Loved by the Mafia Bosses | RE-WRITING!!!

𝟙 | 𝔸 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕖

| 𝓑𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓴𝓵𝔂𝓷 𝓗𝓪𝔂𝔀𝓸𝓸𝓭 |

The only sound that could be heard in my living room was the sound of the buttons of the pc getting pressed, as I typed in the words of the long e-mail I had to write. I had to send some files and documents to my current client. He had been framed for murder, but I fought for his innocence. 

After quite a lot of time, I was finally done writing it, and pressed the send button. With a relieved sigh I leaned back on my couch and stretched my arms above me. That was a damn good stretch. I clapped my pc shut, and then got up from the couch, walking into the kitchen. I had a rather big house - at least big for one person - and sometimes it could make you feel lonely. But only sometimes. I also enjoyed solitude. Perhaps I should buy me a pet? Probably.

The kitchen was mostly dark colored, as I liked the warm vibe the dark wood gave off, that all the cabinets and shelves were made of. Other than that, there were a lot of black quartz. I made my way to the counter, and opened one of the cabinets above, taking down a glass. I filled it with cold water, and then sat down by the kitchen island made of black quartz. I took a sip, enjoying the refreshing feeling that the water gave my dry throat.

I took my phone up from the back pocket of my pants, and turned it on, taking another sip. As expected, Victoria had been spamming me with messages and calls. I always put my phone on silent and do not disturb whenever I worked, because Victoria seemed to never really care that I was busy. She was always inviting me to some party at some club with some weird ass friends she had.

I always declined. I was always busy. She said I was too stressed, and that I would die of it one day. She's rather dramatic, but part of it is true. I am quite stressed. But that's to be expected - I've only been a lawyer for three years, yet I already have a whole bunch of clients. What can I say? I'm damn good at my job. 

I knew I should probably answer her now, as I didn't want to deal with her coming knocking at my door late at night, drunk or high, and then getting mad at me for not answering. She wasn't a bad person, nor a bad friend. She was my very bestfriend, and we have stuck together through thick and thin, despite being complete opposites. 

She worked as both waitress, and sometimes bartender, at a nightclub. It was a job that fitted her personality well. Talkative, fun, wild. A very social young woman. 

I called her, deciding it was best to just get it over with. It took a few seconds before she answered. "Hellooo? Who is it?" Her voice asked, sounding both confused and amused.  I could hear noise in the background, voices. Laughing. She was probably out partying.

"It's me, Brook." I replied, rolling my eyes. Of course she couldn't see it, but sometimes I really questioned how me and her became friends. Like, she must have seen my name on her screen, so why the hell ask?

"Ohhhh! Right! Why aren't you here, Brook?" She then asked, now sounding judgemental. Now I was the confused one. I frowned. "What do you mean? I've been working." I replied, and I could almost see her, in my mind, rolling her eyes at me.

"Well of course you were, nothing new in that, but you promised me yesterday that you would come to a party with me tonight." 

"What? No. I am pretty damn sure I didn't."

"You did! Check our texts from yesterday," She then commanded, and I did as told. I scrolled past the hundreds of texts she had sent me while I had been working today, all the way back to yesterday. There it was.