My Best Friend's Mafia Brother: A Love I Can't Resist

Ariel Beckham It all started when my sadistic ex-boyfriend, Johnathan broke into my apartment. Now, I share a room, next to my best friend’s older brother—Ramirez Gonzales. He is a mafia. An undeniably dangerous man—I must confess. I have lived in a city crowded by gangsters at every street but his magnetism is something I have never seen. There are many reasons why I fear Ramirez but I submit to him for one. He is always there, just when I need him. His gaze alone is enough to unnerve me—his eyes are too steely yet captivating. From what I have witnessed in one month, he wields power like a weapon—something he learned from the underworld. I shouldn’t be having feelings for someone like Ramirez, someone who doesn’t care about love. I am done with my fair share of bad boys and Noah; my best friend will be torn apart if he were to learn that I dream of his brother morning, noon and night. But our rooms are doors apart and he knocked. So, I answered. My eyes diverge from his cold gaze to the mature bulge in between his legs that is proving to be erect despite the layers of clothing. He is accustomed to sinful things and he will not spare me. Despite being a mafia who can have any woman in the city—he leaves his potent gaze on my abundant breasts, and it leaves them hardening as the second’s pass. “Come here.” Ramirez contends, his tone is rasp as a dagger. I watch his calloused hands move to the buckle of his belts. Ramirez desperately grabs me. He bends me against the wall, lifts the distressed sleep gown, and grabs my hips. My eyes flutter as he buries his enormous length into me, silencing our voices in the wake of the night. ********* Weeks earlier, I live in the slums of Southeast City. It is a part of the city where one could die or get beaten to a pulp yet, no one will bat an eye. It is that part of the city where laws do not apply. It is controlled by a majority of mafias and gangsters— "the overlords.” as I like to call them. How did I end up here? I don’t know. Maybe, we can start with the divorce of my parents. I chose to stay with my mom because there were more tears in her eyes on that day. My dad tried to convince me, but I didn’t take his hand because he didn’t look sorry. He wasn’t crying. He wasn’t hollering. I thought he could do fine without me. As a child, it looked like my mother needed me the most And today, I regret ever making that stupid decision. I shouldn’t have pitied her. My mom became a drunkard shortly after the divorce. It started with one sip of wine, then a glass, two glasses before bed, two bottles before bed. Four, five…six. She began to show up to work drunk, her co-workers couldn’t keep up with her and she got fired. We couldn’t pay up rent in the big city. So, we moved to Southeast City. I was only ten and since then, I have had to fend for myself. I am in my senior year of high school and life…life is wrecking me from every corner. Rent. Work. Food. “I heard he got three girls pregnant this year.” Hannah says, licking the popsicle off her hands in a slurpy manner. “Three? I thought it was eight.” Noah says, he is my best friend. Well, they are my best friends since like… forever. We go to the same high school, we have almost the same problems and we are attached like siblings. I have a problem. I am broke. I work a part time job at Noah’s family convenience store but it only pays five dollars per hour. I need more. I need to hand my rent over to the landlord soon. He has not visited in three months, which is strange. A few weeks ago, I broke up with my ex-boyfriend, Johnathan. He is a jock, the captain of the football team. We dated for a year plus, I guess… Johnathan used to pay my rent and other expenses. But recently, I couldn’t take him cheating on me anymore. I was such a fool. I let it slide, just once. And then, it happened, four times again. I ended it with him two weeks ago but still, he keeps blowing up my phone. I hastily keep my phone inside my bag before Hannah and Noah can take notice of it. “I heard Miguel got shot yesterday!” Hannah voices and I stop for a moment. Miguel is Johnathan’s elder brother—a gangster like every other man in this slump. I bite my lips as my phone buzzes for what seems to be the 30th time. It’s Johnathan, again! The last time I wasn’t home, he broke into the apartment because I left my keys under the floor mat. s**t. I left it there again. “Barbecue at my place starts in one hour.” Noah says. “Guys, can you wait? I think I left my keys under the mat again.” I say, tucking a hair behind my ear. “Yeah, but you have just thirty minutes…” “We’ll wait for you at the park—” Noah hasn’t completed but I start running. I spin to the other side of the block where cars blaring loud music pass by. A group of kids rush past me and I weave through it all, crossing to the complex that looms ahead. The apartment building is a shadowy relic of better days. The walls are cracked and weathered, with large chunks of paint peeling away. As I enter, two drunk girls stumble out of the building, nearly crashing into me. Skilfully, I evade them, and once I enter, I quicken my pace, eager to avoid any encounter with the landlord or my damn ex. The stairwells are lit by a weak bulb that buzzes within every second. I climb the stairs quickly until I reach my floor. When I Iook up, I see Jonathan, waiting for me. I gasp in shock. He leans against the wall with a hood pulled over his hair. His eyes are full of mischief and his lips curls into a smirk when he spots me. “Hey, baby,” he says. His voice is a low, taunting drawl. Immediately, I try to run. But Jonathan is quick, he moves with an unsettling fluidity to block my path. His mischievous eyes narrow as he steps closer—it has become suffocating. “Are you crazy!?” I shriek. “Crazy! You evade me in school. You do not pick my calls—” “Pick your calls? I knew you were an i***t but being dumb is something different.” I scowl at him. “I apologized already! Why are you playing hard to get?” Johnathan bristles, cornering me again and I squeeze my fists, fuming. “I ended the relationship two weeks ago. I am not playing hard to get. I am done with you!” I yell and this time, I shove him away with all my strength. Yet, Johnathan is too strong. He presses my back against the wall. And his hands lock me in place, splayed wide to block any chance of escape. Johnathan’s face is inches from mine. He leans in so that his lips brush against my cheek. I used to feel butterflies when he did this. Now, I feel nothing but disgust. "I promise I won't do it again," he murmurs. All of a sudden, I spot a manly figure ascending the stairs. I don’t know who he is but quickly, our eyes meet. I begin to feel a bunch of conflicting emotions—relief, anxiety, and embarrassment. There are a lot of people in this apartment building but this stranger is different. I have never seen him before but he looks familiar. He is huge, at least 6'1", with broad shoulders and thick arms, veins snaking beneath his skin. He carries an air of danger, the kind that clings to every inch of him. Gangster, mafia... it’s written all over him. He looks at the scene before him, taking in the way Jonathan has pinned me against the wall. I am waiting, expecting him to say something. Jonathan notices the shift in my focus and he follows my gaze. For a moment, the world pauses between the three of us yet Jonathan turns his attention back to me. The stranger walks past us as if he doesn’t even notice my plight. My heart sinks. Does he not see that I am uncomfortable? What do I even expect from gangsters? "So, what do you say?" Johnathan presses. His words drip with the same arrogance, the same dismissive tone that I am tired of. "Stop it…" I whisper. But Jonathan doesn’t stop. He keeps talking! "Stop it!" I screech again. "Keep your voice down." he seethes back at me. Before I can respond, a low voice cuts through the tension. “Didn’t you hear her? Stop it.” The dark-haired man returns. His presence looms over us and his eyes are locked onto Jonathan. The shift in the air is immediate. As Jonathan turns to face Ramirez, the difference in their statures is apparent. The stranger towers over him by far, with one hand casually tucked into his pocket—a confidence that makes this situation even more unnerving. “And who the f**k are you!?” Johnathan snaps with false bravado. “I’m the owner of this place.” This man—this enigma—replies. What!? This can’t be true. How is he the owner of this place? He looks nothing like the landlord I know! “Then, we’ll take it outside.” Johnathan says, grabbing my hand to take me. “Let me go!” I yell. “Let her go.” The stranger utters in a rather soft manner. Yet, every word is clear. “Leave before I punch a hole in your face!” Johnathan provokes, taking a step closer to physically berate him, “John—” I try to stop him. “Shut up!” He lashes at me. “Go inside.” The stranger says, facing me and I blink. There’s a force behind his words that I can’t understand. “Do you know this guy?” Johnathan roars back at me. “Ariel?” The stranger voices. And that is my name. How? How does he know my name? “Do not make me repeat myself.” He adds, with a voice of gravelly quality, patterns of rough edges like none I have heard before. I am taken back. I want to speak but it’s only a stutter. All of a sudden, my tongue is useless. Who is he to know my name? Quickly, I run towards the door, grabbing the key from the mat. I slam the door behind me and clutch onto my heart. I lean against it for a second, feeling my own pulse in my own ears. But curiosity wins over, and I slowly stand on my toes to peer through the peephole. Through the small lens, I see Jonathan’s face in a sneer. He’s chuckling, but his eyes are sharper than ever, cutting right into the gangster who I think saved me. “Are you banging her? Are you the one paying her f*****g bills now?” Johnathan spits and I scoff in anger. Then, without warning, Johnathan throws the first punch. But the dark-haired man—he swerves it, almost effortlessly. Jonathan pauses, eyes wide in surprise, before throwing another punch, harder this time. And again, the taller man avoids it, like he’s toying with him. Before Jonathan can react, the man grabs him by the head—his grip like steel—and in one motion, he bangs Jonathan’s head against his own, the sickening sound of bone on bone makes my fingers quiver. Then, he pushes Jonathan, sending him tumbling down the stairs with one powerful shove. I collapse to the ground in fear. Whoever this man is—he’s not just dangerous. He’s something worse. Not even a gangster. A mafia boss? I start to crawl backward. If I don’t get out of here, two things will happen. Miguel will come back once he hears about Jonathan getting beaten. And when Miguel shows up, he won’t be fighting with fists. He’ll bring guns. He’ll want to question someone and I do not want to be that person. I don’t want to be anywhere near it. I begin to shove clothes into a bag—underwear, t-shirts, shoes. My hands are shaking so badly I can barely zip it up, but I manage, every second stretches out into eternity. For almost an hour, I wait. I need to make sure they are gone before I open this door. Finally, I dare to peek through the peephole again. It’s quiet. Too quiet. I grab my bag and begin to head out of the apartment. I make it past a few blocks away and finally, I round the corner to the park where Noah and Hannah are standing there, waiting for me. “It’s been a good forty minutes!” Hannah shrieks at me for being late. “Did you forget to drop that off?” Noah asks, gestures toward my bag. “No, I think there’s going to be a fight in the building,” I sigh. “A fight? What happened?” Noah questions, concerned about me. “I don’t know…I just heard really bad arguments.” I lie. If I say more, it’ll be obvious that Jonathan was looking for me. And that’s something I can’t let them know—not yet. “Noah, can I stay at your place tonight?” “And tomorrow? And the day after? And until I find somewhere else to stay? The roof is leaking and the bathroom pipes are not working—” “Do you even have to ask? You know my mom loves it when you stay.” Noah bumps into my shoulder and grabs the bag from my hand. We get to Noah’s family house. And as usual, we use the back of Noah's house to enter—the front is kind of chaotic because Noah has a big family. The backstairs are narrow but familiar, leading straight up to Noah's room. Once we reach Noah's room, the two of them exits out of the door but I stay behind. I need to think about what just happened to me. Suddenly, the bathroom door swings open, and it reveals a man who has a towel wrapped around his waist, draped low enough to reveal the V-line leading to his groins. Silvery eyes that hold arrogance and a nose, so slightly broken. I lift my eyes to see, him! HIM! The dark-haired stranger who beat the s**t out of Johnathan! I gasp, using both palms to cover my mouth. The door bursts open and Noah bolts in. “Ramirez!?” Noah yells. Another shock of wave spans through me because I have heard the name, "Ramirez" before—he is Noah’s older brother, the one who left home ten years ago.