The Mafia’s Obsession

Ayla

“Did you know she wasn’t even raised in this lifestyle?” I murmur to Belle-Ann as the bride passes us, radiating happiness. “Can you imagine willingly marrying into all this chaos?”

“Unbelievable,” my friend responds, shaking her head with a dark chuckle. “She probably has no clue what she’s signing up for.”

“Or maybe she does, and she’s just twisted.”

“Could very well be.” Belle-Ann grins mischievously. “Wanna ditch this place and find somewhere we can…” She brings her fingers to her lips, mimicking taking a puff from a joint.

I laugh. “You brought something?”

“Of course, it’s in my purse.”NôvelDrama.Org content rights.

“Thank goodness. It’s the only way to survive this nonsense. Which way should we go?”

We navigate through the crowd until we reach the orchard on the grounds of the wedding venue. Rows of apple trees provide us with ideal cover. Carefully, we walk in our heels down one of the rows until we feel it’s far enough to stop.

“At least it’s good to see you,” Belle-Ann says, pulling a dispensary pre-roll and a lighter from her purse. “How was backpacking in Europe?”

“It was incredible,” I sigh. “Just having that much freedom was eye-opening. It made me realize for the first time how restricted my upbringing was. You know, always being told what to do by my parents and expected to meet their standards. In Europe, I woke up whenever I wanted, went wherever I pleased, and even got lost a few times. I loved it. I’ve honestly been dreading this month of being stuck at home again before the semester starts.”

“I can imagine. It’s awesome that you took a gap year,” she remarks, flicking the lighter and taking a long drag. “I should have done the same. But I can’t wait for you to come to school. If you weren’t staying in the dorms, I’d suggest we be roommates.”

“Next year,” I reply, taking the joint from her. “Do you think that…” I pause, coughing heavily. “Damn, I should’ve started slow. It’s been a while since I smoked.”

She chuckles, taking the joint back. “You’ll be fine. What’s the wildest thing you did last year? I still can’t believe you didn’t lose your virginity to some hot Spanish guy or something.”

“Um, nothing too crazy, really. Maybe wore a thong on the beach in Italy?”

“You wild thing,” Belle-Ann teases, exhaling smoke. She imitates our mothers. “Now no man will want you! How will you ever find a husband?”

A sound catches my attention. “Hey, maybe I’m just high, but do you hear someone coming?”

She falls silent, and indeed, the sound of footsteps becomes audible. Not from the venue, but from the opposite direction, the far side of the orchard. Two figures emerge, strolling down the row of trees towards us.

My gaze shifts to the joint. “Should we hide this?”

Belle-Ann shrugs and takes another drag. “Eh, who cares? It’s legal now, anyway.”

I watch nervously as the figures approach. Perhaps it’s just being around family again, but I can’t shake the feeling in the back of my mind that I’m going to get in trouble. College really can’t start soon enough.

“Hide it, put it out,” I hiss anxiously. For all I know, it could be my dad out for a walk with one of his associates. While what I’m doing might be legal, getting caught would make my last few weeks at home unbearable.

Rolling her eyes at me, Belle-Ann extinguishes the joint on the tree trunk behind her.

The men stop. They both appear tall, fit, and attractive, maybe around 10 years older than us. The one with curly hair seems interested in striking up a conversation, but his friend appears completely disinterested. He exudes an air of brooding darkness, barely acknowledging our presence.

“Oh, look at these ladies out in the trees at night,” remarks the curly-haired man in a playfully innocent tone, gesturing with his wine glass. “We were taking a stroll and thought we caught a whiff of someone smoking weed. Perhaps they passed by here and you caught sight of them? Or maybe they’re hiding behind you?”

Belle-Ann bursts into laughter, and even I can’t help but giggle. My friend offers the joint. “Okay, busted. Want a hit?”

The other man, with the dark hair and darker eyes, takes a deep breath, as though being offered a hit of weed is just another in a series of tortures he’s endured.

“You might want to keep your friend away from knives and sharp objects,” I quip to the friendly one, enjoying a nice buzz from the hit I just took. “I think this might be the last straw.”

Belle-Ann snickers.

“Sorry about that. This is Alessio,” he introduces his friend, waving away the joint. “And I’m Dominguez.”

Belle-Ann shrugs and relights the joint. “I’m Belle-Ann, and this is Ayla.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Alessio responds curtly, turning pointedly back toward the reception. “Dominguez, shall we?”

“What’s his deal?” Belle-Ann queries. “Past his bedtime?”

“Good question,” Dominguez chuckles, glancing at his friend. “It’s been a great day for him as far as I can tell, but for some reason, he’s been acting like someone just ran over his dog with a lawnmower.”

Smoke fills the air as Belle-Ann stifles laughter mid-hit. “I can’t believe you got me laughing about a lawnmower accident.”

“Why’s it been a good day for you?” I inquire of Alessio. There’s something familiar about him to me, or maybe I’m just drawn to the tall, dark, and brooding type.

He gazes directly at me, possibly taking me in for the first time. I feel exposed as he scans me up and down. Suddenly, his eyes aren’t vacant anymore; they’re filled with a piercing, almost predatory hunger. Despite feeling vulnerable, I’m aware of my allure in my form-fitting green dress, which adds a sense of power to the moment.

“Let’s just say I received a promotion at work,” he responds in a deep voice, maintaining eye contact.

“And what do you do for work?” I tease in return. I’m puzzled by his reluctance to share. This is a Mafia wedding, after all. Does he think I’m oblivious to that?

“Would you believe me if I said waste management?”

I roll my eyes. “Yeah, my dad’s in that business too.”

Dominguez laughs. “Groom’s side of the family, then. Wait. Are you Anthony Gonzalez’s kid?”

Great, my father’s reputation precedes me. I can’t wait to leave this world behind. “Yep,” I confirm.

Alessio tenses slightly. It’s subtle, but I’m more focused on him than I should be right now. “We should go,” he tells Dominguez. “We’ll smell like smoke if we stay here much longer.”

“Relax, dude, it’s a wedding reception,” Belle-Ann says, offering the joint again. “Here, you look like you could use this.”

He ignores her, but Dominguez winks and takes a quick puff. “Nice meeting you both. We’ll head back to the party now.”

“Byeeeee,” Belle-Ann sings out, clearly in a lighthearted mood.

As they walk back to the wedding reception, Alessio doesn’t look back, but I can’t help but keep my eyes on his retreating figure, feeling incredibly flustered. Why did he bail on the conversation the moment he learned who my father was? And why does he seem so familiar to me?