Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE

by Veronica Lancet

  "Thank you," Gianna mentions a while later as I'm watching her put on make-up for the evening. "Michele really looks up to you, you know," she sighs. "He doesn't tell me everything, but I think they're bullying him at school. Otherwise where would he have gotten those ideas?"

  "He's a strong lad. He's going to be fine," I assure her.

  He may be quiet and often blend in with the background, but there's a quiet strength to him. You don't survive what he has, and at such a young age at that, without having inner strength.

  "You can be very sweet when you're not surly," she says cheekily as she finishes adding the last touches to her make-up.

  "Well, enjoy my non-surliness for now, because once we're at that party I'll be glowering at every man who comes near you," I retort playfully. Little does she know I'll probably be doing more than that.

  This time her attendance at the party had been requested by Benedicto himself, since he is about to close a deal with the hosts.

  I keep my distance as Gianna plasters on a fake smile and enters the venue on her father's arm. Benedicto looks smug as he leads both Gianna and his wife inside.

  Everyone is already staring at their entrance, especially as they eyes zero in on Gianna in her glamorous golden dress. It complements her blonde hair perfectly and makes her look like a goddess.

  And as I see more than one fool salivate after her, I can barely stop myself from dragging them in the middle of the floor to beat them to a pulp in a big display to show that she's off the market.

  But I can't. Not yet.

  It's becoming increasingly hard to pretend I'm just her bodyguard. To pretend like I have no right to intervene when any of these fools try to fuck her with their eyes.

  Fuck, it's becoming increasingly hard not to act according to my nature—kill every single one of these idiots for even being in the same room as her.

  Soon, her friends demand her attention and with a sad smile, she follows them to the other end of the room.

  I make to follow, but Benedicto stops me.

  "Don't think I don't see how you look at my daughter," he scowls.

  Ignoring the tick in my jaw for the mere fact that he dares call her his daughter when he's never treated her as such, I force myself to reply.

  "How so?"

  "Like you want to fuck her," he pauses, "or you've already fucked her." He shrugs, as if he couldn't care less. "I know she has that effect on men, but I won't let anyone jeopardize my deal with Clark. Not you of all people," he sneers at me.

  "There's nothing going on between me and your daughter, sir," the words burn on my tongue as I say them, as well as the tone of subservience I'm forced to adopt.

  But I grit my teeth and keep myself in check.

  "Keep it that way. Otherwise I won't be so kind."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "It's a promise, boy. You may be a tough guy, but I'll make it so that your body is never found," he smiles arrogantly.

  "Right. Understood," I literally have to pinch myself to get the words out of my mouth, my body rebelling at the very action.

  Why didn't Cisco ask me to kill Benedicto instead? It would have been so much easier...

  "I'm glad we understand each other," he smirks, patting me on the back before joining his wife at the refreshment table.

  The act that Benedicto has been putting for the world never fails to surprise me. In public, he shows himself to be a devoted father who would do anything to spoil his daughter. More than that, he shows himself as a man willing to give his daughter any luxury and whatever her heart desires. It had certainly fooled Cisco and the others into thinking Gianna is his weakness when she's nothing but a pawn.

  But I've seen the other side of him—the one that's been secretly hoping she'd find herself a rich husband at these parties, forcing her to attend and essentially thrusting her into the role of the perfect society girl. It had certainly helped him find business partners and investors over the years.

  I'm starting to realize that Benedicto doesn't care about anyone other than himself—the supposed love of his life included.

  As my eyes search for Gianna, I'm surprised to see that she and her friends have disappeared from the main floor, and it takes me a while to meet with her again.

  She's giggly and entirely too drunk—just as her other friends—and as I tug her to my side, it's to have her pass out on me.

  Not one to despair, I simply inform Benedicto of what had transpired and I take Gianna home, tucking her in bed and waiting by her side in case she gets ill.

  Damn, when did she have time to drink so much to get wasted?

  I thought all my inquiries had gone under the radar. But when I get a call from Cisco asking me to meet him urgently, I have to ask myself if I slipped.

  There's no way...

  I'd covered my tracks perfectly, and I'd reached out to people outside of the family's sphere of influence. There's absolutely no way Cisco would have eyes and ears everywhere.

  For fuck's sake, he's only been at the helm of the famiglia for a few years. For a young don, that's hardly enough time to make lasting connections or get people's respect. Still, there's no denying that Cisco has a certain intelligence and cunning to him that would give him an advantage over most.

  And I am to find out just how much when he greets me in his cold manner, his shrewd eyes seemingly seeing everything.

  "Uncle," he greets.

  I nod, taking a seat across from his office and waiting to see what was so important that he'd call me here in person.

  "What was so urgent you couldn't tell me on the phone?" I ask directly.

  "Damn, Bass. There's no beating around the bush with you, is it?" he chuckles, his fingers playing with the silver necklace around his neck.

  "Cut to the chase."

  "If you say so," he shrugs, a lazy smile still on his lips as he regards me. "I wanted to know how your little mission is going," he raises an eyebrow.

  "Better than your attempt on Benedicto's life," I throw, watching his lips stretch wider across his face.

  "Hmm," he hums, opening the drawer and taking out a pack of cigarettes. Lighting one up, he maintains the silence a moment longer, and I'm forced to admit that Cisco is not the same person I used to know. "Not mine if you want to know."

  I frown, tilting my head to the side and waiting for him to continue.

  "Dario's got it in his head that he needs my approval," he rolls his eyes. "Do you really think I'd be so stupid to try to kill him with a bomb?" He almost looks disgusted at the thought. "Safe to say he's not allowed to handle any type of weapons for the foreseeable future. I swear that boy was born with one neuron and even that one is half dead," he shakes his head.

  "Right," I grunt, narrowing my eyes at him. It does make sense that Cisco wouldn't go for something as paltry as a bomb, but I feel there's more to the story than he's letting on.

  "Alas, that's not why I called you here. I thought that maybe you need a little more motivation to see this through—and fast. The engagement is in a week, is it not?" he raises an eyebrow. "A perfect occasion for ruination. Why, everyone will be able to witness the ruination. And by all accounts," he pauses, giving me a sharp look, "you've already succeeded with the seduction stage."

  I press my lips in a thin line trying not to show my surprise at his words. And not for the first time, I have to wonder how he knows this.

  "It's working," I shrug, trying to seem blasé.

  It's better if he thinks I'm indifferent towards Gianna. That way, he won't suspect my commitment to the cause.

  "But it's working slowly," he sighs. "That's why, I thought I'd show you a little something."

  "What?"

  A confident smile on his face, he pushes an envelope towards me. Opening it up, I realize I'm looking at the profiles of the men who'd held me down and cut my face. I go through each one of them, noting they had all been freed soon after they'd attacked me.

  "Why?" I meet his gaze. "Why are you showing me t
his?"

  "Why?" he chuckles. "I thought you'd want your revenge," he leans back in his seat, continuing to smoke. And as he sees my ground jaw and the tension in my expression, he pushes the pack towards me, urging me to bum one.

  "And what does this have to do with Guerra?" I ask the more glaring question.

  "Ah, good on you to notice. You see, I did some digging, and all of those men," he points at the sheets in my hand, "are connected to a certain Franco Guerra."

  "Benedicto's brother."

  "Indeed. So you can see how the dots connect."

  "But it doesn't make sense," I frown. "Why would they hire me if they knew who I was?"

  "Did they though?" Cisco inquires. "They only needed to know a DeVille was in prison to order an attack. You know how it is," he waves his hand. "Besides, you were rather infamous in that prison. Was there even one person who didn't know who you were?"

  "No," I grit my teeth. It's true that everyone had known I was the enemy on the inside and they'd certainly behaved as such.

  Still, I see what Cisco is trying to do. He's trying to get me to act faster and more viciously. If he thinks I have a personal stake in this, then he assumes I'll go harder on the Guerras.

  And though I will, at some point, my personal revenge has to wait until everything else is secure.

  "Thanks for the heads up," I nod. "I'll use these wisely," I smirk at him, holding up the papers and getting up to leave.

  He must have noticed that I hadn't been too affected by the news, so what he says next does stop me in my tracks.

  "Mr. and Mrs. Chadwick," he says, satisfaction dripping from him when I turn around and level him with my stare.

  Our fake identities.

  "I didn't want it to come to this," he sighs. "I really thought you'd be more sensible, Bass. That's why I sent you on this mission. I knew you could never fall for someone like Gianna. She's too much like your mother," he drawls, rising up from his chair and pacing across the room.

  "I was so sure you were the perfect choice because only you would be indifferent to her charms, all things considered. But you weren't, were you?"

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Yes. You do. And I'm sorry to say that you've been duped. Really uncle, I thought you'd be more discerning than to believe whatever sob story she told you. Let me guess, she said that people are jealous of her and that's why they spread the rumors, didn't she?" He smirks.

  I don't reply, I simply narrow my eyes at him waiting for him to say his piece.

  "I see that she did. What else? Oh, that she's afraid of her fiancé? What's his name? Clark Goode?"

  "Where are you getting with this, Cisco?" I can barely contain the anger that rolls off me.

  "Did she also tell you she fucked him?"

  I clench my fists at his words. I don't think I'd make it out alive if I were to kill the head of the family—all things considered too.

  "He's a goddamn pervert," I grit my teeth.

  "Right," he laughs. "That's what she told you." He makes a tsk sound as he leans against his desk, putting the cigarette out in an ashtray nearby. "Let me enlighten you, uncle. She fucked him. Two years ago. In a public bathroom, nonetheless. You should ask her. Even she can't lie about that when everyone knows. They caught them together, you know."

  His brows shoot up in a challenge as he all but shoves his phone in my face, a picture of two people naked on the screen. I do my best not to look, but I feel a pang in my chest as I recognize Gianna’s features and her honey blonde hair.

  Schooling my features, I try not to show how much this affects me, or how the thought of Gianna with anyone else makes me want to go on a rampage. But when I'd faced my feelings for her I'd decided not to hold her past against her. Especially not in this case, since it's clear who the guilty party is. If anything, I feel even worse for Gianna and the fact that she had to go through that—or that evidence of it was circulating online for everyone to see.

  "Two years ago she was sixteen, Cisco. And he's Benedicto's age. That only tells me he fucking took advantage of her." I tell him, my voice firm.

  "What about a few days ago?" He raises an eyebrow, a perfidious smile playing at his lips.

  "What do you mean?" My breath catches in my throat at his insinuation.

  "Damn it, uncle, but I didn't think she'd play you like this," he purses his lips, shaking his head.

  Without another word, he turns his computer screen towards me, clicking on a video.

  "Watch and tell me you'd risk your family for a whore," he sighs in disappointment, moving aside to let me watch whatever clip he has on.

  I'm skeptical in the beginning, but it soon becomes clear when the video was taken.

  Frozen to the spot, I can only watch the sequences as they roll on video, almost unable to believe this is Gianna.

  My Gianna.

  The video starts with her and her friends at the party we'd attended with Benedicto a few days ago. The golden dress she's wearing is proof enough of that.

  I recognize the layout of the venue where the event had taken place, and I realize this is somewhere on the top levels, where there were actual rooms.

  They are all talking and passing around drinks, joking about guys.

  Gianna seems to be enjoying herself, and it's like I'm seeing her for the first time—so carefree and happy.

  At some point, one of her friends spreads some lines of coke, and all of them do one each.

  It's also becoming increasingly clear that the footage had been filmed with a hidden camera somewhere in the room.

  I continue to watch them talk shit about everyone, and it's like this is an entirely different version from the Gianna I know—or the one she led me to believe she was.

  Suddenly her friends are gone, and Gianna is sitting alone on the bed. The door to the room opens and a man comes inside. He's wearing a tux like all the other guests had, but I don't think I've seen him before—and I know most of her friends.

  He looks to be in his twenties, with a handsome face and fit body.

  "There you are," he drawls, his eyes roving all over her body, a smirk pulling at his lips.

  "You're here," she breathes out, the sound almost muffled. Her hands go to the fastening of her dress as she's impatiently trying to remove it.

  "You're so fucking hot," he shakes his head at her, looking her up and down with a satisfied smile. He takes his blazer off, folding it neatly and placing it on the back of a chair.

  Slurring, she says something I can't quite make out, but it's definitely something the man approves of, because he's palming himself through his trousers. Though the light in the room is dim at best, I can still see the way she's also looking at him, her lip between her teeth as she gives off a fuck me vibe.

  He grabs her roughly by the throat for a bruising kiss before shifting her around so that she's lying on her belly. Lifting her dress over her ass he all but rips her panties out of the way as he starts fingering her.

  I already feel sick to my stomach as I know what's going to happen. But I need to force myself to watch. I need to know she took the betrayal to the point of no return.

  He quickly undoes his pants, lowering his zipper and taking his dick out. He impales her in one thrust—bare. He's fucking her raw.

  Somehow that feels like an even worse punch to the gut, and I barely hold myself still as my knees feel wobbly, my chest constricting in a painful squeeze.

  He starts fucking her. Moans fill the room—his and hers.

  Fuck, but I don't think I can watch or listen to this. Not when I feel like puking my guts out, a visceral feeling enveloping my entire body and seemingly making my organs stop.

  Making one organ stop.

  And as I continue to watch Gianna, my Gianna, get fucked by a random man, I can't help but feel my soul quake with unprecedented anguish.

  But she's not my Gianna. She never was.

  I can only close myself off, knowing that I'll be driven to madness if I
allow the enormity of what I'm seeing take root. I'll truly lose it if I let my feelings take control of me.

  And the worst thing? She's enjoying it.

  "Harder," she cries out at some point, and I feel my heart squeeze tightly in my chest.

  "She looks like a good lay," Cisco comments when Gianna gets to her knees, sucking the man off. "Did you at least fuck her?" He asks flippantly.

  I can only shake my head, my eyes fixed on the video still playing, my heart breaking piece by piece.

  "I'm sorry, Bass," Cisco adds, patting me on the back. "I told you that the rumors weren't unfounded. And you know I have my sources," he adds and I nod, almost absentmindedly.

  Because he had. He'd told me all there was to know about her. But I hadn't listened. Instead, I'd let myself be played by her. By that innocent bat of her lashes, or the few glimpses beneath the mask that I assumed were insights into who she really was.

  "Damn," he curses. "Well," he pauses, his eyes on the screen as the man continues to fuck Gianna until he comes inside her. "You still have your chance," he says.

  I do, don't I?

  The video ends with the man leaving the room and Gianna wiping the cum from between her legs, trying to put herself together to rejoin the party.

  And to think I'd held her in my arms that night. I'd stayed by her side the entire time she'd been ill from the alcohol.

  An ironic laughter bubbles inside of me.

  I'd been tending to that man's leftovers. Because that's the truth, isn't it? He's good enough to fuck, but I'm only good enough as her servant.

  As all our interactions play in my mind, I can't help my feelings from threatening to burst to the surface—love, lust, anger, loathing—but most of all a gut-wrenching disappointment that obliterates what all that was left of my heart. Everything is mixed together in an awful combination that only makes me more bent on destruction.

  Her destruction.

  Suddenly it makes sense why she'd always seem hesitant when we're together, or how she'd stop things before they went too far.

  I disgust her.

  I have since the beginning, only she managed to fool me with her acting. She'd managed to convince me she desired me. I have to wonder how hard it must have been for her to bear my touch when she's clearly repulsed by it.