We walk to through the mansion, towards the lounge. I open the door to the room for the open bar, slash lounge room, holding it open for Mist and my two babies before entering myself.
The design of the room was made specifically to be in half. On the right side of the room is a lounge, with a dozen comfortable sofas and couches to sit on. The furniture, white, in contrast to the black painted room. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling, which probably costs only a few hundred thousands.
The left side of the room is a bar that any club would be jealous of. Papa wanted a range of drinks to be served to him or whenever we had guests over, also to show of how rich we are. The cupboards are made completely out of hard glass. My father likes everything to look as expensive as it is, so he didn't bother with wood. The counter is long enough for at least 12 people and is black marble. The stools are about 4ft high with leather as the material in the seat, all of which are designed with delicate stitches.
The air is scented with the smell of Jasmine lit candles with hints of expensive colognes and perfumes.
The moment I look to the corner, I groan. "Why are you everywhere?" I almost whine at his constant presence, walking over to the bar to pour myself a drink.
"Maybe because we live in the same house." Blade responds with a very much unappreciated 'duh' tone. "Obviously not my choice, if it was up to me, you'd only visit on weekends and that's me being generous." I bring the glass of whisky neat, to my lips as I narrow my eyes at him. "Just ignore him Sylvia." Mist mumbles against the rim off the glass in her hands, glancing at me from the corner of her eyes.
"Oh come on Mist! As the eldest ones, you should be on my side." He rotates the glass in his hand and watches as the clear brownish liquid swishes around inside it, looking entranced. I smile softly at him, briefly distracted by his less annoying state before saying, "Don't take it personal, she just likes me better." I chug the the rest of the alcoholic beverage before pouring myself another glass, enjoying the burn at the back of my throat, Mist grabs the bottle to pour herself more as well, hiking herself up on the high stool.
His face shifts from blissfully calm, to a scowl and glaring eyes. He scoffs, looking at my two dogs, laying at my feet, their head on the back of their paws. "Are they allowed to be in here?" He points his index finger at them with the hand he's holding the glass with. "If you are allowed in here, then they are too. In fact, if I'm being honest, they are way more well behaved than you are, I wonder who's the real animal here." I wink at him from behind my glass, smirking to myself.
Mist throws her head back laughing. He rolls his eyes at me, sighing as though he held the weight of the world on his shoulders. "Why do you hate me so much?" He asks, with genuine confusion, his eyebrows furrowed slightly. My eyes widen and my eyebrows lift.
Excuse me?
"Well where do I start? You took all the credit and praise for that time when I assassinated the guy you were supposed to kill, but couldn't because you had a crush on his doe eyed daughter- not that I don't see the appeal but still, you should have been more focused on the mission, than getting your first real blowjob."
I pause to take another sip of my drink before continuing my rant. "Or maybe because of the day when you locked me in the boxing cage because you lost the fight and kept bitching about how I must of cheated, in hand to hand combat." I take a breath before keeping going. "Maybe it's because you are so annoying that Satan himself wouldn't want to you in hell with him, in fear of you driving him insane." I smile sarcastically at him, giving a thumbs up.
"Each of those happened ages ago." He scoffs at me, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his chair. "You punched me in the stomach two hours ago and said "Tough love baby sister"." I mock his voice, making mine gruff and deep. "You have made zero personality improvements, whether you want to admit it or not" I take the last gulp of my drink, refilling it immediately. Talking to anyone other that Mist takes a lot of energy, I'd prefer to be binge watching 'Once Upon A Time' right now, or sleeping, or torturing someone. Even checking in on one of our drug lords just because I know he's afraid of me.
"Fine, be like that." He sighs, resting his head on the back of his chair. "I don't hate you, I just deeply loathe your presence and existence sometimes and I don't want you in my line of sight. I don't want you dead or anything, I just want you to shut the fuck up and get lost, you know?" I shrug my shoulders, crossing my legs. A smile grows on his face, "I can live with that. Not the get lost part though, I live here too, sissy." He gets up to pour himself another glass of bourbon.
Now that he's standing I can see that he is wearing a black tank top that exposes the tattoo on his built arm. We have a gym built into our mansion and use it three to four times a week, a break in between each day to regain your energy. The tattoo is just a wolf snarling at you. He got the tattoo a few months ago because he felt like it was a good representation of himself.
A predator, a killer.
That's what you think when you see him but he's also loyal to his family and only let's his guard down in the safety of his home, just like a wolf. Most of all, he loves to hunt. He and I have that in common. We both love to mess with our prey before actually killing them, not for torture but for our sick enjoyment. It's a strange way to bond with someone but, that's just us.
His skin is a caramel complexion, which he got from Mama. His eyes are hazel with specs of gold in them, also from her. He has wavy dark brown hair, which is a mixture of both our parents' but mostly Mama. It's also a bit messy because of his habit of running his fingers through it or pulling at it when he's frustrated.
I swear, he is going to start losing his hair if he keeps that up. I'll give him five more years before I can start slapping his bald head.
A gentle stubble on his chin that he maintains, it never grows out and he rarely shaves it all off. His jawline like Dylan O' Brian's, or so he keeps saying. He's wearing loose joggers that hang dangerously low on his hips, his Calvin Klein boxers peaking out. If they fall down, I will scream bloody murder. With all that, he's has on JD trainers men's trainers.
"How many of those have you had already?" Mist's eyes follow his movements as he pour himself another glass. He shrugs "I don't know...6, 7?" He answers, sounding unsure himself, bringing the glass to his lips. How is he not falling on his ass yet? This is going to be funny.
3, 2, 1...
Mist hops off her stool and snatches the drink from his hand. "Why?" He reaches to take it back but she quickly moves it away. "Papa would certainly not be pleased if you were to get drunk before dinner." She contradicts herself by finishing both hers and his drink. "He won't mind, stop being such a buzzkill." He tries to grab the empty glass to refill it but gives up when he fails again.
"Remember that time when you were so drunk, you passed out?" I ask him, teasing him by pretending to give him some of mine before taking it away and drinking it. "No." He scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion. "So what if I passed out?" He asks, irritated. "You passed out on the staircase...in only boxers, in a pool of your own drool." Mist finishes with a stifled laugh. His eyes almost pop out and I erupt with laughter. "Flame took a picture too." I put my hand on his shoulder, pushing him slightly as I laugh. He huffs and sits on the stool on the other side of me, his chin in his palm.
"Don't fret, you can come back after dinner." I pat his shoulder, false sympathy in my voice. He grunts and rolls his eyes. I chug my drink and place it in the sink under the counter before saying, "We'll see you again in...25 minutes for dinner." I jump off my stool, pulling my jacket together and fixing my outfit, not that it needed fixing but I just like to look on point.
Mist downs her drink and walks out the door, holding it open for me and my dogs. "Thanks." I glance up at Blade, giving him a soft smile before closing the door, leaving him alone. As much as I say I hate him, I would kill for him without a second thought, heartbeat or blink. My family are the only ones who I care about, everyone else are pawns on my board, waiting to be used.
"To the garden?" I ask pointing in the direction of the mansion's garden. She nods before gasping, grabbing my shoulder. "Wanna go clubbing after dinner?" Excitement evident on her face and her voice raises as a bright smile graces her lips. "Shh! You don't know who's listening. You know what the demons we call siblings would do if we are planning anything remotely fun and I don't want to deal with that." I whisper, my eyes scanning around us.
"You know that Papa would never let us go without at least two bodyguards each and one of our brothers to watch us. Did you not learn from the first time? Remember how every guy who even looked at us went pale when Blade and Lucian glared at them when they tried to approach us? One even started crying while the other passed out! Do you really want to go through that again?" I ask, a shiver of discomfort going down my spine. She frowns, her excited mood deflating.
Suddenly, glimmer of hope flashes in her eyes. She better not be thinking what I think she's thinking. "Maybe if you ask him, he will let us go alone". She whispers hopefully.
Damn it!
"I don't know..." I shake my head, dragging my words. "Please, I will owe you a favour." She begs, her hand clasped together as if saying a prayer. I think it over for a few seconds. I do like favours. "Fine." I sigh, hoping that I don't regret this later. She leaps-literally, with joy, clapping her hands. I point at her, "I will hold you to that favour." She nods frantically, agreeing blindly.
We stroll to the garden, watching Loki and Thor smell everything they see. Once we are at the swings in the flower garden, I clap "Go play." Immediately they run off, tripping over each other and barking playfully. Mist and I sit on the swings, her eyes following their every move and mine admiring the garden.
This was always one of my favorite places in the mansion. This is where I went to escape my life. The trees towering over me always provided me with protection that I would forever need as the princess of a mafia and it's most dangerous assassin. I found comfort in the beauty of the flowers and their colours. The smell of them, the feeling of their soft petals beneath my fingers were strangely comforting.
I enjoyed it most at night. Everything seemed to have came alive at that time. The flowers would somewhat glow under the moonlight. All the plants here has at least one memory of me. For example, the roses from when I pricked my finger on the thorns that protects it. Almost like my father does for me. It was so beautiful that I wanted to pick it, unknowing that by doing so, I would kill it.
Just like the world.
Ironic how much a simple flower relates so much to life. The most beautiful ones are plucked and set on display until they inevitably die. The ones that are overlooked live longer, yet ignored. However, the ones that are overlooked blossom into something majestic and eventually outshine the ones that were once the most beautiful.
Eventually, more people will come to admire their unique beauty.
And then they are plucked.
They will replace the others and be put on display until people are tired of them. The cycle of plucking, displaying and replacing, never ends. At some point they are tossed away all together because they have lost everything that made them so enchanting. Everything that made them unique and alive. Natural beauty now completely disregarded.
They are replaced with material things that only the richest can buy. No longer for everyone but for the person who can afford it. Luxurious material will now be admired by limited pairs of eyes because they are the ones who deem themselves worthy of seeing the false beauty.
It's depressing really.
But that is the burden and gift we call life.
I swing my feet, kicking them to go higher in the air as I swing back and forth. "How come you don't have any dogs if you love them so much?" I ask, trying to make small talk to escape the silence. She shrugs. "I was too scared to ask." I guess that's understandable. In this house, you have to earn things you want, that aren't basic need such as, food, care and education. Affection is something we get with accomplishments.
Papa can be a very terrifying when he needs to be. Not that he isn't already. I have watched him burn a man alive because he didn't pay his debt... in front of his wife and children. He warned that if they didn't find a way to pay up, the children would have to be trained as warriors and work for him until they could pay off the debt or the wife would become... an entertainer, to put it nicely.
Luckily, the wife had a friend who paid off their debt. I have never seen a family so relieved to the point where they shed tears of joy that whoever is above had mercy upon them.
We are no different.
He would not hesitate to have us physically disciplined if we were to disappoint him. Well my siblings, not me. My punishments were different. It was all about psychological pain for me. The mental scars never truly goes away while physical ones fades overtime.
There is a reason why I'm a great assassin. I never miss. The cause for that was, for every shot I missed one of my siblings would be beaten and I'd have to watch. It was that or he would have me up for hours perfecting my aim, bullet after bullet, knife after knife, target after target. My arms would be so sore and ache for so long that I couldn't move from my bed for hours. His lesson to me, was that if I ever were to miss an important target then the people I love would be in danger. I could be the cause of something catastrophic to my family.
So I never missed.
Ever.
Losing my family over a missed target is not a mistake I will ever make.
His exact words after every punishment were, "This is for your own good. The world we live in is cruel and unjust. Expect pain and learn to endure it, even love it. It will make you stronger in the end, for the world is corrupt and will not separate the innocent from the guilty as it destroys everything and everyone without mercy."
The part that made it all worth it, is that it worked. I cried the first time I was shot, but after years of training, it became a sting that my body was accustomed to. Almost like eating hot food and burning your tongue if you didn't allow it to cool.
When getting punished we were not allowed to show our pain. "Soldiers do not feel, only follow orders." He said. We just had to take it without emotions. At first it was impossible. How could a child get hit and not cry? How could a teenager get wounded without wincing? It's simple really, they don't. At least, others didn't. Us? It would be as unspeakable as Adam and Eve eating the forbidden fruit.
If his eyes caught even a flicker of pain, we would be punished so brutally and continuously until we were numb to it.
Or unconscious.
Whichever came first.
As strange as it sounds, that is how he shows he cares. After every punishment, we would be cared for and nursed back to health before going back into training. He would talk to us individually to tell us that even though he may come across as cruel, he is doing it out of love. If he didn't care, he would send us into battle to be slaughtered like cattle. However, by training us, we are strong enough to take down anything that is thrown in our way.
"Do you think that we would ever be allowed relationships of our choosing?" Mist asks, her voice just above a whisper. I never really thought of that. I'm not one for relationships. Commitment is something that I'm not that interested in. Plus, I'm still young, I have no reason to want to tie myself down.
"I think, that's wishful thinking. If Papa doesn't approve, then he will kill them, or worse have you do it. Maybe, if he accepts the fact that we can't stay his little girls forever, then maybe, but I wouldn't hold my breath on it. He only allows "hook-ups" because he knows that nothing will ever grow from it." I say, brutally bursting her bubble.
She looks down at her shoes, nodding in acceptance. Her eyes fill to the brim with unspilt emotions as her bottom lip slightly trembles before she sucks it between her teeth. Her breath as shaky as the quaking of an earthquake as she tries to compose herself.
I kind of feel bad for her. She might be older but she has always been naive. Mist had always been in love with the idea of being in love. My eyes always caught on the way hers would shimmer when talking about finding the love of her life. Or her smile over the simplest things like two butterflies on the same flower.
Maybe if she was born into a different family, it would have been possible but realistically, she doesn't have a chance. Not unless Papa allows it.
We sit in silence, staring up at the sky, silently praying to God for some sort of answer.
As though my dogs felt her change in mood, they walk up to her, resting their head on her lap, looking up at her with big eyes that ask "What's wrong?". She smiles softly, petting their head. "Who needs a boyfriend when I have you." She scratches behind their ear and they wag their tails in delight. Mist can fool herself but not me. Changing something she yearns for, is something she can not do, I know it and deep down, so does she.
"We have about ten minutes before dinner. We better get going. Papa hates tardiness with a burning passion and I don't feel like missing dinner today." I got up from the swing, groaning as I feeling my joints shift with every movement. She is still sat down. "What's up?" I put my left hand on my hip, putting my weight on my left leg, pointing at her sitting position with my other hand. "Just feel super lazy all of a sudden." She slouches slightly.
"Okay," I grab her forearms and pull her up.
She pouts.
"Don't pout at me. Papa will have our asses and our dinner, if we are not in the dining room before eight o' clock" I drag her back inside by her forearm. Once I get through the door, I release her. "Walk." I point in the direction of the dining room. She sighs, dragging her feet along the polished tiles, making a high pitched squeaking noise. I groan dramatically covering my ears. Mist laughs and begins to walks at a normal speed, no longer dragging her feet. "Thank you." I exasperate.
We walk into the dining room in silence and sit down. As usual, Papa sits at the head of the unnecessarily long dining table with Mama on his right.
His jet black hair, is highlighted with dozens of grey hairs. His light brown skin, pale with age. He is wearing a black button up shirt with black trousers, a belt around it and polished dress shoes. Though he might be old but the hard work he did on his body years ago, shows, reversing dozens of ageing features but the lines that crease on his forehead. He stares intently at the Rolex on his wrist, counting down the time for who is going to be late to dinner. His cold sea green eyes darting between his watch and the staircase.
Papa is 51 years old and Mama is 50 years old. Blade was born when she was 24, then Mist at 25 years old. The twins, Lucian and Flame at 27, then Winter at 28 and finally me at 29.
Yes, my parents were very active in their prime.
Mama has chestnut brown hair is decorated with silver streaks of time, that is curled tightly and stops below her shoulders. Hazel eyes adorned with golden features. Her golden brown complexion has lightened from the lack of sunlight, because I honestly don't know the last time she went outside longer that a few minutes. Her pale pink lips are covered in bold red lipstick. She has on a black dress that stops below her knees and black pumps. The outfit does justice to her thin figure. As usual, she wears an excessive amount of jewellery, for no reason.
Mama likes the finer things in life. She was not actually in love with Papa when they got married, it was a business marriage but then fell in love with him over time. Apparently, time allowed them to grow together and some other sappy stuff. I call bullshit. She fell in love with his money first. But that doesn't matter because even though she has the money, she never resented us. Not even once. She can be sickly sweet, almost fake at times but we look past it.
"You're early, Peaches." She smiles at us with her pearly whit teeth.
We just nod because we have no idea how to respond to that. What should we say? "Yeah, it's either this or skip dinner and get a shit ton of paperwork to do on top of it".
Umm, yeah, no.
I just noticed that Winter was also in here because she was so quiet... and I've also master ignoring her presence to the point that I will literally not notice she is standing next to me. I am always happy for how long this table is so that we have distance between us by skipping a few chairs. She is sitting on Papa's left, as usual, staring at her french tip nails.
Her hair is wavy, black and adorned with a few red streaks of rebellion because she wanted to be 'unique' meaning she wanted attention, Papa's attention specifically. She got it. He was infuriated. His cold eyes pierced into her soul and he made her do days of paper work as punishment.
Her eyes are hazel with mostly green features are protected by thick black lashes that has, added simple eyelash extensions. They are not to obvious but still noticeable to give her eyes more attention. Her medium tan skin without freckles or any spots for that matter. Defined cheekbones and full pouty lips.
Winter has on a very short, sparkly, tight, dark green dress with thin straps, that exposes a lot of cleavage and shows of her curvy figure with black strap on heels. She looks like she's about to seduce someone.
That or pole dancing.
"Take a picture, it will last longer." She mouths at me, so that Papa wouldn't catch her being rude to me. "Why would I bestow such a curse upon my phone?" I ask out loud. Papa looks up at me with a confused expression,"Pardon?" "Oh, I was just thinking out loud. Sorry Papa." I smile politely. He nods sceptically.
2 minutes left.
Blade comes into the room, walking with his hands in his pockets and sits next to me. I lean towards him. "Why are you sitting here?" I whisper to him. "Better you than Mama. Apparently, she's in a bad mood. I'd rather take my chances with you." He whispers back. I nod, laughing.
He doesn't really like Mama when she's mad because she has a tendency to start ranting and telling us about 'back in her day'. It would normally be along the lines of, "Back in my day, children had respect for their parents. Oh, how things have changed," and blah, blah, blah. I would normally just tune her out immediately after the first four words.
Only 50 seconds left, Lucian and Flame are not here yet, meaning Papa is going to send them back to their rooms without dinner and tons of paper work to do if they don't get here on time.
22 seconds.
For some reason, I'm starting to get nervous for them. Papa has little, to no tolerance for late people, not even if it's his own children. In his opinion, be on time or don't show up at all. Blade is staring at the staircase, biting on the knuckle of his thumb, a nervous habit of his. Mist is tapping her nail on the table as her breathing audibly speeds up in time with her taps and my leg won't stop bouncing vigorously as I fold my arms to hide my sweaty palms.
14 seconds.
We hear them running down the stairs at the speed of light, their feet thumping against each step, causing the sound to echo.
9 seconds.
They run through the dining room, dodging vases and other expensive displays.
3 seconds.
They aggressively pull their chairs. The sound of the wood dragging across the floor assaults my ears.
2 seconds.
They sit down, thrusting themselves forward towards the table, recreating the dreadful screeching noise of the chairs, causing my eye to twitch and my jaw to clench.
1 second.
BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
The timer on Papa's watch goes off after they sit.
My heart is racing in my chest and I release a sigh of relief, unintentionally worried for them.
The twins are often fashionably late to the table but today they barely made it in time for dinner. Furtunately, luck is on their side today.
Lucian has got on ripped jeans and a black t-shirt with a white skull head on it, black and white trainers. Hugo Boss fragrance, dances up my nostrils. He has on a few rings on his fingers and an Apple Watch on his wrist. His has a golden brown skin tone with freckles across his nose and scattered across his cheeks. Bright green eyes with thick lashes.
At first, we didn't know how the twins got bright green eyes until Papa said that they might have gotten them from Nonna, who has bright green eyes. He inherited Papa's jet black hair, which is faded at the front, sides and around the back of his head, with long perm curls in the middle area of his head. His jaw is perfectly sharp and he is very proud of it, with no facial hair growing from it. Plump pink lips.
Flame is wearing a black Nike hoodie with shorts and Nike socks with trainers. I can smell the Armani cologne from here, burning my nostrils. His jet black hair is similarly cut but the front isn't faded and his naturally wavy hair falls onto his forehead. He has only a few freckles on his face, mostly on his cheeks but still enough to be noticeable. The same golden brown complexion as Lucian, however, he has slightly darker eyes. His face, unlike his brother his slightly chiselled, the same plump lips.
Let's just say we have good genes.
The twins have a very detailed Yin and Yang tattoo on the back of their hand. Flames has Yin, with a sun above water on the inside and Lucian has Yang, which a crescent moon over a forest. They thought that as twins, if they got tattoos, it should match. At first I thought it was lame but after I thought about the deeper meaning, I admired it. Them being halves of the same whole, resembling each other however, completely different.
They look absolutely terrified for their lives when the alarm went off. "Just one second before you had to starve and leave without dinner." Winter laughs at them. They glare at her, their jaws clenching at the same time. "Let's not argue around the table, Winter." Papa deflates the tension in the room. "Yes, sir." She nods, like an 'obedient' daughter. I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes.
I can't help myself from being irritated when she acts like the perfect child and practically worships the ground Papa walks on. I kind of feel bad for Flame because he's sitting next to her but also next to Mist, so it's not that bad. Lucian is sitting between Blade and Mama. The rest of the chairs are empty.
We sit in silence, waiting for the sound of a soft bell.
RING!
Immediately the help comes in, each with a different plate of food and champagne. The champagne is poured into a glasses for each of us and left on the table for whoever wants more. After all the food is placed, they leave.
The air is graced with the smell of drool worthy fragrances from heaven.
Each of us has an empty plate with a fork on the left and a knife on the right. Beside it is a wine glass that is filled with expensive champagne. Lined out in front of us, is roast chicken, potatoes, mixed vegetable, bread rolls, gravy etc.
No one makes a move to touch anything.
Dining rule number one...
The head of the house gets served first.