Episode four
1447 Words
In the whole of Italy and beyond, Massimo Visconti is a name which spelled doom whenever it was mentioned.
Belonging to a devil who's custom-made from hell. The merciless boss of the Cosa Nostra who's allergic to forgiveness and giving second chances.
He's the only son of late Orlando Visconti who was the former boss of the Cosa Nostra, and Orlando was just as ruthless.
One could say Massimo inherited the icy personality from his father, but his heartlessness is second to none.
As he kept his eyes zeroed into Violette who's still sitting helplessly on the ground, Violette couldn't help but recall every evil thing she has heard about this man.
She shivered like a leaf in storm, and she slowly looked away from those dark eyes, facing the ground.
Massimo stretched his hand sidewards, and the other guy placed a combat knife in it.
"Get up" Massimo commanded.
It was so mean that Violette had to look up again.
He's definitely talking to her, but how is she supposed to stand with her hand still tied behind like this?
She pushed the pessimistic thoughts away and tried to stand, but that definitely was a bad choice.
She was able to stand, but she staggered forward, almost knocking herself into Massimo.
Massimo moved out of the way, and she fell back to the ground, hurting her knees.
"Hmmp!" A gasp left her mouth, and Massimo's face turned disappointed as he watched her bleed.
Is this really the same woman who stabbed her groom to death on the alter?
The other guy came forward with the intention of helping her up, but Massimo held an hand up, stopping him.
He stepped back sharply, and Violette felt challenged when she witnessed that.
She's not a weakling. She once visited the gymnastics house daily when she was preparing to audition for VIMI. She's not useless at all.
No idea where all her fear from earlier went, but she pushed herself to her feet immediately, and she did it cleanly, standing in front of him.
"What businesses do you have with me, Mr. Visconti?" She raised her chin bravely.
The man smirked with a toxic edge, grabbing her arm and turning her around in a swift twist.
The knife with him made just one contact with the knot she was tied with. It was too professional, and when the rope fell on the ground afterwards, she quickly turned to face him back, swallowing again.
Their eyes met, and his own seems to hold a thousand midnights as it clashed with hers.
"Talking here would be attempted murder," he said, looking around at the smelly sawdust everywhere. It's really a messy stable.
"Tag along" he finished the statement, exiting the building with one hand inserted into his pocket.
The other guy carried unconscious Carla, and Violette didn't bother to ask what they want with Carla too, she just followed him out.
Despite the ache in her bones and killing stings in her skull and knees, she followed without thinking.
If there's a safe place to hide from the cops, it'd be with a powerful mafia boss like Massimo.
Not like she's scared of going to jail, but maybe she could use more time before getting captured again.
Whatever is in stock for her, should better be in her good interest.
--
"What would you like to have, miss?" A server dressed in immaculate white uniform asked with a welcoming smile, and Violette looked over at the other side of the wide table where Massimo sat like a king with the other guy behind him.
Violette got to know his name was Paolo during the drive here, and he's Massimo's closest man.
They're currently in a private dinner called 'Tavola Italian', and despite the fact that the sweet smell of the dishes from the nearby kitchen is making Violette's stomach make funny noises, she still couldn't calm.
"I'm not hungry" she told the server who instantly stepped away.
Violette's eyes went to the end of the table again to see Paolo saying something into Massimo's ear, and her patience vanished.
"What are we doing here?" She asked firmly, her fists folded on her laps under the table.
Paolo stepped back from Massimo, seems he has finished telling him whatever he was saying.
"Eat" Massimo replied, his eyes settling on her.
"I just said I'm not hungry, and besides, i'm wounded in almost every part of my body, and it hurts. This ain't the time to eat" she retorted, surprised that she didn't stutter.
"It's either you eat and we get this over with, or you don't, and we spend the rest of the day sitting here, till tomorrow even" he replied blankly.
Violette knew he wasn't bluffing, and the last thing she'd want to do is spend the rest of her time before jail here. Also, she's curious about what he wants from her, so she gave in.
She called the server back, and she could feel Massimo's piercing eyes on herself as she ordered a dish of pasta and simple pineapple juice.
Massimo's face made a strange glitch immediately she ordered that, but she didn't care.
She was taping her foot on the ground, glaring at both Massimo and Paolo without minding the consequences till her meal arrived.
The pasta barely hit the table before she began eating fast, and though it's madly delicious, she had no time to savour the taste well.
She ate five full forklifts before drinking the pineapple juice to wash it down.
"This is the last time you'd be taking pineapple juice" Massimo's commanding voice came from the table end, and she lifted her lids at him, questioning him with her eyes and the cup still intact between her full lips.
"You're gonna be acting as my dead wife, and pineapple is the one thing she was allergic to" he continued, making her choke on the juice.
She spilled juice all-over the clothed table and on herself, and she clumsily got tissues, wiping the mess she made hurriedly before facing him.
"What did you say?"
Massimo snapped his fingers, and Paolo dropped a brown envelope on the table.
Impatiently, Violette took it and emptied the content on the table. Her shock was matchless when she saw pictures of herself, but the only difference is the eyes.
While her eyes are hazel, the eyes in the pictures are emerald. Apart from that, they're literally the same, even the blonde hair.
"This is...your...dead wife?" Violette asked in a drawl.
"You're smart, yes. That's Teresa Lombardi, the woman you'll be" Massimo replied crisply, resting his elbows on the table and interlocking his fingers.
His stiff shoulders strained against his suit in the process, the movement intentional.
"Wait..." Violette stood, shutting her eyes for a while before opening it.
"Are you kidding? Why would I—"
"I'll help you live freely, and you won't have to go to jail for killing your groom" Massimo declared, and her butt landed back on the chair.
"Where is the contract? And a pen too" she said thoughtlessly.
What's there to think about?
She accepted that her life was over immediately she stabbed Dominic, but now that an opportunity to live on popped up, she'd be stupid to not take it.
Though she'd be living the life of a dead person, so what? At least, she'd still stay alive and well, not eating s**t in jail.
It'll be a plain and bland relationship too since Massimo is a well-known emotionless monster who doesn't like anyone who's not his dead wife.
Her own heart has been broken and sealed away since Dominic poisoned her emotions.
It's just the perfect combo.
It's an opportunity to restart and reshape her horizon. A chance to survive again.
She looked at Massimo who looks unmoved even by her sudden outburst.
"I'll sign it" she said with determination.
Paolo dropped the paperwork in front of her and a pen.
She read the contract attentively, making sure she grasped every concept and detail.
The most important part is acting like a mother to his twins without giving them any reason to suspect her, then making sure to not develop worthless feelings for him.
If she gets caught by the kids as an imposter, or gets caught developing feelings for him, the contract will be terminated.
She took the pen on top of the paper and looked at him with a slow, cunning smile.
Seems he just met the perfect person for this job, m
ajorly because none of the two is ever going to happen.
Ever.
She brought her eyes back to the contract, signing smoothly.
New life, new persona.
- Writer
