"I was not aware you needed repetition, darling. Okay, I'll say it more slowly. I, Xante Alessandro Lucas Deliano, want you, my delightful wife, the love of my life, Dr. Chidinma Adaobi Deliano, to place that delicious pussy that I love to devour, o...
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A WEEK LATER
The air was tinged with blood and desperation within the lucidly dark cellar. This was a place no one dared to trespass within, hidden underneath poisonous plants, rabid dogs and armed men. Bleak and desolate, a place of toxic nightmares with blood-curdling screams.
This was Alessandro's Playroom.
The last time Xante was here, he had just turned 19, and while partying was important to him, so was being a Consigliere. The last time Xante was here, Alessandro rained torment both mentally and physically.
He took a couple more confident steps, feeling Alessandro's demonic chants for blood louden with every step. Ever since he received the text from Omarion, Xante's sleek car deviated from the direction of his home, where the silence of his empty home was his never-leaving company. His phone buzzed in his pocket and without peeking, Xante knew it was Chidinma calling, wondering where he and the custom cheesecake she was craving went.
"Good, the cazzo's inside," Omarion said, a sadistic grin plastered on his face as he gestured to the barred metal door to his left. He too was dressed to the nines, with a white button-up, slacks and dress shoes. The door was filthy with grime and mould. Well, the entire place was filthy. Maybe that was what torture and absent care did to a cellar.
Xante moved towards the door, rolling his sleeves over his tatted arms, his irises lightening as Alessandro prepared for his favourite pastime. But, before he could push the door open, his gaze roamed his brother once more in suspicion.
"You look nice. Any special occasion?"
Omarion was black. That was a fact that Xante had been aware of since he arrived at their door over 20 years ago. This being, Xante could have sworn he was seeing blood rushing to his dark, bearded cheeks and ears.
This fool was blushing.
"A date, actually. With Fatima."
All Xante did in response was a slow brow raise and Omarion kissed his teeth and defended sharply, "Yo, how about you mind the business that pays you, 'kay? It's just a first date."
"I just have one question." Xante said emotionlessly, "Where exactly do you see this going? Because you never go on dates, even first ones. So, obviously you like her enough to break your no date rule. And she's Muslim."
Omarion's little smile slowly dropped and he took a deep breath, shrugging in an attempt to keep his cool. But, as someone who could read minds, Xante knew that Omarion might even be in love with her. "Look I don't know, but I do like her. A lot."
"I just don't want you to be hurt at the end, that's all,"
Even though Omarion tried so much to hide it, the fool was a lover boy through and through. He fell hard and when the inevitable heartbreak came, he shrugged it off with jokes, a smirk, and weed.
