Frivolous: A DARK MAFIA AGE-GAP ROMANCE

by Veronica Lancet

  I'm once more in and out of consciousness. I'm vaguely aware of Benedicto paying me a visit and promising me he's going to send my head to Cisco as a present after he's done with me. Of course, as if Cisco would care.

  He'd gone through so much trouble to make sure his plan worked, and it had. He must be gloating at the success.

  Defile. Debase. Destroy.

  Why, I'd fulfilled each of his orders. But I hadn't done that only to Gianna, I'd done that to myself too. Because there's nothing worse than knowing I forced a girl to blow me, or that I broadcast a video of me fucking her to the entire world. Her destruction had been my destruction.

  I'd known the moment I'd seen the blood on her thighs, the implications slowly entering my mind and making me realize what I'd done—that I'd ruined the only good thing in my life with my own two hands. I'd known right then and there that there was no other fate for me than death. So I hadn't resisted when they'd come for me. Hell, I'd wished they would have just pummeled away, hoping physical pain would alleviate the spiritual one.

  But it hadn't.

  Nothing could.

  I'd let my jealousy fester into something so ugly, I'd ended up destroying everything.

  Because that's the only reason I'd been willing to do Cisco's bidding.

  Even now, knowing the video must be fake, the memory of it is enough to get a rise out of me—shackled as I am.

  The sight of her fucking another man when she should have been mine had been my undoing. And I'd let myself go. I'd let myself fucking sink.

  And there's no excuse.

  I jump up, startled, the barbed wire cutting deep in my wrists and ankles. Water splatters all over my face, washing away some of the blood already caked around my many wounds.

  But as I open my eyes, it's to come face to face with a vision—or at least it seems so. Because why would Gianna Guerra be standing in front of me right now, if she's not a figment of my imagination?

  "You're awake," she nods thoughtfully, turning her back to me to pick up another glass of water, dumping it all over my face again.

  The liquid also helps with my sight and I'm able to see her better as she plops herself in front of me, her features exquisite as always, but emotionless.

  "What..." I croak, my throat dry, my voice hoarse from unuse. "What are you doing here?" I ask again, this time managing to get the words out.

  She looks me up and down, and she doesn't seem particularly impressed by the state I'm in. If anything, she looks bored.

  And it's breaking my heart.

  Maybe she's here to kill me. Put me out of my misery herself. It would be her right to do so, and for all that's saint and pure, the thought of being dispatched by her would actually warm my already dead heart. Because then I'd have paid at least a fraction of my dues to her.

  "I see they took care of you," she purses her lips.

  There's nothing in her expression to suggest she's happy, or sad at the state I'm in. If anything, her apathy is even more disconcerting because I fear I may have broken her—for good this time.

  "What are you doing here?" I repeat, and she raises her eyes to look at me.

  "I know they're going to kill you," she says blatantly. "I didn't come here to gloat, if that's what you're thinking. Although," she pauses, her gaze studying my wounds, "I'm happy to see you suffering as you deserve." She shrugs, as if she didn't just confess her love to me a few days ago, and now she's looking at me as if I were a mere stranger—a stranger she would rather see dead.

  "Then why?"

  "You don't have much longer," she continues. "Not with the state you're in. A day? Maybe two if you're lucky. Though those must hurt like a bitch," a smile plays at her lips, the first sign of anything other than apathy on her face.

  "Why are you here, Gianna?" My tone is rather brusque, the total opposite of what I'm feeling for seeing her one last time.

  I must have done something right in a past life seeing that I'm blessed with seeing the woman I love once more before dying. Although the joy is immense at seeing her again, I can't help but hurt all over as I take in her features.

  She's pale, her skin sallow. She's wearing a pink dress that's entirely too big for her, the wide fit masking her figure.

  She doesn't look good. She looks anything but good. And that makes me die a little at that very moment.

  Because I did that to her.

  "I want to know why." She straightens her back, pushing her chin up as she gazes at me unflinchingly. "Why me? Why..." She pauses, shaking her head. "Why did you have to do that? Was anything real?" The questions pour out of her, and I note the confusion in her eyes.

  For as much as she'd like to look unbothered, she's not.

  "I..." I don't even know what to tell her. I could excuse myself all day long, but the truth is that I am guilty.

  "It was all supposed to be a revenge plan," I start, telling her about my bargain with Cisco. "He'd just gotten me out of jail, and this was my payback."

  "Jail?" Her brows shoot up in surprise.

  I nod, or at least try to. My neck is too stiff for that type of movement.

  "I got caught killing someone," I add jokingly, cracking a smile. But she doesn't laugh. If anything, she frowns more.

  "Go on."

  "The mission was to ensure you wouldn't be able to marry anyone," I proceed to recount Cisco's plan and how he'd wanted to keep Benedicto bankrupt for as long as he could.

  "I see. So that's why you approached me," she nods thoughtfully.

  "But things changed." I state grimly. I don't want to throw myself a pity party, but I don't want her to believe that what we shared—or at least part—was fake.

  Her eyes widen as she tilts her head to look at me, waiting for me to continue.

  "I started seeing you in a different light." I swallow deeply. "I fell in love with you," I admit, and if the circumstances had been different, I would have loved the expression on her face—shock and pleasure mixed in one.

  "How can I believe you?" She whispers the question, and it hurts that I put us in this position, where even the truth is seen as a lie.

  "Everything was real. I even got us fake identities," I give a dry laugh.

  "Then why? Why would you do something like that to me? Why, Bass?"

  "I'm not going to excuse my actions in any way, sunshine." She flinches when she hears the pet name, and the taste of bile inundates my mouth at her reaction.

  "Someone lied to me." I take a deep breath. "I was ready to leave my family behind—betray them. I was ready to leave everything behind for you."

  "What could they have told you that..." She shakes her head. "What you did to me, Bass... I don't think you realize that you didn't just humiliate me. You destroyed me," she says and a lone tear falls down her cheek.

  "I'm sorry," I give her a quiet apology, even though as I see her face scrunch in disgust, I know no amount of sorry is going to cut it. I blew everything.

  "Go on," she invites me to continue, seemingly getting herself under control.

  "It was a video. I realize now it must have been doctored somehow... But when I saw it, I went mad with jealousy."

  "A video?" She frowns.

  "Of you fucking someone the night you got drunk at that event," I explain and I tell her everything I'd seen in the video.

  "I don't remember everything from that night, but I would have never done that, Bass. I would have never done that to you." She shakes her head. "How could you think so little of me that I would cheat on you?"

  Even I am disgusted at myself for buying Cisco's lies.

  "The video was flawless, Gianna. But even if it wasn't... I was so angry, so fucking angry..."

  "That didn't give you the right to do that, Bass. That didn't give you the right to ruin me."

  "I know, sunshine. I know. And I'll gladly take my punishment. I just..." I sigh. Now faced with her like this, I can't even find the words to let her know how much I regret how everything turned out.

  "I
'm sorry. I know you will likely never forgive me, but I want you to know that I do regret what I did to you."

  She looks away, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

  "Did you... love me?" Her voice is barely above a whisper as she asks me, her gaze not meeting mine.

  "I did." I answer honestly. "I do."

  She nods, her hands clenched into fists by her side.

  "Thank you. For telling me." She says right before she turns. With her back to me, she stills for a moment.

  "I loved you too, Bass. Or I thought I did. Because how can you love someone you don't know?" Her profile swathed in darkness, her words cut me deeper than any blade. "You didn't love me either. Yes, you might think you did, but you only loved an idealized version as me, just as you hated the perceived one." She takes a deep breath. "You know, they say we have three great loves in our lifetimes—the fairytale love, the hard love, and the forever type of love. Maybe I'm lucky and I had the first two with you. Because you were my fairytale, Bass. You were the hero I thought was going to save me from my tower. But then you weren't." She pauses. "You turned into the villain who set fire to the tower, gladly watching me burn."

  "And I did burn," she gives a dry laugh. "Maybe I'm still burning a little. But just as you gave me happiness in the beginning, you also gave me the most important lesson."

  Spinning on her heel, she turns, coming even closer to me, those gorgeous eyes of her clear and full of strength as she stares into my pain-filled ones.

  "No one can save me but myself. I don't need a fairytale. And I don't need a hero. I only need myself. So thank you for that." A sad smile pulls at her lips.

  "Sunshine..." I croak, unable to cope with the pain in my heart.

  "And maybe in the future I'll be ready for the forever love too. Because I won't let what you did to me define me. I know that now. I'm not a whore. I never was," she raises her hand to my face, her fingers brushing against my bruised flesh. "I gave myself to you in love, or at least what I thought was love. And there's nothing to be ashamed about that. But you..." she stops, her fingers coming up coated in blood. "You should be ashamed for turning my love into something dirty."

  "It wasn't dirty. Fuck, sunshine. I know that now. It was the purest thing in the world and I..."

  She doesn't let me continue as she places her finger over my lips.

  "What's done is done."

  And with that she's gone.

  I'm dying. I know I am. I feel myself getting weaker and weaker and I can barely feel my limbs anymore. My mouth is dry, my lips chapped, my entire mind foggy as I struggle between a state of being and not being.

  Benedicto's men visit me once more, beating what's left of me, before leaving, convinced I won't make it through the night.

  I'm convinced too.

  That is until her voice makes me struggle to open my eyes.

  She's here.

  Again.

  "I have a deal for you," she says, and I can barely focus on her figure.

  "I'll let you go, and you give me the IDs you got for us," she continues.

  When she sees I'm not replying, she brings a bottle of water to my lips, wetting them and letting me drink.

  "More," I croak.

  She feeds me all the water before stepping back, assessing me with narrowed eyes.

  "Do we have a deal?" She asks, and my mind can't make sense of why she'd do something like this.

  "Why?"

  She grimaces.

  "Clark isn't dead. They got to him before the poison did its job," she says, telling me about her plan to kill him and how she'd almost succeeded. "He wants to marry me tomorrow, and I can't have that. No, I won't have that," she states determinedly.

  There's something different about her, but in my wretched state, I don't trust my perception anymore.

  "Where... where will you go?"

  She shrugs.

  "That's for me to figure out. But we need to hurry before anyone notices I'm down here."

  I want to argue. Tell her I'm not worth saving—that I'm not worth anything. But maybe helping her this time might lessen my own sins, since I'd never want her anywhere near Clark—or Benedicto for that matter.

  "What about Michele?" I ask, knowing she'd wanted to leave with her brother.

  She looks as if someone struck her when I say his name, and she slowly shakes her head.

  "He won't be coming."

  "I'll help you," I agree, knowing I'd do more than that. I'd fucking do anything for her.

  But that's neither here nor there. She needs my help and I'll give it to her. Besides, I don't know if there's anything left of me that's salvageable—both physically and mentally.

  She cuts my binds, quickly helping me clean up before ushering me towards the house and to my room where I'd carefully stashed all the paperwork.

  I hand her everything she needs before we both head downstairs to the garage.

  She's carrying a small bag that barely fits her necessities, but as I ask if that's all she's taking, I can see she's completely determined to leave everything of her old life behind.

  Hotwiring a car, I quickly drive out of the estate, surprised to see that no one's giving chase.

  "I put some sleeping pills in the guards' dinner," she says flippantly, before ignoring me for the rest of the journey.

  I'm hanging by a thread as I drive into the city, surprised I'm able to fully focus on the road. Knowing what's at stake, though, helps me push through one last time, dropping her off at the train station as she'd instructed me.

  Stopping the car, there's a moment of silence as we both stay still.

  "This is goodbye, Bass," she speaks first, not looking at me.

  I try to blink some clarity into my eyes but my sight is already leaving me. Still, as I slip out of consciousness, I think I hear her something more.

  I even think I feel her kiss my cheek.

  But she wouldn't.

  Not anymore.

  It's all just an illusion.

  "Look who's rejoined the living," I hear a voice speak.

  Opening my eyes, I bring my hand up to shield my eyes from the light, noting the bandages secured around my wrist and up my arm.

  "Where am I?" I ask, disoriented.

  "Uncle," I turn to see Dario roll his eyes at me. "Is that my thanks for taking care of you when you were at death's door?"

  "What do you mean? How did I get here? Last I remember..."

  I watched Gianna leave. For good.

  "I have no clue. Someone called me and told me there was a package waiting for me at Penn station. I couldn't help my curiosity so I went. Imagine my surprise when I find you," he laughs. "Looking like a corpse too. Really, Bass..." he shakes his head.

  "You must have heard what happened," I grunt.

  Everyone should have heard what happened at Gianna's engagement party.

  My eyes swipe across the room and I recognize the furniture.

  Cisco's home.

  "Of course. You're famous now. Or should I say notorious," he chuckles. "Everyone thinks you're a hero. Why, several of Cisco's men want to name their newborns after you for the set down you gave Guerra. One of the best," he brings his fingers to his mouth, imitating a chef's kiss.

  "Where's Cisco?" I ask, my voice strained. Because if this is his home, then it must mean the bastard's close by.

  If I am still alive, I'll just count my blessings and do the one thing I wanted to before—fucking end Cisco. I'll probably die afterwards anyway, but at least I'll know that fucker won't be able to hurt Gianna—ever.

  "He should be coming by later," Dario shrugs. "I knew you'd be surly so I brought you some magazines," he adds, dropping a few in my lap.

  "Seriously?" I roll my eyes at him, brushing the porn magazines off the bed.

  "Where's your sense of humor, uncle?" He groans.

  But I don't let him say anything more as I shoo him from the room, taking some time to ground myself.

  My body feels fine�
�all things considered. There's still some pain in my extremities, where the barbed wire had cut into my flesh, but as I go to the bathroom to inspect my face, I realize the damage had been minimal.

  The swelling must have gone down while I'd been out of it, and though I forgot to ask Dario how long that was, I can only assume it's been at least a couple of days.

  Looking around the room, I find a new phone and some toiletries laid out for me. Meanwhile, a doctor also comes by, checking in on me and congratulating me on my speedy recovery.

  Feeling stronger than I have in days, I finally go after my fucking nephew.

  "Damn, uncle, you don't look that much worse for the wear," he chuckles when I open the door to his study to find him smoking out the window—a common occurrence with Cisco.

  "Is that how you greet the hero?" I ask mockingly, closing the door behind me and advancing towards him.

  "Right," he shakes his head, "where are my manners?" He quickly disposes of his cigarette out the window, opening his arms to give me a hug.

  I don't even think as my hand shoots out, my fingers wrapping around his neck as I lay him down on his desk, sweeping all his things to the floor.

  "Damn, a little violent, aren't we?" He keeps joking, giving me a lazy look.

  Cisco isn't a fighter. He's never been one. He's always been a ruler—the one who orders others to do his bidding.

  And though our frames are of similar sizes, I know he's no match to me, even in my half dead state.

  "You knew," is all I say as I grit my teeth, my fingers squeezing at his neck. "You fucking knew."

  "What are we talking about?" He asks, feigning ignorance.

  "You knew the truth about Gianna. You knew the rumors weren't true."

  "Ah," he scoffs. "But of course," his wide smile resumes. "That's why I sent you there, didn't I? To make the rumors true."

  "Cut the crap out, Cisco."

  "Tsk, tsk, uncle. You're ruining my favorite suit, you know?" he says jokingly as he straightens his coat.

  "Why?"

  "Why not?"

  "Damn it!" I curse, banging his head on the table. "Have the decency to tell me why. Why did you doctor that video? Why do you hate Guerra so much? Why do you fucking hate me?"