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

3

Ariel Beckham.

A decade ago, I used to have a solid crush on Ramirez. It was silly. A silly thing that ended very quickly because he left and somehow, every memory of him was erased too.

With his body close to mine, I find his scent to be a complex aroma that is both rich and intriguing. A hint of tobacco, notes of shampoo, suggesting that he is a man who takes personal grooming as important. Interwoven with these, there is a trace of something intoxicatingly expensive, like rare cognac.

On his face is a strong angular jawline. A hint of stubble. Silvery eyes that holds arrogance and a nose, so slightly broken—it is proof of his tumultuous lifestyle. His jet-black hair is slicked back and tied in a bun. If I were asked, I would say it frames his face in dangerous elegance. A single strand escaped, curling rebelliously around his temple.

He has full, sensual lips that seem almost at odds with the hardness of his gaze.

My eyes follow his retreating figure and how he pushes open the store’s door. I sit up on the floor, thinking about what just happened. When he detangled our necklaces, his calloused fingers grazed over my breast. It wasn’t the exposure of my skirt that made me shudder, it was the way his hand hovered against my n*****s. If it lasted, even for a second longer, he would have felt my n****e harden.

I am so embarrassed.

I rise to my feet, struggling to process the closeness and accidental intimacy.

Through the glass, I can see him outside the convenience store. Ramirez is standing on the pathway and he takes out a lighter—he lights his cigarette. Did he even pay for that cigarette? Of course, he didn’t. I am the one who is supposed to ring the registers yet I bumped into him. I place a hand over my mouth, remembering that a few seconds ago, one of his legs were in between my thighs. I gasp, looking back at him.

His arm muscles flexes as he brings the cigarette to his lips. Though, he’s wearing a loose shirt, the fabric cannot hide his build. The canvas, tattoos and dimensions of his hands are so effortlessly commanding—it makes him scary. This is not the person I remember having a crush on. At least, not these features….but still, my heart skips a beat.

Noah bumps against his brother’s chest outside the store with annoyance, clear on his face. Ramirez barely reacts. He glances back at Noah with a smirk, the kind that carries a hint of mischief yet pride. After Noah brushes past him, he enters into the store. Ramirez, who is now looking inside the store blows smoke into the air in a nonchalant manner.

Noah strides up to me and I clear my throat, I must pretend like has nothing happened.

"Why’s your face so red?" Noah inquires in a rude manner.

I latch my hands onto my face, tapping my cheeks as if to dismiss the observation. "It’s not," I protest, my voice is slightly higher than usual.

Yet Noah, the ever observant one, presses knowingly.

"Yet it is!" he insists.

“No…” I say, walking past him.

"Did my brother come in here?" Noah asks, his voice is casual but it is edged with something more.

I hesitate, unsure of how to respond. The truth feels complicated because of what happened when Ramirez came in. So, I resort to a vague, "I think so."

My uncertainty hangs in the air, but Noah doesn’t press further.

Noah’s blonde hair catches the afternoon light and suddenly, I notice something I hadn’t before—they don’t look alike. Ramirez, with his darker, more rugged features, is a complete opposite to Noah’s lighter, almost angelic appearance.

“I mean…can you imagine? Ten years…what were we, ten years old at that time?” Noah begins to speak, his voice is fuelled by frustration as he shifts the candies on the counter, pushing them around absentmindedly. His annoyance is clear as some of the candies fall to the floor, but he doesn’t seem to care.

"Didn’t even think about what it would do to me, to any of us. He didn’t care. Just vanished into his own world, leaving us to pick up the pieces." Noah grumbles, pushes another candy and sending it skidding across the counter.

“The candy didn’t do anything to you, Noah." I gently say.

Noah pauses. The irritation remains in his eyes for a moment before he takes a breath.

"I’m sorry. I just—” Hannah bursts into the store like a tornado, already talking before she’s even fully through the door. The little bell above the entrance barely has time to jingle.

“He’s really your brother!?” she exclaims, eyes wide as she stares at Noah. “Is he a gangster? Is he a lord of the South? Is he part of the gangster squad?! Does he carry guns? I saw the tattoos—they have to mean something. Does he—” Hannah fires a million questions at us.

“Hannah, can you shut up for one second?” Noah snaps, as he slams another box of unsuspecting snacks onto the counter. He’s barely holding it together, and I can tell.

Hannah's gaze shifts to me, and I know what's coming. “Oh, are you still not ready to talk about him?” she presses, leaning in, her eyes glinting with curiosity. “He’s right in front of us already! We might as well—”

“Hannah!” I cut her off, raising my voice just enough to make her blink in surprise. My nerves are on edge, and the last thing I need is her spilling more gossip right now.

Hannah raises her hands, all innocent-like, but she doesn’t let up. “Gosh, everyone’s already talking about him. He’s the hot topic at my mom’s salon this morning.”

Oh, no. Hannah’s mom owns a salon and all the gossips in Southeast City usually gather when there is a new trail line of jist. Now that they have gotten whiff of this—the whole city will know by lunchtime.

“They are? What do they even know about him?” Noah asks in disbelief.

“They know he drives a Bugatti Chiron Super Sport 300+,” Hannah replies casually, like she’s dropping the most normal fact in the world.

Noah and I freeze. “What!?” we say in unison.

“Yep, I saw him get into it just now. Parked right outside.” She crosses her arms, her gossip-loving grin on full display.

“That car costs at least $2.9 million,” Noah mutters, running a hand through his hair. “He must be stealing... doing some damn shit.” God, he’s losing his mind.

Then Hannah, being Hannah, locks eyes with me. “Oh, and where did you sleep last night?” she asks, raising an eyebrow, the question cutting through the air like a knife.

“I slept in Noah’s old room.” I comment.

“Then where did Noah sleep?” Hannah says, pointing and facing him.

“My uncle cleared the room at the end of the hall. It is supposed to be a storage room but now, it’s my new room.”

“So, the room which you used to call yours was Ramirez’s all this while?”

“Obviously.” I retort on Noah’s behalf so he doesn’t have to answer Hannah.

“That means…you are right next to Ramirez!” She grins, swerving that slender finger at me and I eye her down.

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I laugh but in truth, I want to pull Hannah and serve her a punch.

“If you see him, do not even talk to him.” Noah grits, glancing at me.

“Of course, I would never.” I grin, scratching the side of my face because Noah has absolutely no idea. He has no idea what happened at my apartment building and he has no idea what just happened this morning. There is a burning question in my mind. What was Ramirez doing at my apartment? Is he the new landlord? Did he buy the place? I have not seen the landlord in three months…it makes sense that the apartment complex may have been sold.

And if he is driving a car worth millions, then the apartment complex is nothing to him.

The door swings open, and in steps Noah's mother, Teresa. She’s a bit plump…glowing, her warm is radiant, and there’s always a natural blush on her cheeks that makes her look like she’s been kissed by the sun. With her apron tied tightly around her waist, she looks so much like Noah—soft features, same gentle eyes, and an open heart that’s always giving.

"There you guys are…" she says, glancing between us. Her gaze lands on me, and the corners of her mouth lift even higher.

"I have cleared out the room for you. I added new blankets, pillows, and sleepwears, just in case. I could tell Carlos to paint the walls if you—"

"Aunt Teresa," I interrupt quickly, feeling a lump in my throat. "I won’t be staying for long."

But the truth is, I don’t know where else I would go. Nowhere feels safe. The weight of her kindness is pressing against my heart, making me feel both grateful and ashamed for even thinking about leaving.

She tilts her head. "Ariel, I’ve watched you grow up since you were a little girl, and I know you have nowhere to go. You are going to stay here until you start working after college, and you’ve saved up enough to pay for a nice apartment. And until then, you will live in our house. Okay?"

I try to protest again, but my voice cracks. "But—" My words drown in the sudden wave of tears burning my eyes.

She reaches for me, pulling me close.

"Mi cielo, no llores. Todo estará bien." She whispers, wrapping me in safety, and I can’t help but break. Tears spill down my face, and I let her hold me.

"Thank you," I whisper, barely able to get the words out.

“You are my daughter. I won’t see in the streets.” She professes and I grin.

“And you,” she says, referring to Noah who is not even looking at her.

“Why are you even allowing him to even stay in the house?” Noah blurts, angrily.

“It’s his house.” Aunt Teresa inputs.

“Yeah, the one that he abandoned a decade ago! You can’t even look him in the eyes and you want me to stop being angry.” Noah says and she exhales.

“Do you see me fussing out on others who have nothing to do with it? No. If I have to fuss out, I’ll fuss on Ramirez himself.”

“Madre, he drives a 2.9 million car!” Noah evokes.

“Where did you hear that from?” Aunt Teresa asks and Hannah steps back.

Noah is about to make Hannah repeat what was said in her mother’s store it but the door opens again. This time, Carlos, one of Noah’s uncles, along with Noah’s step father, Lorenzo step into the store.

“That bastard needs to leave this house!” Carlos growls and we all know who he is referring to.

Just, what else have they found out about Ramirez?

This is literally the worst time, ever, to be homeless.