My Tragic Mafia Life | ✔️

32

Back then, it had only been for leisure shopping for Josephine to be out until dark. Now it was for murder. For a date with Dante, or death. The two could be switched and it would all be the same for Josephine. She was clearly on edge. A young girl like her in such dark streets, without a word to Mother or Father, she felt herself sinking into the shadows. As if she was a wisp of darkness.

That honed edged faded, and... When thoughts of worry came, she couldn't help but think of Father. He had accepted Mother's advice to intern Josephine at his company. It was both soothing and sickening. Under constant watch of the devil, a cruel perfectionist no less, always made her feel invalid to his skills. He had done so much for his empire. He has done so much. She couldn't imagine doing the same, getting the results he expected.

While Mother played, Father was one to always see results. He knew that the threat of losing her position to his inheritance had helped. Though it had only been a month since their discussion, her life at school was smooth. Camillo had fed her assignments, and she ate them all. Like her Father expected, Josephine's grades were high. Like her Mother expected, she did no work to receive them.

Well, not the type of work that she thought of. Josephine could smile at the thought of Mother's reaction in seeing the hardships Josephine had endured for those nods of approval. Perhaps she'd faint, or maybe she'd order a new dress.

Camillo was exactly where Josephine had imagined him to be. He had rounded the corner underneath a dim street light, the usual posh style of his hair and in the now-familiar leather jacket and jeans. Beside him stalked Valentina and the twins. Once, she had been diffuse with nerves. Analytical of their words, their actions, their gait. Now she couldn't help but keep her eyes unfocused.

Today would be the hardest. Dante would hate her being here, she imagined icy hostility, but she needed to be firm. She would be strong. Suffering would turn into reward in due time.

To accommodate her positive rationality, she greeted her acquaintances with a levied, pretty smile.

Lucia stopped in her tracks, wearing a dark blouse with a collar clung tightly to her throat. She rasped to Camillo, a voice full of malice. "Who the hell did you invite?" Brown eyes flashed towards the unwanted guest and intruder towards their little scheme, who meagerly smiled in reply. Then a sneer. "And what the hell is she wearing?"

Until Lucia had pointed it out, Josephine had completely forgotten what her appearance consisted of. She reran an eye over herself. The practical ivory shoes didn't steal away from the knee-length navy dress worn around her skin beneath the fabrics of a large checkered overcoat. She decided not to wear heaps of jewelry, just a dangle or two, if her dark colors weren't significant enough of mourning.

Tucking her head a few inches down to meet the ginger's short stance, Josephine tried not to look smug as answered. "Ralph Lauren."

"Didn't I tell you that she'd be coming? And Josephine, we're going to a murder site." Camillo said next to a troubled Valentina. "Not a fashion show."

"You were being serious," Lucia said, void of amusement.

"I need to be appealing to Dante." Shrugged Josephine. It wasn't as if they provided a dress code for their rendezvous.

"That's a lie and you know it." Lucia hissed, stalking towards her with great fervor. Like Josephine, her colors consisted of a dark theme: deep maroons and black fabric, but not as styled. Nor as pretty. Josephine noticed a broken hem here and there, then tucked that vital information away. Cheap.

"What else am I supposed to wear to a crime scene?" Josephine accused. Her eyes darted to the garments worn by Lucia's brother and Valentina whom she hadn't acknowledged yet. A ripped sweater for Luca and a sleeveless champagne top for Valentina. Both ugly, and outdated.