Boss of All Bosses

Aliyana

“I ordered two, the other one is going to be a couple of weeks, so in the meantime, you have to share. It’s a good thing, we’ll be in Seattle for the next few weeks.” His face is pensive as he regards us. I am smiling and thrilled, but I admit I am not as crazy about it as my sister. Material things are important to me; however, I won't lose sleep if I don't have it. Guilia will.

She is the poster cover for Mafia Princess. She wants it, she must get it.

Her teeth are on full display as she remains smiling, but stops jumping around when Filippo lets us go. The sun is so bright out today that it reflects directly onto the dream machine that has cost my brother a dent in the bank. I would never waste my money like he does. Every cent would be well spent.

“I love you like fifty times more now,” Guilia muses, clapping her hands together. 

“Only fifty?” My brother asks in a teasing voice. It baffles me that our men can be so normal and playful with us but so deadly to the ones who cross them. 

I have seen the temper of our men. It scares the crap out of me that one day I might get the end of that deadly temper. My secrets have guaranteed that.

Guilia moves toward the car. Her hand touching the bonnet as if it were a child. I remain standing next to Filippo, watching her.

She spins to face us, one step closer to where I am currently standing to the left.

“So,” She says as she comes closer.

One second Guilia is smiling wide, next she is losing her balance, not seeing Serena’s skateboard and going down.

“Guilia,” I scream, jerking my body toward her as she slips.

Someone stops her face plant just in time as I let out a shrill scream, digging my blunt fingertips into my brother's arm when he grabs hold of my waist, wrapping me into his chest.

Guilia makes a funny noise, which has me releasing my claws from my brother's arm. Staring up into my brothers' now straight face, my shock wanes to a keen curiosity. Any playfulness in my brother's mood now brimmed with concern. 

I turn, hesitant to look at my sister as the sun shines on this beautiful Saturday. I feel a knot bury itself within my belly. Why? How? I can't say, yet, when I turn to see my sister and the man who has his arm around her waist, there is one emotion I can say that is dominant right now, FEAR.

His black gaze levels with my fearful one. Only his is filled with a storm that has been brewing since before he was born. 

Who is this man?

He has light lines around his eyes and forehead, and a small crease in between his brows. His face is carved from stone. My fingers itch for my paintbrush to copy the curve of his jawline, the indent just beneath his chin. His face is harsh, and oh, what a primal view it will make mirrored on my canvas.