Page 98 of Arianna

A smile that says ‘take that, you overbearing psychotic bitch.’

One that doesn’t hurt me.

One that comes naturally.

Celene’s eyes narrow while looking at me with hateful eyes.

Yup, this one will be a problem.

Oh, well.

Sebastian is wrong.

She might have made me react in ways I am not proud of, but she didn’t win.

By the look of misery and hatefulness in her eyes, I won this round.

And I will win all the ones that come next.

Rounds, battles… and war.

BASTIAN

Obsessions & Games

“She could steal the devil’s heart.” – B

It was just after 9:00 PM the same day when I pulled into the circular drive of the mansion, hidden somewhere in the South area of the city where no one dares step foot unless they have a death wish.

The owner is the only son of the man who owns this city and my longtime friend.

Thiago Sandoval.

The soon-to-be head of the Sandoval crime family.

Our fathers used to run in the same circles back when we were children and before my father passed away. Father and the Sandoval boss were not friends by any means, but they did hold a certain respect for one other. My father was the good guy that followed the rules and believed that the country would persevere with honesty and hard work and Thiago’s father believed the world was made for the rotten and that only they could survive in a dog-eat-dog country.

To some point, I believed them both until one night changed my perception of good and evil.

And how ironic that two boys who grew up in the same circle with very different values became allies and good friends.

I was the politician’s son, and he was the criminal’s spawn.

And years later, here we are.

We both learned the harsh truth of this world we belong to. For me to be on top, I need someone willing to get their hands bloody and do the job and for Thiago to keep control of the city, he needs well-established connections with the elite of Chicago.

That is where I come in.

Just like good and bad.

We balance each other out.

Ring, ring, ring.

Reaching the car’s touch console, I press the flashing button and accept the incoming call, knowing she must be dealt with. What she pulled today is not acceptable and will not be tolerated again. “Yes.”

Celene’s voice carries through the car’s speakers. Has her tone always been this irritating? “Mr. Kenton,” she takes a deep breath before carrying on. “I wanted to ask how the meeting with Joan Masters went?”

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