GINEVRA “I feel it too, Ricardo, that heaviness in my heart. Just as intense as you do.” A declaration, one that had been made in the moment when souls danced together, one that signified the agreement that had been silently made by our hearts. One that sealed us. One that had Ricardo’s lips tipping up into a smile. An adorable smile, one which I had always longed for—a real smile. I laid there, naked and open to him, watching him with hooded eyes as he slowly. . .cautiously and eagerly mounted my body. All that kept us apart was our soft skin. I stared at him. I saw him. He stared at me. He saw me. Our heads had bobbed in unison as if to somehow grant one another permission to explore our souls. My thighs were slowly shifting apart, and although indignant, I had felt my pelvis weakening as Ricardo kissed my skin, slowly caressing me. The heat of his skin against mine, his gentle touches, everything he was willingly offering, I had been so stimulated by it all—this pleas

RICARDO To stay or to go. To agree or to disagree. To live or to die. To love or to hate. Why weren't life’s decisions made that easy? Who in their right mind thought it wise to make things too complicated than they needed to be? Now, I had to suffer those complications. To achieve one’s purpose, difficult choices were to be made—difficult choices which served your actual purpose, and some which served the selfish desires of the heart. Ginevra made that choice this morning—the choice which served her purpose. Deep within my heart’s space, I had always known what I was to Ginevra. A danger, a hindrance to her purpose, an unneeded distraction. So, I had expected her to call off whatever it was we shared, but nothing had prepared me for the pain that came with hearing her call it off. And nothing had prepared me for the stubborness in my heart. I had never cried before anyone. The first person to witness my tears was my mother, and the last to witness them too, was my mothe

GINEVRA I had slid on a black, spaghetti strapped dress which hugged my body, outlining all my curves, my nipples poking through the excuse of a dress since I was completely bare underneath. As we drove to one of my clubs, I and Abyss had conversed more deeply, with me giving them more detailed information on everything that had happened long before their arrival, and details of things which were programmed to occur in the nearest future. “We heard your underboss informing you of the gifts which were sent by a particular somebody,” Dominico wriggled his brows. “Who’s the lover boy?” “Ricardo Sanchez.” I blurted. Eyes widened. Raul leaned forward. “Ricardo Sanchez? The Ghost?” My response was a hum. “How is it even possible that you’re in a relationship with an enemy of yours? We all partook of the negative effects the war you both stirred up had caused, and now—”“Now, nothing.” I gritted. “We fucked a few times, that’s it. His gifts are just his way of showing gratitude for a

GINEVRA I sat there in the thick night, observing the mess I and Ricardo made and watching the candles burn out, all the while pouring myself one shot after another of tequila—getting wasted and pondering on what my decision would be. I had two things I wanted so badly. First, I wanted to have Ricardo killed in the most gruesome way possible. Second, I wanted to have Ricardo over at my house every other night, fucking me just the way he did a few minutes ago. One thing was certain, my choice had to be one or the other. There wasn’t anything in the world that could let me have both. So, I had to make a pick. Still, questions remained—what was my choice going to be? What choice was safer than the other? What would a head of a family do? Footsteps had begun approaching from behind me, a few voices muttering words over and over again, and some, cackling loudly. I hadn’t cared to move or be alarmed by the sudden intrusion, because I had an inclination who those people were. The on

RICARDO One hour. I had been seated here, for a whole hour, quietly listening to the jumbled words that had been spilling nonstop from my father’s mouth. Didn’t the old man get tired of talking? Gesù Cristo. “I’ve told you many times how beneficial this marriage with Theresa will turn out, but you wouldn’t listen to me because—”Fucks sake. My patience snapped. "Fuck!” I growled. “I’ve said it a million times, but if you need me to keep screaming it until you fully understand, Luigi, then listen carefully. This marriage and whatever you hope to achieve with this alliance will never work. Got it?” "Because of that whore?" Theresa scowled. My inability to act upon my anger and smack the shit out of Theresa’s mouth had taken a lot of self restraint. She had no right speaking about my woman in such a condescending tone. "You will not speak of my woman in that tone, Theresa. You might have my father by your side but that doesn't give you any right to meddle in my affairs, do you