The King Killer | Mafia dark romance | ✔️

6. Where do I sleep?

Valentina

The place was bustling with people. Moralez family does know how to throw a party. The ammunition and trafficking business they conduct in the garb of hotels and casinos did mint a lot of money. My new family was well respected and feared among every ally who flew in from far and wide to attend a wedding planned in a matter of weeks.

The Moralez clan wanted me to meet every one of them. Amongst all of us, only the youngest Moralez - Agustin seemed to be the only one to enjoy the charade of a reception. His hand always carried a drink and his steps remained completely uncoordinated. He stumbled on almost everyone, including me. Thankfully the loyal dog, Gabriel was present to help me up before I touched the ground.

Although it was not his hand that I expected, it was what I got. El Demonio never even bothered to look when a cry left my mouth before the fall. It was never been clearer, he was doing this for one reason alone; show of power and strength with a woman besides him.

After what Agustin told me about his deceased wife, the information shouldn't come as a surprise. Antonio was an emotionless wreck who wouldn't think twice before a kill. Only the cold-hearted rule the world was aptly said - probably keeping him in mind.

Maria walked me through throng of guests, all of whom ogled at me like an animal at zoo. Actually, more like a sacrificial animal.

I could feel the sear of their pity over my skin. I could see it in their wavered gazes. The fallen look on their faces, knowing my impending fate. What they don't know was the well preserved truth.

I wasn't the scapegoat but the butcher herself.

After an hour of meet and greet, my feet grew twice the size with the pain searing through the back of my calves. I hated heels. All I could care at that moment was to rest my ass and hurl those shoes a mile away.

Maria must have read my limping expressions to suggest the same. Her arms danced in the air, instructing our staff to get me inside the room - the one that faced the beach. 

With the reception running dead, it was the best time for me to escape. The staff was generous with affection, they didn't pity or pride. They treated me like a human. Scapegoat, yet human.

Inside the wedding suit, which looked like a mansion on its own, I pacing myself to the nearest seat and pulling off the straps of my sandals.

Whoever made heels shall rot in hell. 

My feet were sore and bruised with shoe bites and I limped around hoping to apply something cold. The bar was blessed with everything but ice.

"You'd be surprised with the services you receive at a five-star hotel, no matter who you are." A voice echoed behind me. 

I turned to see the man who held that angel voice.

Agustin leaned on the doorframe, shaking his hand which ruffled a bag of ice.

As a parched man in the desert finds an oasis, I walked with extended arms towards him, towards the bag of ice. He shook it again, the sound of ice shavings crushing together was music to my ears.

He walked in before I could reach the door. Placing himself over the couch, he tapped the seat beside. 

I sat still, take the seat and shoving my legs over his lap. 

Don't judge me. He asked for it.

His eyebrows hooked but lasted only for a second. It soon faded with his classic smirk. 

Agustin placed the pouch over my bruised feet, padding it at the sore spot. 

I closed my eyes and me head floated backwards. The cold spikes hit over my skin, rejuvenating life back into my body.