Misery Business

Chapter 5: City of angels

'I sold my soul to the devil for designer, they said go to hell but I told em I don't wanna, if you know me well then you know that I ain't goin cause, I don't wanna, I don't wanna, I don't wanna die'

"What?" I asked in defeat. I was never going to get away from the endless need to be The Reaper.

"How much do you know about the mafia lifestyle?" He ignored me by asking his own question as he leaned against the desk before me.

"You deal, you sell, you kill, you drink, you fuck, you blackmail, you rely on bloodlines. That's about it. Oh, and you're stupid rich." I shrugged.

"There is a list of customs that a man must go through before becoming the Don. One, he must be at least 18. Two, he must be the oldest son of the last Don, or the oldest male of the family bloodline if the Don does not have a fit male heir. Three, the new Don must have already had his first solo kill. It's a sign of independence, power, and strength. Finally, he must have a wife." He explained. I gave him an odd look as he spoke.

"And this is important to me because?" I pushed.

"I might already have the title of Don, but I have yet to complete the final of the criteria which means I cannot fully claim that title as Don." He finished.

"So you want me to find you a mafia wife? You need The Reaper to track down a lady for you to marry? I told you I don't take the topic of women lightly and this all seems like quite the inconvenience so I'm gonna have to charge you extra. This is looking like a hefty 30k kinda contract, De Rossi. Unless of course, you're calling this our get even contract and I'm being scammed to do this free of charge. That's low dude, I have rent to pay." I rambled. He chuckled while moving closer to where I sat.

"I'm not asking you to go fetch me a wife." He denied my offer and now stood directly in front of me.

"Then how am I supposed to help you?" I scoffed.

"I want you to be my wife."

I couldn't stop myself. I burst out laughing and had to wipe tears from my eyes. He couldn't possibly be serious. As I finally regained my ability to breath I noticed that he was rigid and held a mix of anger and annoyance in his eyes. My smile immediately dropped.

"Oh, you're serious?" I realized.

"Why would I be joking?" He snapped impatiently.

"Buddy, we cannot get married. In the last hour alone we have threatened to kill one another, multiple times. This will not work." I reminded him.

"I'm being serious with you, Carson." He rolled his eyes. That made me mad. I stood up from my chair quickly and got in his face as much as I could with our height difference.

"Look, De Rossi. I am not the marrying type and I sure as hell am far from compatible with a man like you. I said I would put a knife in your throat and that threat still stands. There is no way we are going to work. Not a chance in hell, find a whiny, rich, mafia daughter bitch to marry instead. This is one contract I will not be taking." I yelled.

"If you would just sit down and listen to the logic I have in this contract, please. Can you just use your mind for once and think before acting on impulse as you so often do?" He fought back. He huffed and took a step back from him as he walked back to his desk chair and sunk into it.

"Please, enlighten me with your rationale." I sneered.

"I need a wife and I am not about to sign over my last name to some Capo's snobby daughter who expects my money and affection whilst she bitches and whines about not having enough maids in the mansion. I don't do basic bitches." He started.