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

2

Ramirez Gonzales.

At eighteen, I left home to become a part of the South snakes.

We are a notorious mafia clan known for ruthless efficiency and strategic cunning. We operate primarily in the southern regions, owing a reputation for being feared, well-organized, strict code of loyalty and a hierarchical structure that ensures discipline. As a boy, my life changed forever when I witnessed my father’s murder at the hands of a masked gangster. I saw the murder happen. The masked gangster looked at me, pointed the gun and wondered if it was worth killing me. As he pointed the gun, speculating whether my life was worth taking, I caught the symbol—the tattoo of a coiled snake with its fangs bared.

It was the symbol of the South snakes. And from that forward, everything in my life pointed to it. The memory of that night, the image of the masked man, and everything in between etched itself into my mind, fuelling a burning desire for revenge. Thus, when I turned eighteen, I left my mother a letter and I hit the roads.

Quickly, I caught sight of the wealth and influence in which the mafias wielded with seemingly little effort. It was a blatant contrast to the life of struggle that my family was put through after the death of my father. The allure of money was easy, coupled with chances to rise through the ranks and one day, find those who are responsible for my father’s death.

I joined as a recruit but in a matter of months, I honed my skills in gambling and navigating the currents of the underworld. I don’t know where I learnt from but I caught onto calculated risks with a motive to climb through the ranks. My proficiency and daring caught the attention of the godfathers, the senior elites within the South Snakes. From being a recruit, I was elevated, and recognized for potential. In no time, I began to move with the godfathers, learning the nuances of power.

My time with the godfathers solidified my status within the clan. Now, after a decade, I have returned to the city because the man I am looking for just happens to be back here. Returning to the Southeast city wasn’t just about coming home; it is about staking a claim. Years, before my feet ever touched the city, I contacted a realtor and we started with apartment complexes. My lawyer and friend meticulously acquired the complexes on my behalf, each transaction was carefully orchestrated to avoid drawing unnecessary attention. My focus was on undervalued properties in the neighborhoods, we negotiated deals that seemed inconspicuous to outsiders but were pivotal to my plan.

As of now, I own the biggest casino and largest mall in Southeast city—my strategic assets, they are perfect for establishing a foothold in the city. The casino is my crown jewel, a hub where all the city's whispers converge. Wealth didn’t come easy, but now it's in my hands, and I am going to use it to lay the groundwork. Every move is calculated and every purchase is a step closer to finding the man who took my father from me.

My family are unaware that I have been running million-dollar enterprises, right under their noses. Yesterday, I arrived in the city, hoping to check the apartment complexes that I purchased a few months back. They needed renovations. Yet, what I didn’t expect to see is her, that young girl—the one who used to have a crush on me, Ariel. Her name rolled off my tongue before I could ever curtail it.

Usually, I walk past confrontations that have nothing to do with me due to the fact that once I involve myself, I cannot help but escalate things. It is the gangster in me.

But in that moment, I just couldn’t walk past. I came to Southeast to take over the city and I might as well start by shoving men like that puss. It was pretty obvious that Ariel did not recognize me. When I mentioned her name, she was even more shocked but she obeyed me.

After showing her lover what a real fist tasted of, I made my way to my family house.

When I stepped into the house, the weight of silence pressed down on me like a heavy blanket. I cannot blame their shock. I made no contact over the years. I didn’t reach out. My mother probably rendered me dead after my cruel absence. When I met her eyes, there was a flood of emotion in her gaze. Shock, fear, guilt—something overwhelming. Before I could say anything, she turned and ran, disappearing in a hurried and uneven manner.

My uncles looked like they’d seen a ghost. Their mouths opened and closed, but no words came out. Stuttering and fumbling over themselves, they couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

I made my way upstairs, to the room I used to call mine. But when I opened the door, I smiled for Noah had taken over.

The walls were lined with his trophies—soccer medals, boxing gloves, a signed baseball bat hanging on the wall. His desk was cluttered with books and magazines about cars, motorcycles, and some half-finished sketch of an engine blueprint. A punching bag hung in the corner, still swaying from recent use.

I headed into the bathroom to wash off. The water was hot as I remember, scalding against my back. After washing up, I heard the door creak open.

I came out, water dripping down my face, and there she was again. Ariel. Of all the people I expected—or didn’t expect—she was the last person I thought I’d see. Yet, from the crown of her head to the soles on her feet—it was apparent that she wasn’t a little girl anymore. Next, was Noah’s rage. But just like my mother, he was too overwhelmed to even speak to me.

“He thinks he can just come back!?”

My uncles, Carlos and Patrick, are engaged in a heated argument, debating my presence in the calm of the morning. I am standing at the center of the room, listening to the storm of their words but I remain composed. My gaze is fixed on my mother, who sits silently in her chair.

She has blonde hair, just like Noah’s. Time has nothing for her beauty is undeniable. Yet, there is a lingering sadness in her features. Since my return last night, she has not met my gaze—I don’t know if it is because I take after my father in appearance or if it’s her disappointment. Did she hate me over the years? Did she call me dead? This barrier is a chasm created by years of separation for the path I chose.

“Mother.” I call out and I catch the reaction on her fingers which trembles.

“Don’t f*****g speak to her, you bastard!” Patrick yells, his face is flushed with anger as he stands directly in front of me.

“You have been dead to us! What makes you think you can come back!? You belong to the streets.” Carlos adds, his finger jabs the air between us as if to punctuate his accusations.

“You remarried another man?” I ask, and my mother rises on her feet, to leave…she is not ready to look me in the face and own up to the fact that she has replaced my father throughout the years.

“You think you have a right to question her decision!? Get the hell out of this house!” Carlos bellows again. He is a stout man with gruff exterior and in anger, he attempts to physically move me. He reaches out to grab my arm—his intent is clear as he tries to forcefully tosses me. He yanks and pulls, expecting some compliance, but I do not flinch.

The first lessons of being a South snake recruit involved f****d up trainings—knife fighting, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, Krav Maga, Muay Thai, firearms training and more. So, no matter how hard Carlos pulls, I am immovable. He becomes breathless and confused. And eventually, he lets go, looking at me in wonder.

“Leave him.” My mother says, walking out of the door and failing to answer any of my questions. Noah is at the entrance as our mother walks past, he is looking at me with anger and perhaps, hate.

I am slightly frustrated but I already knew it would be hard to reintegrate with my family. I know it will take time to be accepted after everything that has happened. My muscles tense and I tap my fingers, in need of some damn cigarettes. I walk past my uncles who are still shocked at the disbelief of my stance.

I head downstairs to the family convenience store that my father built. I can’t believe my mother is still holding it up—I figured it would have closed down. Once inside, I head straight to the cigarette aisle, scanning the familiar brands until I find the one I’m looking for. I grab a pack and next, I head to the fridge. I pull out a beer. With one finger, I effortlessly pop the top off the can.

As I turn, a sudden bump jolts me out of momentary respite. I turn sharply, only to collide with a girl who is navigating the narrow aisle of the store. The impact throws us both off balance. In a desperate attempt to prevent my beer from spilling, and her, struggling to maintain her own balance. She instinctively reaches out, gripping my sleeve and stumbling forward.

As a result, she falls on top of me and our bodies crash down to the ground. I find myself face to face with Ariel—Noah’s best friend.

High cheekbones.

Doe eyes, they are like pools of liquid gold. At this proximity, one can see that they hold the color of the Nile at sunset. At the center of her face is a delicate nose, slightly upturned. As far as I can remember, her skin is the color of white sand. A fringe of dark curls softly veils her forehead. I have never seen such lustrous curls; each one is a perfect helix of ebony. They frame her face like a living halo, rich in sheen. Tendrils of her hair are scattered on her face and they carry a scent of their own—a sweet, nutty aroma that complements the vanilla of her skin.

I swallow, looking at her lips which are painted in the shades of rose.

Regardless, I hate being at the bottom and my patience wears thin. My eyes narrow with irritation, and I growl.

"Get off me, will you?" My tone is curt and her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Ariel tries to push herself up. But as she moves, her necklace—an ornate piece, gets caught on my gold chain. The tangle pulls her back with a force that she doesn’t expect and she topples forward. Our faces come dangerously close but before our lips can meet, I shift my weight quickly. I manoeuvre our positions by rising above her. My body casts a shadow over hers.

In this new position, one leg presses between Ariel’s, creating an intimate and somewhat uncomfortable proximity. I reach for the necklaces to detangle us from this situation and the thing looks f*****g complicated. I look down at Ariel and I notice the discomfort on her face.

“My skirt, please…” She whispers.

I look down at the flimsy skirt she’s wearing and my gaze shifts to her exposed lap. Her skirt has ridden up during the fall. Without a word, I extend one hand, tugging it down to cover her exposed thigh. After doing that, I focus on untangling the necklaces. During this process, I am acutely aware of the rise and fall of Ariel’s chest with each breath. My gaze inadvertently meets hers, and she blinks twice. As I untangle the last knot, I take one last gaze at her face.

Years have passed and she has blossomed into a woman that will capture attention effortlessly. With this face of hers, she will break the hearts of men. I rise from my position above Ariel and I retrieve the beer from the floor.