CHAPTER TWO

GINEVRA

I had never imagined the level of difficulty to be faced with whilst initiating peace after trouble had been stirred up.

In the underworld, trouble was easy, but peace and settlement were the most prominent stumbling blocks ever to be faced. That was the reason a lot of families fell out a lot of times and made sure to burn themselves to the ground.

There was no room for peace.

That was beginning to seem like my case with the Sanchez’s.

A meeting that was held and concluded in less than an hour, a meeting that a few words were said, a meeting that held a lot of unforeseen promises, a meeting that was merely two individuals of the same age group stroking each other’s ego—in a bad way.

That meeting had resulted into something far worse than the most talked about and feared Armageddon.

Days had turned into weeks, weeks into months and yet, the Rodriguez’s and Sanchez’s were yet to find common ground. Both parties at a loss of money, products and lots of lives, and yet, we remained stubborn until it became a battle of Ego.

It was no longer a battle with a course. It was no longer a quest for more money or more power. It became the desperate need to prove a point.

I and Ghost were desperate to prove a point to one another so much that we were willing to burn the world to the ground.

Winning was my endgame. Ghost was after all a common messenger and I was the head of La famiglia.

The Rodriguez famiglia. A name not to be toyed with.

I couldn’t lose.

But I fought that battle, spilled so much blood until I became blood sickened. Of course my inability to take a life by my own hands had set me back. My reputation was ruined and once again, it was proven that all I was was just a pretty face and a sharp mind.

I had many times fantasized about the many ways to take a man’s life but always made certain to hold myself back. It wasn’t the lack of courage nor was it fear—I had set my eyes on a goal, I had promised myself that the first blood I would spill would be that of a Rodriguez.

The monster in me wanted blood but it had its preference.

So, when the war appeared to have no end, I began seeking the face of Luigi Sanchez, the head of the Sanchez famiglia—all to no avail.

Just like Ghost had promised, I swallowed my pride and got down on my knees. I crawled and begged for his attention. I gave him what he so desired until he finally came out of the shadows and beckoned to my calls.

Ghost, the messenger was in my office and all I had to do was say the right things and all of this troubles would go away.

“You have a mask on yet again, why?” Too tensed by his presence, that was the first question I asked on seeing half of his face covered. Again.

He raised his brows, staring at me intensely, his eyes glistening with excitement and loathe. “You didn’t leave tons of messages just so you could ask questions about the accessories I chose to adorn myself by, did you?” His voice hoarse as he made a move for the door, intending to storm out.

“Let’s stop already.” I immediately called after him, causing him to stop in his tracks.

With a scoff, he turned so that he was facing me. “Why?” His question vibrated against his throat and for a few minutes, I fell silent, not having an appropriate answer for his ridiculous question.

Wasn’t he tired of the bloodshed?

Was he not blood sickened?

“Because I want to stop. I’m blood sickened and tired.” I could tell his irritation by the movement of his eyes. And then he began to take short and yet, calculated steps towards me. I mirrored him by taking a step backward with each step he took forward. “You selfish, little bitch.”

His fingers curled into a fist, his veins popping out and the look in his eyes that of a man struggling to stay in control.

For minutes, I stood silently before him whilst he cursed me out. He called me names that were extremely disgusting, distasteful and disrespectful, yet, I took it silently.

I couldn’t understand his anger. Was it because of the reason behind my desire for peace or was the fact that I desired peace?

Ghost left me in utter confusion.

“It was you and I who sat in this room and made decisions that affected a lot of people. A decision that has taken a lot from my family and yours, and yet, you delude yourself with the idea of wanting to make peace just because you’re tired? People have died! I have lost people of my own and all you did was hide in the shadows whilst others fought your war for you! So cowardly.” He breathed. “If you want peace, go find it on the battle ground.”

I froze at his words. He was angry, so angry he didn’t want this to end until I fell and he didn’t care to hide the fact from me.

My fear threatened to creep out, my heart pounded so hard against my throat and the inhale and exhale of my breath became a mess.

Ghost was crazy and he wanted to drive me out of my mind. He saw me for what I was. He saw me for the scared, little bitch I was and he wanted to use it against me.

Letting out a shaky exhale, I made sure to think carefully about the words I had forced out of my mouth.

“If we don’t stop, we’ll lose more lives, more money and even the source our money. Nobody wants to associate with trouble and you know this. Our families are able to excel above others in this business because we know how to stay away from trouble. We know how to keep our ego aside and treat business as business. This fight is changing that fact and we’d lose a lot more of don’t get it together.”

Ghost had uttered not a single word.

A silence so discomforting had stretched out for long minutes until he decided to turn his back on me. He once again made a move for the door. Something had snapped in me but I held it all in. I had to be the bigger person.

If I couldn’t use my strength then my wit could suffice.

I took deep breaths and began speaking again.

“The FBI.” The mention of those cocksuckers had him halting his movement. I continued. “They’re investigating this chaos. They’ve shown interest in this war of ours and it’s only a matter of time before they get hold of information, information that could ruin us all. Tell me, Ghost, your freedom or your Ego?”

That was it, my card all laid out on the table, fingers crossed that he took the bait.

Ghost stood there by the door, his gaze never shifting from mine and I could tell he was conflicted. To walk back in or to walk away? He was too conflicted to make a decision.

It became a hassle, watching his excellent figure by my door and his unnerving eyes on me. I gave him a choice. “I have a shipment coming in tonight, if it crosses over and gets to my warehouse safely, then, I’ll have my answer.”

With a single nod, he walked away, disappearing down the hall.

I waited for hours until I heard the good news that had my lips stretched out into grin.

It must’ve cost me my pride, but at the end, I won. And I had to celebrate my first win after such a long and excruciating time period.

. . .

“Another glass of scotch please! Neat!” I yelled out as I emptied the content of the glass in my hand into my mouth.

Was I tipsy? Yes.

Was I going to stop drinking just yet? No.

The night was young and I needed to drink my sorrows away. I needed to celebrate my recent win but since I had no friends to hangout with at a normal club, I decided to sit at the boring bar and drink myself into the realm of nothingness.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” A familiar husky voice rasped from the left of me.

My head whipped towards that direction and my words were immediately caught in my throat.

It was him.

Him. Ghost. The messenger.

Without the mask.

Were my eyes deceiving me?

Was the alcohol getting the best of me?

“Have I seen those eyes before?” I breathed, my eyes narrowed into slits and my bottom lip caught between my teeth.

A chuckle vibrated out of him. “Perhaps.”

“Did you follow me here?”

He chuckled. Again. “Maybe.”

I fell silent, watching him with curious eyes and taking the liberty to familiarize myself with his features. So peculiar. So immaculate. So exquisite.

I had never seen a man as beautiful as Ghost. He was out of this world. His features like a perfectly created art, perhaps a perfectly written poem.

There was an edge of darkness to him, and yet, he seemed to shine the brightest in the room. So bright that everyone had their eyes on him. Men and women.

My eye dropped to his lips as there parted to entertain the glass been slid between them.

The manner at which he sipped his drink, the manner at which he swallowed the liquid and the manner at which his throat bobbed—there were all special.

He was special.

Too special to be an ordinary messenger.

He had a composure of a leader which made me wonder who the man really was. He had to be something. Something more than a mere messenger.

“And there I was, imagining how atrocious your face looked for you to have continuously gone through the troubles of shielding it away from the world. Guess I was wrong.”

He snorted a laugh, revealing his perfect, pearly dentition. “Did you just call me handsome?” He quirked a questioning brow.

A ghostly smile played at my lips. “Maybe.”

“Your accent,” he observed, index finger gliding in a circular motion around the tip of the glass cup on the table. “You’re not Italian, are you?”

My jaw locked in an instant, my grip on the tumbler in my hand tightening so hard that my knuckles paled. “I’m a Rodriguez.”

He tsked. “Not by blood.”

“I am a Rodriguez. I was legally adopted.” I retorted.

His lips stretched into a smile. “There’s nothing legal about that family and there was nothing legal about your adoption.” He leaned back into his seat, his legs thrown apart in a manspread. “You were auctioned. Say it as it is, Ginevra.”

“Adopted.”

“Auctioned. You were sold to them, embrace it.”

“I was sold to no one.”

“You were.”

“I was adopted.”

“You were bought.”

I couldn’t hold back any longer. He was getting a reaction out of me and he smiled through each irritated tick of my jaw and each enraged flex of my fingers.

Slamming the butt of the cup against the table, I hissed. “What do you want?”

“To help you.”

His statement drawed laughter out of my throat. “And you think I need your help?”

Leaning his back on the backrest of the cushion, Ghost hummed his response, “I don’t do thoughts, I do beliefs. So, yes, I do believe I can help you.”

My interest piqued. “And this thing you believe you could help me with, what might it be? Ghost?”

“Power.” He breathed wordlessly. “You crave power. The power that’d give you the freedom you desire. The freedom to destroy Dario Rodriguez and his family.”

My eyes widened and Ghost scoffed at my reaction. “Don’t look so startled, Ginevra, you should know by now that digging up information on anyone is the least difficult task to perform in our world.”

I nodded in understanding. Still, I was hesitant to accept his offer. There was something fishy about his proposition and I couldn’t allow myself fall into danger because of my unquenchable thirst for power.

“You belong with the Sanchez’s,” I had stated as I emptied yet another glass of the burning liquid into my mouth.

Ghost nodded in agreement. “A fact that will remain unchanged for an unforeseen period of time.”

Another pour of drink found its way down my burning throat.

I needed to be drunk, I needed to make this decision without being completely aware of it, I needed to blame my poor decisions on the alcohol when I sobered up, hence, I continued downing glass after glass of scotch and yet, I was still so sober that I began to question the originality of the drink.

“Then, why would you want to help me? What do you stand to gain?”

“Mental stimulation.” He quickly answered, causing my eyes to narrow at him. “You’re an enemy but a powerless one and there’s no fun indulging with people with no power.” He leaned forward, fingers interlaced and clamped together in between his bent knees, elbows resting above his knees.

“I desire to make a powerful enemy out of you and I desire to join hands together with you for the destruction of the Rodriguez name.”

“You’re ambitious.” I commented.

“I am.” He affirmed.

“How do you intend to make me powerful when all you are is just a messenger? You should seek out power for your own self before pinning to seek it out for another.”

Excitement danced in his ocean blue orbs. His lips twitching at the corners as he heaved out a sigh, leaning back into the soft leather of the couch. “I am a messenger, and yet, I am so much more.”

Of course he was.

“And this power, how do you intend to help me get it?”

A moment of silence stretched between us. Minutes passed and he still stared at me absentmindedly like he was in deep thought.

With a heave of a shaky breath, he rose from his seat as her ran his fingers through his disheveled hair.

“The pakhan of Russian Bratva. Viktor Nikolai Advik.”

The glass in my hand shattered, my blood trickled down my clothed thigh, my eyes stayed widened and unblinking and I remained unmoving.

I was frozen with shock because of the name which was mentioned.

Viktor Nikolai Advik.

This was about to be my doom.