Beauty and the Beast: A Dark Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance

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luca

I sat down in my office, finishing up some paperwork on fixing the finances for the launderette that we owned on the opposite side of Cheetham Hill. It was one of our numerous fronts for laundering our dirty money, so it was always necessary that we kept everything up-to-date and organized, to stop the feds from sniffing around.

This was always a tedious task, but it had to be done. I was waiting on a call from one of my men, Jamal, who was going to run me by everybody we'd allowed to borrow money from us, and who was still yet to pay back their debts.

I pulled out a fag, taking slow drags of it in and out, allowing the smoke to burn down my lungs and allow my body to relieve its stress. I picked up the phone to call my Pops, but then put it back down, knowing that he was probably drowning his sorrows in a bottle of alcohol, like he always fucking did.

A sudden knock at the door snapped me out of my thoughts.

"Hey Luca," said Faizan, making his way inside my office.

"What's up, Fizz?" I replied, standing up on my feet and putting my paperwork to the side.

Fizz was my right-hand man – the brother that I could rely on no matter what, to get me through every situation. He was Pakistani, with pale eyes, a rugged beard, and a strong, well-built frame. We'd known each other since we were kids, and we did everything together. We weren't related by blood, but he was the only man out of everybody who worked for me who I could call my own family, and would trust with my own life. His name was Faizan, but we all called him Fizz.

"Jamal just rang me and told us to go by a motherfucker's house who hasn't paid up his debts yet," Fizz explained. "We're gonna take some of the other men too, in case things get nasty."

"We're more than capable to deal with him ourselves," I retorted, rolling my eyes.

"Nah bro, he has a debt of about ninety grand," Fizz sighed exhaustedly. "He could be armed."

"Fair enough, bro," I shrugged. "Let's go."

He nodded, and we made our way out of the building. Outside, four of the other men who worked under our belt were standing outside of the truck, waiting for us expectantly. Together, we formed part of the Cosa Nostra, taking care of the Sicilian Mafia's organized crime syndicate within the United Kingdom, our headquarters being in Manchester. From gun trafficking, to smuggling drugs, to kidnapping, to gambling, to assassinating, bombing, and blackmailing...

We did it all.

I'd never claimed to be a good man, never claimed to have a soul in my body. My life was just making shit-tons of money, taking care of my men, and taking out any motherfucker who dared get on the wrong side of me. The only thing that I was hell-bent on never getting into was human trafficking, and forcing women into prostitution. Despite how much money it made, that was a disgusting side of business that I could never fuck with. I'd tear men's lives apart with no fuck's given, but I'd never let innocent women and children get caught in the crossfire.

"Ready to go, Boss?" asked Massimo, one of the men.

"Yeah. Where does this motherfucker live?" I asked, as Fizz folded his arms.

"Near Wilmslow Road. This needs to be a quick warning and we need to get the fuck out of there straight after, the feds have been trailing the place a lot recently."

"Understood."

Me and Fizz joined the men in the truck, and began driving to the bastard's house, ready to teach him a lesson for not paying his debts.