The Capo's Desire

Three

Yanex

My first kill was when I was eight years old; I tossed and turned in the bed that night. I had reoccurring nightmares of that night. As the little boy I was, I peed my bed every night until my father, the one that many feared, beat the living shīt out of me. Never again did I wet the bed. Last night’s kill was one of the many kills I have had to do for my father. My father not only made me do his dirty work, but he taught me how to be better than him. I just hope that I don’t have to use what he has taught me against him for his own sake.

I lay in bed, waiting for Amelia to call me. She landed exhausted and went straight to her friend’s house to sleep. The relationship we had was like no other. It was as if she was born for me.

As if I called her with my thoughts, my phone rang. “Hello, princess.” I answered the phone, her face filling the screen.

“When am I going to see you?” She asked as she pushed the hair out of her face.

“I can be wherever you want me to be; just tell me the time and place.” I replied, sitting upright on the bed as the sheets fell, showing my bare chest. It is no mystery that when you are born into the Mafia, the rules made for ordinary people don’t apply to you. Amelia has seen me without a shirt plenty of times before in our thousands of FaceTime calls, but each time she blushed and she bit the corner of her lower lip, making my member down south wake up.

“Eyes on me, princess.” I told her, bringing her back to the present and my eyes, not to the tattoo on my chest, that, in reality, was done to cover one of the many scars made by my father.

She smiled, showing me the dimples I fell in love with and am dying to kiss. “I am looking at you, Yanex.” She said, making me laugh. “We will get ready now, and I will let you know where we will be, okay?” She asked as she stood up from what I assumed was the bed.

“Yes.” I replied, making her glare. She hated when I didn’t call her princess or Amelia. I laughed at her glaring, then continued, “Yes, my princess.” I said right after blowing her a kiss and ending the call.

I threw the covers off of my legs, stood up from the bed, and headed to the shower. Walking out of the shower, I grabbed a white plush towel that my mother insisted on buying, then wrapped it around my waist. I walked into the closet and grabbed the first shirt I saw from the hanger; it didn’t matter. All my clothes were black; not only does the black color block out bloodstains and spatters you may get while making a kill, but it also makes you look the part; it makes you look bad.

Once fully dressed, I walked over to the dresser, grabbing my cellphone, wallet, Smith and Wesson, and car keys. I walked out of my room to be greeted by the man I once loved, my father.

“Can it wait till later?” I asked him as I walked past him and toward the stairs while I fixed the holster of my gun on my belt.

“Where do you think you are going?” He asked me as he followed me to the stairs.

“Out.” I replied, then turned around. “Alone.”

“You are going nowhere alone, Yanex.” He replied, making me stifle a chuckle.

“If you don’t want to lose men, I suggest you don’t have anyone follow me.” I advised, then walked toward the car garage.

I knew he would not care; it was my father. He doesn’t care for me, and I am his ‘son’. Do you think that he would care for some of his soldiers? Not a chance in hell.

I got into my charcoal Mazzanti Evantra Millecavalli, pressing the button to give life to the engine. I placed the car on the drive and then sped through the estate, knowing that his men would be right behind me but not fast enough. I would not kill them out in the open, no. I will see their faces, and then they would die before the man who gave them the direct order to follow me.

I arrived to see my princess with five minutes to spare. My hands were getting clammy like any other teenager. My heart was thumping, and the back of my neck was getting hot with anticipation and nervousness. I was finally going to have my princess in my arms. I waited until I saw her dark brown hair flowing with the wind, and then as if she sensed that I was looking at her, she turned around and looked at me.

Her smile over the phone did numbers on me, but seeing it face to face had me stuck to my ground. She sauntered over to me slowly while looking down occasionally to ensure that she would not fall face first. I have seen many women wear what my princess was wearing right now, but she made it look ten times better. She had a gold camisole on, tucked in with light blue ripped jeans that molded every inch of her perfect fūcking body and black fūck me heels.

Once she was standing in front of me, I grabbed her by her wrist and brought her in. I placed my nose in the crook of her neck to smell her sweet scent. Magnolias.

“Fūck, princess. You smell divine.” I told her while still holding her in my embrace. The sparks flowed everywhere, and my fingertips were tingly just by touching her camisole.

“You as well, mi amore.” She replied, making me smile at her as she called me ‘my love’ in her native language.

“Shall we go inside?” I asked her, motioning her toward the restaurant entrance that I had reserved just for the two of us. Money talks and būllshīt walks, and in the city of New York, it is as much accurate as it gets. She nodded her head and then followed me inside the restaurant.

Once she saw that it was just us, she stopped dead in her tracks. “Is it closed?” She asked, making me smile and shake my head.

“No, princess. It’s reserved just for the two of us.” I replied, grabbing her hand and placing a kiss on her fingertips, causing her breathing to hitch and her cheeks to get a tint of pink on them.

“Welcome. Follow me to your table.” The waitress said in almost a purr, completely disregarding Amelia's presence right next to me. I nodded, giving her the okay as she turned around and made the way to the back of the restaurant, where a table big enough for two was set. I grabbed the chair out for Amelia, let her sit, and slowly pushed her chair in.

“Your parents raised you right.” She said, making me stiff right behind her. If she only fūcking knew that my mother taught me manners in hiding.

“Only one person to thank for that princess.” I told her as I kissed the top of her head and sat across the table.

She furrowed her brows, not understanding my comment. “Soon, princess, soon.” I told her the only thing that I could.

At this moment, having her sitting right across from me gave me all the assurance I needed. I was never going to let Amelia go. Amelia was going to be mine come hell or high waters.

“What is on your mind?” She asked as the waitress came back around to ask for our drinks. I held the menu as I ignored her gaze. She was going to get it. I will gut her if my princess gets a whiff of this whöre trying to get my attention.

“I will have a Dr. Pepper.” Amelia said, bringing me back from my plan of killing this whöre.

“What about you?” She bent down as she purred in my ear. Amelia looked down, then back up, standing up from the table.

“Excuse me. I have to freshen up.” She said as she turned around and walked away from me. I have only had her for five minutes, and she is already walking away from me all because of some whöre!

As soon as Amelia was out of my eyesight, I stood to my feet, grabbing the whöre by her neck. “Have some fūcking respect for my woman! One more look my way, and I will leave you without an eye. Do. You. Understand?” I asked her as I squeezed her neck tighter. She nodded with tears rolling down her face.

“Good.” I replied, letting her go and then sitting back down to wait for Amelia. I let her settle back in her chair and then grabbed her hand.

“Don’t ever bow down to a whöre. You are the equivalent of a queen. You need to hold your head high. Do you understand me?” I asked her as I rubbed her knuckles. Her skin felt like silk between my calloused hands.

My mind kept going to that dark place that I didn’t want to visit just yet.

Only one thing that I have to confess. I am the son of Beau Tarantino, the most powerful capo in the city of New York.

I hope and pray that she will accept me with flaws and all, that she could look past the fact that I am not my father.