BOOK 1
Veronica Garcia, a smart and beautiful fifteen-year-old, had endured enough of her stepfather's abuse. One fateful night, during his drunken rage, she seized her chance to escape, fleeing to her abuelo's mansion for solace. However, her newfo...
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Angelo's POV
There is an uproar. A wild, predatory crowd. I hear the Italians, shouting and hollering in approval at fathers speech.
I can't believe I even came. I don't understand why father told me to come, but I had to. I have no reason to be here.
Okay, maybe I do. Well, a lot of reasons.
I thrive on chaos and darkness, spreading fear and destruction wherever I go, I have a twisted pleasure in causing pain and suffering. And if nobody hates you, nobody knows you. I'm not proud of everything I did, but I'm pretty sure I'll do it all again.
"Angelo, can I just have one drink? Please?" My youngest brother asked.
"No, Enzo. You know the rules."
Enzo groans, stomping his feet like a little child, "Just one. Pretty please."
I just roll my eyes and look over to father.
He is talking to Roman Petrov.
Hm.
Enzo and Dante start bickering and I grab my glass of whiskey and drink all of it in one go. "Both of you shut up," I snap, pouring more whiskey.
They both shut up for once.
Classical music starts to play and people start dancing with their partners on the dance floor.
I notice Roman slithering his way from father, I stare at him until he finally disappears on the balcony
This is going to be a long night.
Sighing, I lean back in my chair.
Father is roaming around the ballroom talking to members of the Mafia.
Marco and Carlos are glaring at anyone who even glimpse at them.
And Dante and Enzo are sitting in front of each other, although I can still see the pair lightly kicking each other.
Dickheads
My eyes are trailing everywhere hoping for something interesting to happen, Until i see a woman wearing a black velvet dress walking away from the balcony, and walking past us, with a confident smirk on her face.
Although, I'm not the only one looking at her. Everyone else is looking at her. She holds so much confidence and dignity as she walks. Who wouldn't look at her?
But she seems too familiar. But I don't know where I would've seen her from.
For a split second, she turns her head and her familiar blue eyes meet mine.
Then she walks into the big crowd, disappearing from my sight.
Abruptly, I stand up, searching the room with my eyes trying to find her again.
