TRAPPED BY THE MAFIA II: MARIANA'S STORY

My life is fucked.

There’s a certainty that the devil is clapping and laughing in pride, rejoicing over what I’ve become—a slave to his evilness.

It’s laughable how I’m supposed to be in control of my life, yet, I’ve opened myself up to the dirtiness and suffering of humanity, pushing my body to a point of eruption with self destruction.

The heel of my boots knock against the tiled floor, the sound bouncing off the walls in echoes. I leisurely stride into the large living room of my parent’s manor with a bottle of scotch in one hand, and in another, between my index and middle finger, a joint.

My parents took up half of the estate, building their manor and I sometimes wonder what they do with such a large space when it’s just the two of them. A few helps included.

“Where are they?” I ask the maid who comes to usher me in. But instead of giving me an immediate answer, she takes her time, judging my outfit, her disgust laced eyes roaming my barely covered body from head to toe.

Finally, a reluctant reply breezes through her lips. “In the office.”

I swear, I’m a second away from smacking this fucking bitch across the face.

“Excuse me?” I furrow my brows at her, contorting my face in displeasure. The maid is quick to fearfully lower her gaze with a clear of her throat.

“The Don and his wife are in the office, ma’am.” She gives a more satisfying answer and I scoff at how easily I can have some of the disrespectful maids pissing their pants in fear.

I’m not a bitch and I definitely don’t act bratty towards people, especially people who do not deserve it. But respect is reciprocal and the moment I sense even an atom of disrespect from anyone, I’ll be sure to give them back a thousand folds of disrespect.

And probably put a bullet in their head.

“Is my brother here?” I ask, lighting up my joint, dragging a mouthful of smoke.

Tipping my head back, a puff of smoke escapes my mouth while I patiently await the maid’s answer.

“Yes ma’am.” She answers.

I don’t say another word to her. Humming absentmindedly, I sway my hips side to side, making my way to the home office—which is frustratingly far from the living room.

“Mariano! Do you realize today is our birthday? Why have you chosen to be in the company of these old, boring people?!” I holler playfully, pushing open the office door.

I head straight to where my brother is seated and throw myself on him.

My brother, my life.

We turn twenty five today, and yet, our relationship as siblings and as friends seem to become stronger every passing year.

I cannot be more thankful.

It makes both my parents happy to see their children have such a great relationship, especially my mother, considering how sour her relationship with her sister was.

So, I’m glad that I at least bring something to the table, even if that something is as little as having a great relationship with my brother.

“All our friends are already arriving for the party at the pool house and the ladies are going crazy in anticipation, especially Leah.” I wink at him and a blush creeps up on his cheeks. He nudges me with his shoulder, shamefully burying his head into my neck to hide his face and muffle his giggle.

Who would’ve thought that my brother who’s exactly like my father—cold, impulsive, inhumane, and everyone’s terror, would one day become so weak in the knees for a girl who barely notices his presence.

“Hello to you too, Mariana,” mother chirps in.

I chuckle, whipping my head around to face her and mio padre. My smile is immediately replaced with a frown when I find mio padre’s eyes raging in anger as they rake my body from head to toe, burning every inch of my skin.

Father always has had a certain kind of resentment toward my choice of clothing—practically my whole life—because he thinks I’ve grown up to be something he never expected.

He thinks me irresponsible and he has his reasons. Reasons I very well understand, considering how I dropped out of school, couldn’t finish my combat training, dress up like a whore, and party like an animal. And oh, I’m always high out of my mind.

Great motives for hate or resentment if you ask me.

Whatever.

Moving on.

“How are you, my sweet mother? Hello father,” I thin my lips. Mamá chuckles at the silent battle going on between I and daddy dearest.

“Happy birthday my princess and my prince! You both are so grown up now. . .I cannot believe I made you both.” She groans, throwing her head back while father whispers a few words into her ear.

And I’m certain they’re very inappropriate words.

The old man has no filter.

“Happy birthday,” father holds my stare for a long minutes before clearing his throat and continuing, “firecracker.”

I smile at him. “Thank you, Papá.”

He nods tightly.

“Could you wait outside? We have a guest in case you haven’t noticed.” Mariano breaks the awkward silence in the room.

I did notice the extremely sexy man when I walked in, but I really do not care.

I shift my gaze to the man sitting by the corner, my eyes moving rapidly as I look him up and down, making sure to shoot him a disrespectful glare, so that he knows I do not give a toss about him.

Without as much as acknowledging the man’s presence, I take out my lighter and flick it on while making a declaration in excitement. “Let us sing the birthday song and blow out the light together just like we’ve always done!”

Mother and father enthusiastically agree with a hum.

They both sing the birthday song while I and Mariano bob our heads to the rhythm, our lips stretched into an ear to ear grin. The other man however has this look of confusion plastered across his face.

More like disgust, as though he hasn’t ever experienced this sort of family bonding in his life.

His loss.

My father would’ve been that way but mother did a great job at taming him.

“Happy birthday, fratello. Te amo.”

“Happy birthday, sorella. Te amo.”

Mariano and I blow out the light and I immediately rush out of the room but not before telling him that he has less than ten minutes to get to the party.

And oh. . .

“I’m sorry, mother, I think I might have blown up your motorbike garage.”

Oh shit.

Here comes the fury.

“Mariana Denaro!” She bellows, coming after me at full speed. “You’re so done!”

I abruptly halt my movement, an amused chuckle rumbling against my chest. I turn to face mamá with a smile, but my amusement is replaced with seriousness when I see how disturbed she looks.

Come on, mother, you have the money. What might be wrong?

“Is this funny to you?” She questions, nose flaring, chest rising and falling, fists clenched by her sides. “I asked a question, Mariana! Is this funny to you?”

“Mother. . .I—” she cuts me off.

“You what?” She inhales a shaky breath, exhaling raggedly through slightly parted lips. “This is not the end of this but I’ll let it go for today just because it is your birthday and I wouldn’t want to cut your happiness short. But after today, you’re grounded!”

I scoff unbelievably. “I’m twenty five. You cannot ground me.”

“To me you’re still a child and your irresponsibility shows it!” She yells. Mio padre appears behind her, both hands resting on her shoulders rubbing in a to and from motion to help calm her down.

“Why are you so irresponsible and careless, Mariana? Don’t you get tired? Do you not see how I feel when people make comments about how much of a bad job I did raising you? Talk about twenty five.” She scoffs, her teeth sinking viciously into her bottom lip.

I stare into Mamá’s orbs bewildered. Enraged that she could say such things about me.

My eyes dart from my mother, to my father who’s glaring daggers at me, to my brother who’s looking at me pitifully, to the other stranger who has this smug smile plastered across his lips, and then back to my mother.

With a nod of my head, I mutter, “I see, mother. But you of all people should know better than to refer to me as irresponsible. Maybe we should go over the list of things. . .” my lips tremble, “the sacrifices I’ve made for—”

“Mariana!” Mother bellows in warning.

Father’s brows furrow, his eyes moving between his wife and I, perhaps in wonder of what secrets exist between us.

Silence.

More silence.

“Go attend your party and make sure not to blow up the property.” Father finally breaks the silence, “Mariano, you can leave with her and make sure to keep her in check.”

Mariano offers him a tight nod.

“Come on, princess. Don’t stress yourself so much,” father tells mother as he walks her back into the office.

“You little—” Mariano goes to speak but I flip him off and begin taking long strides until I’m out of the building.

Remind me never to visit my parents on my birthday.

Fucking cunts.

But my rage is replaced with the eagerness to party and go wild when I arrive at the pool house to find it filled with party animals.

Let’s have fun, shall we?