance, hid her arms underneath the table, and scrubbed the area furiously. Trying to forget it all with a looming smile in place.

"Camillo is known to be with multiple girls," Josephine said slow. Her intent was of understanding, but all Beatriz did was roll her eyes. Josephine's eyes flashed, then relented, as she continued. "I'm sure you've noticed by now that Camillo is drawn to anything new. As of now, he's sampling the newest edition of our school."