𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝒻𝒾𝒶 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

4 - MEETING YOU

ASTRID'S POV:

"Astrid," My father's voice boomed, waking me up with his heavy Spanish accent.

"Sí..?" I groaned, barely even able to open my own eyes. "What the hell are you doing? Get out of that bed! If you are to marry into another host family you need to learn to be more disciplined. I refuse to get there late Astrid!"

"Is that so?" I yawned, hoping it would pass on.

"Well maybe you should have thought about all that before you decided to marry me off right? Why don't you just call the engagement off? Problem solved." My father scowled. "Don't piss me off, I don't have time for your games this morning. You have 30 minutes."

That tone... I rolled my eyes. It was one of those days, and I knew better. "Claro."

He slammed my door shut, and with a thump his loud footsteps echoed down the hallway, letting me know that he was gone and by the time he returned I should be dressed and ready to go.

And I was.

~

I walked in through the double doors of the Barista family estate, following closely behind my father. Somewhere in my heart I wished everything about my life was just some silly I dream I couldn't seem to wake up from.

"Welcome... Astrid."

It was not.

Dismissing my father, Mr. Barista stared almost through me, like he was analyzing my every move, and I hated it, I hated him.

That kind of pressure was sickening.

"I trust your father has told you about the conditions of your stay?" My eyebrow raised itself. "Conditions? Is there something I should know?" I glanced up at my father, but instead his eyes found Mr. Baristas.

"I'm afraid," he rolled up his sleeves, "those conditions will not be met amigo." Mr. Barista stood there expectantly, his eyebrow raised.

"Astrid es mi hija."
(Astrid is my daughter.)

He scratched his hairy chin, keeping his strong green eyed gaze as I would expect of a former mafia. "Fine. You owe me a big one Enrico."

After a second of dead silence he finally broke out into a laugh, smacking my father on the back like they were old friends. "Well let's save the rest of the introductions for breakfast shall we?"

My father sat down, dying to change the subject but I wouldn't let him. "Papi, what conditions is he talking about?" "Astrid it isn't any of your-"

Staring directly into his eyes I gave him the same cold stare I've learned so well from him over the years. "I said. What. Conditions." "Well..." clearing his throat, my father attempted an answer right before his watch clicked.

It was 9:00 am.

Shit.

Here comes the time police.

I rolled my eyes while he spoke.

"Speaking of our "arrangements" Mr. Barista, where is your son?" My father continued. "I find it quite odd we were expected at 9 sharp to an event where all the hosts are not even here..."

I glanced up at the clock. 9:01.

"Estoy aquí."
(I'm here.)

Like a scene from a soap opera, my eyes unconsciously shifted, tracing this figure from top to bottom, imagining how good it would look on top of me. Those huge muscles busting out of his shirt, his overwhelming height, perfect jawline, and even the way his dark curls hung just barely over his eyes. He met my gaze.

How could someone's eyes look so perfectly beautiful and dangerous at the same time?

His long lashes made his eyes appear almost innocent, almost as if there wasnt a cold intensity displayed through them, but I knew better.

Hot would be an understatement.

His father went over and fixed his loose tie. "It's about time you came. We've been waiting."

"Good." He snorted.

His father gritted his teeth, making me only want to observe him more closely.

Shit, my knees practically folded at the raspiness of his voice, almost as if he was growling at me. Lord even the way he stood was sexy, like he owned the whole goddamn room.

A tattoo sat right below his chin, so much so that I only noticed it when he tilted his head to the side. "Damon," his father gestured. "Why don't you take a seat." Almost completely ignoring his words, Damon licked his lips, holding my gaze.

So this is him.

The man my father had no real information on.

The ghost mafia.

His emerald eyes were lit with a kind of cold intensity I'd seen before, but where? My soon to be husband... Finally, he turned to my father, leaving me briefly speechless. "Does she speak?" ...Is a complete jerk!

He took a slow step towards me. "Well, are you gonna say something or just keep staring."

I forced a cough down my throat. "You're funny, hilarious actually. What do you want me to say? Hello my betrothed? How has your day been treating you? Take a hike jackass."

"Astrid.", my father's voice deepened.

"No", Damon's eyes widened and he held a hand out in front of my father, blocking him as a smirk tugged at his lips. "She's feisty, I like that, a lot. But...bad girls need punishment don't you think?" He took another step towards me.

"Maybe I wasn't clear." I threw up a middle finger at him, enraging my father.

"ASTRID!"

My father made the mistake of marrying me off, because it meant that I no longer belonged to him, I was no longer his property, nothing he said had any control over me.

Damon drew in a sharp breath, right as our faces were almost touching. His breath leaving me with a faint scent of vanilla. "Once this woman realizes who the fuck she's talking to, I'm sure she'll come to her senses." I gritted my teeth.

What arrogance.

He was the epitome of a rebel.

Immaculate presence, tattoos and a raspy voice that turned me on so damn much.

Astrid, snap out of it.

He took an impossible step closer to me.

"Astrid," my eyes rolled to the back of my head at the sound of my name. "I know you. You were first in your year, an only born child who never caused your daddy any problems."

His smirk left his face. "Yeah," his hand made way to my hips, "maybe you are some sexy badass, but you know what you also are?" He tilts my chin up with his finger and rubs his thumb across my jawline. "You're a good girl."

My body freezes, a shiver running down my spine from the way that word rolled off of his tongue.

I break eye contact and smack his hand down, finally coming back to my senses.

He smirks. "So don't make me do anything you will regret. Because trust me," he finds my gaze. "I have a lot of ideas."

"W-Whatever."

Boldly, I tried walking away from him but instead his huge hands clasped around my arm.

"¿Ya has recobrado el sentido?"
(Have you come to your senses yet?)

I barely even flinched, but my brain reacted. No guy would dare touch me, knowing I was the mafias daughter... but him.

"No. You wish!"

His emerald eyes glistened.

"Wish?

I don't wish.

I demand.

And you obey."