The Devil Wears Red | Mafia Romance |

07| Getting Yelled At and Laid

Bentleys POV:

What was her dream?

"I'd like be please everyone who has helped me in my life," she said quietly, wondering if that was the truth. It felt like the truth. She did want to please everyone. Antonio saved her when she was a young ten year old kid, shaking and beaten, she'd could at least return to favor.

Alex nodded his head slowly. "Why are those people important for you to want their validation?" He asked.

"It's not for validation," she tells him. "I owe them a debt, and I believe pleasing them will help me pay it." Maybe it was the wrong answer, she thought. Alex blinked slowly at her, and she felt her heart beat faster. His bright blue eyes were fixated on her, and she was never one for eye contact—so she down casted her head.

She felt her stomach knot in frustration, something that has been happening since she was little; whenever she overthinks. Her breathing will quicken and her stomach begins to hurt—and she feels if she doesn't punch or break something it won't go away.

"I got a cupcake," Alex said, which brought her breathing to a normal pace. Her hand was shaking, as she turned to him to smile at the jester. "Here." He began to split the cupcake in half, giving her the noticeably bigger piece.

She gave him a quiet thanks, as she took a bite and returned to boring small talk. They talked about school, and college, and work. Alex told her he had applied to a couple of local colleges and was doing their online programs.

Bentley had used her cover story whenever she met normal people. She told him she just graduated high school and was taking a gap year while she found where she wanted to go next year.

He kept nodding, listening tentatively to all her words. He asked her follow up questions, and new questions, and discussions for debate—and she was loving every minute of it. She wasn't used to people talking to her and actually listening.

But it hurt a little. Because none of the words were true. He was listening to a false story about a false person. Bentley wasn't her real name, it was a given name she gave herself. Bentley wasn't someone who was taking a gap year and loved her high school; she never even made it past fourth grade.

Bentley Russo, most definitely doesn't love puppies and her best friend Montana that she met in high school through her automotive club. She was Devyn Caitlyn Russo, skilled assassin and apart of one of the largest mafias in the world. But he didn't know that. He couldn't.

Alex, sadly, was only refrained to the fake and fabricated parts of her life. The pretty and the precious, not the bad and the ugly.

"I think it's getting late," she told him, realizing the time had passed hours while they talked on the trunk of her Buick. "I snuck out, so I don't want my mom or dad to check on me and not see that I'm in my room," she joked, laughing slightly.

Instead of it being her dad, it would be one of the many guards that checked everyone's room at night to make sure they weren't murdered in their sleep. If they don't see her in her room, especially without Antonio or Nikolai knowing she left, everyone would lose their shit.

Alex laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Can I drive you home or something?" He asked.

"Kinda have my own car," she giggled, smiling at how cute his efforts were.