How does it feel to fall in love with a mafia?
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Silvio Moretti, a respectable mob captain, rose to ranks by becoming the boss's favorite. How laughable.
Rumors skittered around the organization.
Likely that the face of Silvio is also well-known to be the whore of the South. The South being their human trafficking business.
It's also said he's a real-life incubus who lures victims into their dirty desires, like preparing raw meat into a ready-made-meal in the market.
How come this whore would have the will of the dead mafia boss? There's only one conclusion, and it's pretty straightforward for one to think. For a whore who rose exponentially to the top, how exactly could he do that?
A man guffawed while holding their bloating stomach, his other big hairy hand gripped the giant mug full of liquor, "That bitch crawled up all the way to the dead man's chambers with his legs spread! How else?!" The rouge faced man continued to bellow with his stomach tightening. But the other three facing the table opposite the big-bellied mob weren't laughing. Because they were the underlings of the supposed heir and the only nephew of the late mafia boss, their expressions were furious and serious.
They were brothers, but so easily distinguishable that one could only wonder what their parents looked like to produce such oddly mismatched yet equally sketchy sons.
One was ogre-ish, the middle more ordinary yet sinister, and the youngest with dominant bratty features.
Not before long, the Ogre and the Sinister pair had their shoulders grasped heavily.
The man behind them split some distance between them before sitting like an invited guest. With a simple charming grin he raved as he spoke, "Ah, what is the name of the striking person you're describing? I'm interested."
But the moment he joined the table the men no longer moved. His familiar charming smile was on display, though insiders knew it was anything but an innocent, alluring arch of cherry lips. There was always something that followed it.
"Ah...what's wrong? Why don't you continue who this 'whore of the south' is?" The men had buckets of cold sweat by now, as the pair felt fingers dig deeper on their shoulders.
Unable to put up much longer, the sinister one groaned lightly.
This didn't escape Silvio's ears as he turned his gaze to him, his smirk consistent.
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Aslan Romano looked down at his idiotic underlings. His menacing aura could penetrate through their skull.
Just now, Silvio came to his doorstep. He felt happy for a moment thinking the man had finally appreciated his advances, that he could in fact give his throne to him if he so wished.
Just when he was about to frolic his way into the chick pants, three faces with varying depressing colors soon appeared, decorating their already mundane faces into an eyesore. Feeling embarrassed for his men, he gazed sheepishly towards his lover.
Silvio looked at him quietly before Aslan managed to ask what had transpired. With one look, he froze. The scarlet orbs gleamed from the moonlight making the distaste behind it more apparent.
Being directed with it, something inside Aslan twisted and his voice faltered. He chose wisely not to speak more, only uttering a simple apology at last.
The warm, creamy, and comforting scent wove through the air as soon as Silvio turned his back, obviously impatient to leave.
Aslan whiffed the precious scent while he frowned, wondering to himself; if he had just told Silvio the truth for a long time, then maybe their relationship wouldn't be so ridden with misunderstandings.
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Once again, upon meeting Aslan's eyes, Silvio's chest was pumping uncontrollably. He could not control his heart, but he could at least control his actions.
Silvio's reasons were simple. It was all because of Aslan's stupid conclusion: if he can make him the King in the organization,he would become satisfied in staying with him forever. For the nth fucking time, Silvio wanted to be looked up upon but that didn't mean he wanted to stay in a position where the majority didn't recognize him worthy.
Aslan knew that and was aware he would definitely reject the offer which meant the position would remain to Aslan. Of course, Silvio was a man with a bundle of pride of his own, even if he couldn't become the King, why would he give it back so willingly? Besides just thinking about Aslan proposing this like nothing, how could he not be so livid?
It pissed him off so much that every time he came across those damn rabid talking dogs he'd beat them up. And coming across the three loyal dogs of his made him put all of his desire to beat Aslan up to them.
Even worse, he knew the man would kneel for him as he pleases. Just thinking about it pissed him off more that a deeper shade popped up over the swollen area in the bratty dog's face.
Back to the present, Silvio came back to his chambers. The south manor belonged to him and he had a fair amount of people completely loyal to him. Although it was true that he was in charge of handling human trafficking, and a lot of sexual assaulting people end up following him, his people would beat them into a pulp before sending them either on the black market or in some other befitting place. All of which was based on the person's personal records.
As for his rumors as a whore... Would he blame his looks forever when numerous men lusts over him and talk shit about him just because he was out of their reach? Unfortunately, the rumors had toppled over the new rumor of him ascending as the mafia boss.
But nevermind that, he was more bothered about one thing.
Silvio went into the bathroom opening the faucet to fill the bathtub with warm water. As part of his routine, he added his favorite bath product, its fragrance carrying notes of coconut, vanilla, and amber.
This was the reason Aslan obsessed over smelling him every time they did it. But now, simply being enveloped by the scent made him reminisce about the past.
At times, his emotion would stir in melancholy, but right now, he was still slightly irritated. Silvio had expected the man to express many things to him since he forcefully broken their relationship.
Recalling Aslan's expression as he apologized, he could appreciate how tamed he looked but the man gave up too soon. He brushed his hair back while exhaling in frustration.
The slender smooth legs first dipped into the warm water, stepping in completely to submerge himself. Silvio hunched over to rub his forehead, puffing out a mutter, "Stupid Aslan."
In short, Falling in Love with a Mafia is headache inducing. Not recommended. Unless you're a baddie completely aware of deserving nothing less than a boss man who's more than willing to risk everything for you. Then a headache should be something you can handle, no?
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Silvio: (¬⤙¬ ) hmph...
Aslan: (´• _ •` ) Baby, come back.
A/N: (￣┰￣*) ......I'll tell you the taste of writing a lover's spat right after a hell week from uni. It's incredibly bitter but worth it.
