How we met... (Helluvaboss)

|The Arrangement|

(I'm going to try and keep these chapters short, because of how long these paragraphs are going to be)

Warning:
Mature themes
Blood/Gore
Abuse

An imp is currently sitting on an elegant armchair while smoking from a cigar. “I suppose ya want to  know why you're here.”

Wyvern, a strangely colored...pure white imp looks the other mob boss down, his face remaining as stoic as theirs. “I can’t afford the luxury of wasting my time playing nice with you. Cut the bullshit. So…let’s get to it. What are we discussing?”
He paused, waiting for Crimson's response.

Crimson’s eyes narrowed.
"I want something that's yours."
The imp leans forward, eyes cold as ice. "I want you to let me marry your daughter."

The older mob boss raised his eyebrows curiously, intertwining his fingers together as he sat up.
"Excuse me?"
His voice was cold, calculated...and full of authority.

"I want your daughter's hand. I want to marry her. Can I be any more clear?"
He leans even closer, his grin becoming even more frightening.*
"Because, if the next words out of your mouth aren't 'yes,' this meeting is over forever."

Wyvern smirks, a cruel glint in his eyes. "You get power over my business, a connection to the largest mafia ring in Hell. And i make you richer." His eyes flicker.
"And you marry my daughter." He paused again. "We both know I can't just let you do that, without getting a cut."

Crimson pauses, taking a long drag from his cigar, a sly expression coming across his face. "So you DO have some smarts after all. Very well. You drive a hard bargain. What do you want in return for your daughter?"
He leans back, twirling the cigar in the corner of his mouth.

Wyverns smile only gets wider.
"Half and half. My gang takes half your profits, and you take half of mine." His eyes narrow. His voice becomes even colder.

Crimson ponders for a moment, and finally nods. "That seems...fair...enough." He tosses the cigar onto the table, burning a small indentation into the center.
"We have a deal. I get to marry your daughter...and you get half of my profits." He reaches out his hand to shake.

Wyvern shakes Crimson's hand. His hand is cold, freezing cold, and very firm...
"Oh, and Crimson..."

"Yes?"
Crimson looks up, his eyes blazing in anticipation.

"If anything happens to my little girl, I won't be afraid to eliminate this family. Don't break her precious heart." He squeezes Crimson's hand even tighter for a moment, before finally letting go and retracting his arm.

Crimson smiles. "I wouldn't dare to break your girl's heart. Especially not if she is about to become my wife." His gold tooth glistens as the mafia boss raises his cigar. "A wise decision. Our business arrangement will go swimmingly."

"Good, I wouldn't want our little 'arrangement,' to end with carnage." Wyvern stood up, dusting himself off...before nodding at Crimson.

The mafia boss nodded back, a twisted grin forming across his face. "I'll be seeing you, Wyvern. Tell your daughter I'll come to visit. And make sure to tell her she doesn't have a choice in this."

"Trust me, she'll know."
A small smirk curved across the older imps face, before he promptly left the lavish estate.

Crimson takes a long, slow breath. He stands up, and paces around the opulent room. "Ahh...the power."
He chuckles softly, turning towards the window. "What wonders this arrangement shall bring...."