Matched to the Mafia (Seeking Curves)

“I… I—”

“Shhh,” I cut him off and turned to one of the men who stood behind me. I gestured to the table beside him, to one of the many rusty tools that lay on top. They were my instruments, and I was their surgeon.

“The Family deals in the same—”

I snapped my head in his direction and growled so low, baring my teeth, that everything else in the room stilled. Mario straightened, leaning as far back as he could as he felt the violence and danger pouring off me. “We don’t do that, Mario.” I took a step closer, and another one until the coppery scent of what pumped through his veins filled my nose and made my bloodlust rise. “We don’t traffic minors. We don’t sell young girls. We, The Family, don’t. Fucking. Do. That.”

There were low murmurs that filled the room from my soldiers, their anger starting to rise, too. The mafia, The Family, were brutal savages in every sense of the word. We had a hand in prostitution, but the women who worked for us did so of their own free will. We didn’t kidnap, we didn’t force, and we sure as fuck didn’t deal with children in any capacity.

Someone stepped beside me, and I didn’t look at who it was, just held out my hand. I felt the heavy, cold tool in my palm, and I curled my fingers around it, the metal warming the longer I held it.

“Of course you would have been killed for giving information to our enemies, but now, because of your depraved and sick acts that you participated in, I’ll make sure your death is as slow as possible and that you’re begging for me to end your life by the end of all of this. And the sex ring you worked with?” I took a slow step toward him. “It’s been dismantled and every piece of shit taken care of.” Although, sadly, I hadn’t participated in that pleasure of taking those sick fucks out, I was pleased that their deaths had been slow, agonizing, and by the end of it, they’d been begging for mercy. Of course they hadn’t gotten it.

I lifted up the tool and showed him the pliers. Mario started crying, hard, wracking sobs shaking his body, and I laughed low. “Crying just makes me want to do this even more than I already do, Mario.” I turned the tool in my hand, the metal old and worn, rusted and aged. “First, I think I’ll slowly rip off your finger- and toenails.” I felt adrenaline move through me as I turned back to him, no doubt a sadistic gleam in my eyes. “Then I’m going to work on ripping your balls off, Mario.”

And as I got to work on him, I made sure to keep any and all thoughts of Bianca out of my head. Her pure and perfect image had no place in the ugly, brutal world I lived in. She might know who and what I was, but I’d never let her see the darker parts. She’d never know these parts of me.

I was a monster, and she was my angel.

10

Bianca

My eyes felt massive as I leaned forward and stared out Enzo’s windshield, the front of the massive brick building that housed Static seeming a little imposing. There was a long line stretching down the side of the building and curved around the back, and the bright neon sign was situated above twin red doors with a beefy-ass bouncer standing guard in front.

Enzo pulled up to the curb right in front of the entrance, left the car running, and before I knew what was happening, my door was opened, and a young man dressed in a black shirt that said Staff stepped to the side to let me out. Enzo was already out and walking around the hood of the car as I slid out of the passenger seat and stood, smoothing my hands down the faux leather skirt I’d chosen to wear tonight.

Enzo was by my side and holding a hand out. I slipped my fingers along his warm, big palm, and he instantly curled his around mine and pulled me to his side. The door was shut behind me, and I didn't miss how Enzo slid folded-up bills into the attendant's hand. The young man nodded his thanks and hurried to the driver side, slipping into the seat and pulling the car away from the curb to park.

I was led toward the front doors and glanced at the long line of people waiting to get in. Some showed their awe, others holding pissed expressions because clearly we wouldn’t have to wait like they did. I focused ahead just as the bouncer nodded in respect toward Enzo, stepped aside, and pulled free the thick velvet rope that blocked entry in an aesthetic sense.