𝑀𝓎 𝑀𝒶𝒻𝒾𝒶 𝐻𝓊𝓈𝒷𝒶𝓃𝒹

5 - TRANCE

DAMON'S POV:

"I think that's enough Damon," I stood there, my father's sharp gaze bore into me, the tension high in the air, although I already planned to stop my games. "You'll scare her," he warned. "Scare her?" I couldn't help but scoff. "If she can be scared off, then she doesn't belong here."

Has this old man finally lost his mind?

"I'll remind you, because it seems you've forgotten. The only man in the world who can tell me what to do is me," I declared, cracking my knuckles in a show of defiance. The silence that followed was heavy, but I couldn't resist flashing a grin as I motioned towards the table, casually wiping the blood from my split lip.

"Comamos," (let's eat) I stated, switching to Spanish effortlessly, a language that felt more natural to me in moments of tension.

As we settled into the table, my father scratched at his beard, his voice low and steady. "Is Astrid all packed and ready to leave immediately?" I sat directly across from her, her eyes averted as my gaze fixed on her every move.

Astrid... was it?

She was interesting to say the least.

I found myself drawn to her. Her brown locks cascaded around her face, framing her soulful eyes and delicate freckles.

There was a sort of innocence about her that begged to be corrupted.

A kind of innocence that I wanted to pin against the wall and completely ruin.

I wanted to unravel her, to see what secrets lay beneath that facade of innocence.

There had to be more to her.

My father's attempt at small talk brought me back to the present. She nodded in response, taking a starved bite out of her food, her posture oddly proud and confident. "We made sure to have it dropped off before we arrived."

"I see," My father, if I could even call him that, beamed with an expression quite similar to pride, but not. "It's amusing, I would ask how you Enricos got the address of my son's estate before we even disclosed it to you, but I suppose that's a silly thing to ask a fellow former Mafia."

"Verdadero."
(True.)

Mr. Enrico's laughter grated on my nerves. It sounded fake, something I couldn't stand even if a gun was pointed at my head.

I interjected mid conversation. "Clearly no one wants to tell us when the wedding day is." Our fathers chuckled in unison. "We didn't realize that you were so excited." My father cleared his throat. "You have three weeks."

I shot up from the table. "Three weeks... you can NOT fucking be serious right now." I stuffed my hands into my pockets as I tried to process the sudden turn of events.

Fuck.

"You heard us correctly, you both have three weeks to get your lives in order and obviously convince everyone that you are in love."

"Love?" I scoffed. The mention of love brought a scoff to my lips, a bitter reminder of the past. "You know a lot about that huh? You said it yourself, remember? Love is pathetic, useless," I winked at him, "and it makes you weak. Plus, I believe that this is an arranged marriage." I stated, my gaze hard as I locked eyes with my murdering father.

My father's voice thundered in response as he pushed his chair back. "Damon! All of that is in the past now! The marriage of a mafia is very different so yes I would know. Love is a strange deterrent." I rolled my eyes, he was lucky that four years ago I didn't rip his head right off from where he stood. "Stop speaking in riddles when English is an option." My father's jaw clenched, a clear sign of his frustration.

"Hilde, tráeme un bolígrafo."
(Hilde, bring me a pen.)

I turned my gaze at the sound of that name.

As expected of our loyal butler of many years he returned in split seconds, not just with the master pen, but with a contract in hand.

"Aah, just what I needed." My father slammed the agreement down on the table dramatically, signing it first. Clearly acting would have been the better career path for him.

"Whenever you are ready."

Mr. Enrico glanced at his daughter and then back towards the paper, his signature fast and unrepeatable. "Great," he checked his phone. "The food was rather awful, regardless, it seems like we're finished here." Mr. Enrico made his way to the door, veins popping right out of my father's skull. "I know that this is all very sudden but I have more important matters that need my undivided attention."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Mr. Enrico paused halfway out the door, stealing one last glance at his daughter, a flicker of emotion crossing his face as if he wasn't the one forcing her into marriage with a family of killers.

Me.

"See you in three weeks amor."

This was happening, whether I liked it or not.

But as Mr. Enrico made his exit, I couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled in the pit of my stomach. The word he used so casually, 'amor' lingered in the air, a promise of something I wasn't quite sure I was ready for.

Turning back to Astrid, I could see the apprehension in her eyes, a mirror of my own conflicted emotions. She was a puzzle I was desperate to solve, a challenge I couldn't resist.