Twenty-five | Alonzo

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 As soon as the plane landed I had someplace to be. The meeting started as soon as I walked through the doors. The first couple of meetings I had were for the whole issue with the loss of money. More and more is being taken out of the account. Even after we had gone through and made new everything. Even though we go through our own bank, we set up new accounts with even more security than before.

We cut off everything with everyone and set up new accounts with vendors too. Somehow the same account makes its way through our countless firewalls and security. It seems like it has no end. Just a continuous loop.

The next few meetings were planning the gala that is coming up. We've picked a venu, a date and time, and a menu. Well I didn't pick any of that. I really just let Matteo discuss it while I sat there, nodding my head agreeing to anything just so the day could be over with quicker. Even though this is my first gala as the boss, I want nothing to do with it. I'll have to meet people, make empty promises, look like I want to be there.

Ever since I was younger, the annual gala has always been a chore that I have to drink my way through. Since I was the boss's son, I had to make a standard. Make them see what was to come once my father left.

"Chin up."

"Intense eye contact to scare them."

"Act as they are all beneath you."

"Talk to no one about business."

"Always lie about your background."

"Don't be cocky."

A stereotype I had to fulfill inorder to get to the place I am now. Those men that attend every year will remember how I've acted in the past, therefore they will respect me now. There is no other choice. No matter how much it sucked, not being able to play and hang out with all the other kids, and just not being able to be a kid, it landed me a powerful position today. So I'm grateful for it.

I can't even get into the part my mother plays at galas. She has to be the devoted, love struck wife that cares nothing but her husband. I know my mother hates and fears my father. I don't blame her. Whenever my mother would laugh too loud, or slouch too much she'd get beaten when we arrived home.

Most of the time I was sent to my room, I didn't have to watch. But whenever I miss behaved, I was forced to watch. It hurt so much having to watch him beat her. I had no other choice though. It horrified me, disgusted me, but most importantly it taught me to obey him. To follow his order.

Not anymore. Now I make the orders. After years of receiving them, I am finally the one giving them out. That is how I like it, I must admit. Just having the authority that I hold keeps me going. The fear of people towards me fuels my energy. One of the few things keeping me afloat, giving me motivation.

The meetings lasted all day. I'm mentally, physically, and socially exhausted. All I want is to get home and go right to sleep. Merde, Reagan was moved into my room. I'll have to deal with that when I get home too. Mine as well get that over with.

I cruise down the road, finally on my way. It's well after midnight and I almost begin to feel myself drifting. I have to turn the radio up high so I can stay awake.

The drive feels like it takes forever, I finally make it home and walk right through the doors. The house is silent thankfully. I turn onto my hallway and I see Marco standing outside of my bedroom door.

"Che stai a fare ancora qui?" I ask his reason why he is still here. He looks exhausted, and panicked.

"Non aprirà la porta. L'ha chiusa a chiave." He responds, telling me that she locked the door, not opening it.

I tilt my head confused. "Potrebbe essere addormentata?" I ask if it's possible that she is asleep inside. She could have just went to sleep and missed dinner.

"Non l'ho vista da quando siamo tornati. Era arrabbiata e mi ha escluso." Marco explains that she has been in there all day, shutting him out.

I ball my fists. "Non l'ho vista da quando siamo tornati. Era arrabbiata e mi ha escluso?" I question him about my dogs.

His eyes widen. "Dimenticavo che erano lì dentro..."

I want to blow up at him, scream at him just because I can. But I don't. It takes me a second to calm down, but eventually I do. "Vai a casa. Ci vediamo domani mattina." I dismiss him, telling him to go home and that I'll see him tomorrow.

He is shocked by my answer, but nods his head. "Grazie capo." He leaves, walking down the hall quickly.

Once he turns the corner, I sigh, getting my keys out of my pocket. Of course I have the key to my door, so I wasn't sure what she was thinking locking it. I'm always too many steps ahead.

I unlock the door, turning the handle. The door opens and there is a light stop from the inside. I continue to open it and see Reagan laying on the ground near the door. I pushed the door further, going in and crouching at her side, panicked. My fingers feel around for a pulse and I find a slow beat. A relieved sigh leaves my lungs and I stand back up.

I turn to Lorenzo and Buchanon, seeing them sitting next to her and looking up at me. "Vai avanti e fai quello che devi fare." I order them to go do what they have to do. Their food should be out in the kitchen and they know a way to get outside to use the bathroom. They don't waste time and head out the door.

How could Reagan be so negligent about them? So she can what? Shut out her bodyguard. She needs to learn that there is no way out and fast.

I lean down, lifting her up onto the bed. She is still in her clothes from the plane. I notice tear stained cheeks.

Once she is on the bed, I turn to the bathroom for a quick shower. After I'm done, I change into a pair of gym shorts and walk back into the bedroom. When I get there, Reagan is up and awake, running for the door. I waste no time running after her and grabbing her by her wrist.

"Stop! Let me go!" She protests, attempting to get out of my hold.

"What are you doing?" I question in the calmest voice I can.

She continues to struggle, and tears begin to well up in her eyes again. "Please. Please." She begs.

My brows knit together. Why does she seem so scared? She seemed fine on the vacation. She was mad on the plane just because I wasn't paying attention to anything. I know that my dogs do not do well on planes, but after take off they're fine. Reagan just had to over complicate it, making me the bad guy in the situation.

"What is going on?" I question her again.

Reagan ignores my question and continues to fight, pulling, tugging, and even hitting me.

I take both of her hands in mine, pushing her against the now closed door, caging her in. "Stop." I order in a stronger voice. I don't have the energy to calm my tone anymore.

She stops, staking with fear, not even meeting my eye.

"Explain the problem." I say with an aggravated tone.

She pulls, trying to get away. "Please don't..."

"'Please don't' what?" I spit.

Her lip quivers. "Please don't hurt me or my family." She pleads, finally meeting my eyes with her blurry hazel ones.

Please don't hurt me or my family. I wonder where she got that allegation from. "Did Marco say something?" I ask in an irritated tone.

She merely nods her head.

I lean in close to her ear, feeling her breath on my cheek. "Then listen to it." I then let go of her walking towards my bed. "Now, I don't care where you sleep, but I am sleeping here." I state before laying on my bed. I don't pay attention to what she does next. Marco wasn't supposed to say anything, but it worked I guess.


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