The Mafia Hidden Heirloom

CHAPTER 2 - A Master

THE NEXT DAY

"While we wait for the kids, tell me about you," said the man who took me from the orphanage home.

There was nothing relaxed about me; I looked like a dried corpse, and prominent veins bulged on the surface of my skin. He was too far away to notice the uncontrolled tapping of my shoes against the polished tiles. In one sentence, I was terrified and intimidated.

We are both settled at a twelve-seater dining table, in what he called a dining room. The surroundings were nothing less fancy than everywhere in this house. Behind him was a giant painting of a man that was not him on a canvas, perhaps someone famous he's fond of. The temperature was unlike anything I've ever weathered in my whole eighteen years. Every antique gathered and placed in its necessary spot was either gold, white, or baby blue, and the pleasant scent around the house mixed with the varieties of food served on the long table added to the flavor of the aura.

If it was back at the orphanage, I'd be devouring all the good things on the table, that seemed to have taken so much time to be prepared. But at this point, while my stomach was making grumbling sounds, like that of an angry thunder, I can assure it wasn't because of hunger but fear, for I didn't even have an appetite.

"I am June Third, I am—" I began, my breathing shaking. He kindly cut me off before I finished.

His voice was convincing when he said calmly, "You are just June, remember?" His eyes held mine captive while at it.

I nodded, forcing a tight smile. "Yes. June. Uhm..." I didn't know what else about me to share, but since we are in communication terms, it would be nice if he tells me why I am here.

He had acknowledged from my stuttering that I was a package of boringness, with nothing up my sleeve worth entertaining for him.

"What about I ask you what I'd like to know, and you will answer them to your knowledge?" He politely implied, displaying curiosity and cautiousness.

I was quick to nod in response. I do not know why, but I felt the need to be at ease around the man, fearing the possibility of another side of him that I might not have been introduced to.

"I know your age, but I'd like to know how far your studies are."

This is my second day around this man, but I've got by heart a keen sense of his style. Just like yesterday, he's now dressed impeccably in a tailored designer suit, complemented by elegant accessories and polished shoes.

"We used to have classes in math and English," I answered, having to clear my voice to sound audible from the quite a distance between us.

"Used to?" his brows rose, curiously.

"We graduated once we knew the four operations in maths and could read a page of a book."

"You only knew math and English?" He amusedly questioned.

"Reese says they're the only essential education we need to live."

"Do you agree?" He adjusted in his seat, his eyes narrowed challenging as he awaited my response.

"I do not know anything else to argue against her words," I mumbled, my eyes downcasted.

"Do you know what school is?" He asked.

"I read about it in books."

"Ahh... you and I have something in common. I also have a soft spot in my nature for reading. I believe it's a pursuit of profound education that's not taught at schools, and as a human, we can benefit from it for our personal growth. Some knowledge is hidden in unique books, just stored there, waiting to be mined one after the other, like hidden gems in the earth's crust."

I see what he was doing; he was trying to get me to relax. But I do not know, because the more our conversation deepens, the more I see the massive space between our beliefs, our levels, and our culture. He was an intelligent man, who sees the world more unambiguously than I ever will. He was well-traveled, he was keen on learning everything because he was the man who needs to have it all.

"Yes," but I agree, inwardly nervously.

"But to answer you, I will agree that school is a step forward. It's a place you will like, and it's crowded with people seeking passage to knowledge. Maybe then you will know a lot more and be able to argue against math and English being the only essential compass for living." He politely smiled.

"You have a school in this house?" I wondered.

His smile widened; he was amused by my question clearly. "I do not have a school. I do business, pertaining to different métiers, but not a teacher. That's what school is for; there are people solely focused on teaching you."

I think the little time I spent around this man, I've gotten to learn more than I did my entire eighteen years.

"So it is outside this house?" I asked him.

"Yes."

"Oh..."

"But you will go." He encouraged, a bit authoritative but it mostly sounded like he was trying to induce confidence in me.

My eyes widened, I stared at him. "Outside?"

"Yes, you need it." He agreed.

"Reese doesn't let us out of her sight. She believes we will run away or get lost or get kidnapped."

"But you can't run away from me, and no one in this world can kidnap you from me. If you get lost, it wouldn't be that hard to find you." He said with certitude. He was so sure about his words.

"Why is that? Is the world small?"

"The world is big; it's just that the residents of it know better than to take something of mine." Yet again, he was confident about his belief.

Will I run away if I have the chance? That's something I will have to ask myself again in a few more times when I get to know what I am in for.

"Sounds like you are powerful." I implied, from what I've comprehended while sitting around her speaking with him.

He smiled at my phrase, while I waited for him to confirm my statement. But instead, his eyes shifted somewhere behind me, and his smile broadened even more.

"There they are." He announced, gesturing with his hand at the space behind me.

Approaching footsteps were audible, luring my gaze to follow the direction, and two young men appeared before me, heads up, shoulders broad; they strode so proudly, as though they'd take another option if there were any, rather than stepping on the ground while going for each side of the table. I wonder if it's the nature of this gender that is a new subject in my life, but honestly, the man who brought me, although middle-aged, he wasn't even a proud human.

However, his sons carried an air of prominence and domination.

Mixed fragrances of familiar perfumes wafted through the atmosphere as they walked past me. Both of which, I could say I recognized. The scents caught me off guard and threw me into a pit of fear.

I wasn't in my head, there was certainly someone in the room with me. And the words they spoke in the darkness now repeated itself in the back of my head. "Who do you intend to kill?"

But if that's not enough, add a hurricane to the storm; the other scent was even more familiar because I drank it in my mouth. It was Duncan, the displeased man who broke up with his girlfriend.

Sitting here, my mind and emotions disabled, I still couldn't figure out what I got myself into, but I'd bet my life I will be ruined. And that left me feeling uneasy, to the core. Hell, the whole of me.

If their ominous words and the pride they carry (of the arrogant kind) weren't enough, the boys stood at nothing short of 6 feet 2 inches, dressed entirely in black. They didn't give me much of a view to study their faces and fully understand their appearances. I was genuinely curious about that, but from their side profiles as they kept their heads turned in their father's direction, I could discern that each of them had their own perfectly favored look, contributing to their air of superiority and what seemed like narcissism.

It took me a moment of examining, gaping, marveling, rating, and calculating as this is my second time encountering young men of the opposite gender, before it finally dawned on me that the "kids" the master had mentioned to wait for before starting dinner weren't really kids.

They were grown men, and none of them liked me.

"We do have a guest?" One of the master's sons said. His voice was resonant and rich with flavor, giving a prominent hint of challenge and fearlessness. I flinched in my seat. It was that same voice, that predatory voice from the dark.

"Come sit with us," their father invitingly signaled with his hands at his two sons, standing on either side of the dining table.

I wasn't myself anymore, as I had been when I started to relax around their father some minutes ago.

"I am not hungry. I would like to be excused," the other son said for the first time. I am sure is Duncan. I know his voice. He does sound aggressive, but in a calm tone, struggling to maintain a fake facade in his body language.

From where I sat, I could see his clenched fists shoving into his pockets and a muscle ticking in his jaw.

Yes! That behavior he gave to his girlfriend.

I wondered what was with all the tension in the air and why the boys were being rude. It was obvious they hated the idea of me; that was for sure. Did I need to tell them that I also hated the idea of being in this house when I should be outside, exploring the world and learning all the things I didn't get to know while at the orphanage?

Although there were hints of similar genes when you looked closely at the boys and their father, I think it's safe to say the two boys were nothing like their father when it came to charisma and generosity. They acknowledged my presence but saw it as beneath them to even spare me a glance.

"How civil," I thought.

"You are not excused," the master, their father, yelled, startling me with the unexpected volume of his tone. He was clearly not happy with their attitude. "You both will sit down and eat even if there is no space left in your stomachs." His voice had mildly resolved, but the tone of his anger was still there.

In shock, unable to even breathe, let alone move a part of my body, I watched the master compose himself and smiled restrainedly when our eyes met.

It was basically scary.

The two boys seemed tense as they reluctantly joined us at the table against their will.

Silence filled the room, merging with the thick tense air and creating a heated ambiance.

"June and I were discussing campus life. Do you boys want to tell her about it?" He went about the conversation like nothing had just happened and started eating with the shiny cutlery in his hands in a classic manner.

"It's a campus," the one on my right reluctantly said, as though he was held at gunpoint.

"Duncan is majoring in business, and Colten in political science. Their physical looks and aspirations aren't identical, but their brains are. Their grades would make you proud," the master said with pride for his son's achievements, and all through the time, my eyes couldn't help but stare at Duncan, who made a point to avoid looking in my direction, acting totally like he and I never met.

"You're not eating. Is the food not to your liking?" Master asked me, and I was quick to shake my head. No, towards him, but before I could say anything, the one on my right beat me up to it.

"I doubt she looks hungry," the one on my right mocked again, looking into his plate but not touching a thing.

He was the stalker in the room with me.

"Colten!" He was warned, and he scoffed at his father with his head down, nodding knowingly.

"Let's put aside the fake facade. What's the announcement this time, Dad?" Duncan, said on my left, sitting back and folding his arms as he challenged their father. He then turned to me. It was the second time I saw his face.

And the moment I laid eyes on him again, I was completely and utterly captivated by the sheer allure of his face. His features seemed carefully sculpted to perfection, leaving an indelible mark on my memory. His mesmerizing brown eyes were intense and piercing, drawing me in with their magnetic gaze. Shaded by thick, dark eyebrows, they possessed a commanding power, hinting at the strength of his personality.

His straight nose, slightly prominent, harmoniously complemented the rest of his facial structure. Yet, with our eyes locked, I couldn't help but notice a subtle upward tilt, a sign of his confidence and arrogance. His full lips, impeccably shaped and inviting, adorned with a self-assured smirk, made it evident he believed himself to be above others, especially me.

The stretch of light and shadows on his face emphasized his strong cheekbones and a chiseled jawline that exuded masculinity. His jawline's sharp and defined contours hinted at intensity, revealing underlying frustration and a potential desire to take control of any situation.

His flawless skin, a canvas of sun-kissed perfection, accentuated his striking features. With a casual messy side part, his hair framed his face with effortless elegance, adding to his overall charm.

Despite the arrogance and anger that occasionally surfaced in his demeanor, there was an undeniable magnetism to his appearance that made it nearly impossible to look away. His aura of handsomeness, combined with these strong emotions, created an enigmatic persona that left others both entranced and wary of his presence.

In short, Duncan's face was an exquisite blend of confidence, charm, and a touch of danger, weirdly making him an unforgettable presence in my life.

"Don't be offended; he always does this charity case thing, where he adopts and brings home homeless people only to have them try to turn psycho and kill him or us. Those victims are now all in either psychiatric care or prison." If he wasn't disrespectful, I could've said he was perfection.

I shrank in my chair, feeling the extreme vulnerability one can ever feel, resulting in my eyes instantly welling up with tears. He and his brother were unlike anyone I'd ever experienced. They were bold and cruel, wearing their attitude shamelessly on their shoulders. Duncan embodied all the traits I'd read about in men: assertive, manipulator, competitive, and aggressive. It was incredibly intimidating sitting with two chairs between us. His physical size, appearance, and dark demeanor added to his overpowering and dominating qualities.

"Are you done?" the master calmly said after Duncan's eyes left me, and I heard my stomach making gurgling sounds, like bubbling water.

"I was just letting her know what she's got herself into," he shrugged at his father nonchalantly, as he grabbed some mysterious dish and captivatingly added it to his plate.

The master sighed, the sound warning me to draw my eyes back from his rude son to him. Our eyes met, and he beckoned at me.

"This is June, and soon she will become a Gutenberg," Colten silently mimicked as his father solemnly introduced me to them, as though this had become a regular thing, too frequent for the boys to have memorized by heart what their father would say.

"Ha! That same line," Colten gently slammed the table in fake excitement. Still, he didn't give me enough chance to see the full view of his face.

It was actually sad. Despite having everything, they had a hole in their midst. My imperfect dinner at the orphanage was a whole lot better than this lavish dinner with so much served food.

"As my wife," the master declared openly.

A deep pang of pain radiated through my entire being. I distantly heard someone exclaim, "What?" but I was going through the disbelief phase, my breathing shallow as the weight of the master's declaration sank into the pit of my stomach.

"Did you just say that?" Colten continued to challenge his father. I could feel Duncan's contempt gaze, but for me, at that moment, time seemed to slow down as I struggled to process the reality of what we had just heard.

"You heard right," the master confirmed casually, signaling with a fork at some aggressive man standing behind him. It was as if there was no air in the room. "Therefore, I will not tolerate any of you crossing her boundaries. Do not try to mess with me," he continued to warn his boys, shoving a pile of oily roasted meat and salad into his moving lips.

The man walked around the long dining table, digging something out from his coat jacket as he stood next to me. The boys watched with horror in their eyes. It was then I was able to see Colten fully, but I wasn't in the right emotional steadiness to analyze him. I had shrunk in my seat, slightly shivering as the man presented a small box and set it on the table before me, next to my untouched meal.

My throat parched. I had a strong urge to withdraw from the scene, to find a safe space where I could gather my thoughts and feelings. My emotions were all over the place, taking over like a whirlwind of unpredictable waves.

"Go on. Open it," the master's voice wasn't loud, but it held enough power to make me jump in my seat.

I nodded, struggling to find a sense of stability since those words left the master's lips. I didn't look up anymore, tears had welled up in my eyes, and my hands trembled with the rush of adrenaline as I forced myself to open the fancy box awaiting my attention.

There was a bracelet lying in the box, but what caught my eye was the huge stoned ring sitting alongside it.

My eyes widened, looking up to meet the master's confident smile. I had a lot to say, but I knew I had to hold back. Then I sensed the huge man who brought the box to me, still standing next to me, towering over me, now lowering his height until he was on his knee.

Fear consumed me. I refused to blink, knowing I would let a tear fall. All I wanted was for the ground to open and swallow me.

This wasn't the plan. I wasn't supposed to get married and be trapped by someone three times my age.

"Please pick up the ring and put it on. It will look good on you," the master commanded.

"f**k this," "Wow!" Colten and Duncan muttered in unison, pushing their chairs back with screeching sounds against the ground before they left.

I left my head downcast and my shoulders slumped. I couldn't endure discrimination while dealing with the pain that I was being forced to carry.

I held my breath in the still, quiet room, only the ticking of the clock was audible, jolting along with my heartbeat.

"Don't mind that," the master said when it was just him and me, with his man now standing over my head. "They are just sentimental about their mother. But I assure you, with time, they will come around to like you." He promised as if that was what mattered, better than realizing that he just collared me to be his wife.

"Is what you said true?" I croaked, pausing to clear my throat, "That you will marry me?"

"Of course, dear." He nodded, seriously focused, putting life into my nightmare. "It's hard finding someone to trust these days. All that women are after is what you have, and it's possible they could be bought with something much bigger than I gave. But you? I've gone to great lengths, just like mining rare gems. You are naive. I can trust you. A man like me, when necessary, needs a woman by his side. We have to choose carefully. I am campaigning for next year's presidential election. I need a wife, I need you." His explanation didn't make much sense, nor did it heal the soreness of losing my freedom. "I know this will stir up talk. I'm 34 years older than you are. My youngest is still three years older than you. But you are of legal age. You will be my ambassador, and very soon you will be the woman of the house. When I become president, you will be my First Lady, the youngest First Lady ever. Everything I have will also be yours."

"Do I have a say in this matter?" I croaked, my voice cracking. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand.

What if the dreams I've had were more than mere illusions? Then what lies ahead for me? Could it lead me down a darker path, turning me into someone I never imagined I'd become? A serial killer? The questions weighed heavily on my mind because so far my nightmare had started to come true.

"I suppose not," he sounded concerned. "But do you have any questions?"

A lot... "Did Reese know about this?" was all that I asked.

"What is there to know? You are mine. And I assure you, many women would kill to be in your position, my darling. You will soon see, how jealous they will get,"

Well, I won't speak for everyone, but he's wrong, I'm sure if any woman had gone through what I've been through, no one would want to be owned, to be hopeless and voiceless.

Not to anger the man, since clearly, he knows how to deal with emotions swiftly and smoothly, I forced a faint smile for reassurance when I insisted, "I just want to know..." I trailed off, taking a breath before closing my mouth.

He looked at me for a moment, seemingly trying to comprehend my persistence, but eventually, he responded, "I filed your purpose in the files."

Okay. That's not a surprise, coming from someone who had never truly loved any of the girls. She knew what she got herself into. She just didn't care.

"Oh...." I swallowed hard, and my exhale sounded rough.

The master seemed to have noticed, grinding his teeth, evident in the sharpness of his jaws with neat stubble covering them. "I promise you will have a lot of fun being married to me."

Though his idea of fun and mine are just so different. But okay.