Future Mrs Visconti

Genevieve's face blanched at the words she just heard. She blinked rapidly and convinced herself her brain must be having issues comprehending what the words meant.

Then she shut her eyes tightly for the next several seconds waiting, in vain, for the voice of the bald auctioneer to call her ‘bitch’ and command her to open her eyes. That she had been bought and she had to come with him to his office!

Why not?

This... scene playing before her had to be a dream. There was no other reason someone who was alive and standing beside her one second would end up dead in the very next second.

Her doubt, however, wasn’t because this was her first time losing someone in the twinkling of an eye—she had experienced more than a normal human fair share of that, even at her young age—but because this was her first time seeing it happen for the stupidiest reason ever.

‘’Open your eyes, Principessa,’’ a cold voice, which she now recognised as that of the handsome man, echoed in her ears. ‘’I’m done. Unless there’s someone else you want to say a forever goodbye to in this place. Is there?’’

‘’Absolutely not!’’ Genevieve snapped, her eyelids snapping open before the man would do something she could not stop. She looked down; noticed that the bald auctioneer’s dead body was still lying there, and her heart sank. '’This is me trying to believe you didn’t just kill someone because he’s breathing the same air as who? Future Mrs Visconti? Who the hell is she? And, who the hell are you?"

"Adrian Viktor Visconti."

"Visconti?!" Genevieve had never heard of the name, but that didn't mean she could not tell that the owner was powerful. "That means... the air this man breathed is that of your future wi—No, before that, what air was this man expected to breathe if not the same as her?’’

‘’Oxygen, maybe,’’ the man muttered coldly, a hint of impatience lingering beneath his tone. He had averted his piercing gaze from her for some minutes now, and his eyes were now fixed somewhere behind her back.

Judging by the direction, Genevieve guessed it was most probably at the curtains leading backstage. But she couldn't be bothered with that right now. Genevieve in a normal state would have cowered at his predatory posture, especially as he was towering a good full feet above her head. But that was the thing about the traumatic incident she experienced three years ago. Anytime something similar happened, like someone getting shot right in her face, she would be rendered momentarily fearless and stupid, unable to recognize danger and threat when she saw one. Just like now.

So she took a step forward, her hands balling into fists.

‘’Okay, Mister. If this man,’’ she pointed at the dead man lying behind her, blood starting to pool at the base of his head, ‘’was supposed to breathe oxygen to avoid death. What was the ‘Mrs Visconti’ you are talking about breathing?’’

‘’Oxygen, obviously,’’ was the bland reply she received.

Genevieve jaws slacked in stupefaction, rendered speechless for the third time in five minutes.

‘’If you knew that, then why did you kill him?!’' she yelled.

‘’Hmm... now, that I think about, I guess I was just bored. I hope I didn’t get blood on your dress. Sorry if I did. Now let’s get the hell out of here like…’’ he finally spared her a glance, his icy gaze boring into her fiery one, and continued, "Like everyone else has.’’

Restraining herself from acting as her emotions were pushing her to, Genevieve forced her eyes away from him to the rows of empty chairs surrounding the podium. Where the hell did everybody go? Didn’t they see this mad man kill someone now? Why didn't anybody try to challenge him? How did they even leave without her noticing a thing?

As her eyes came back to see that the man’s eyes were still on hers, she finally started to realize the gravity of the situation. A slither of fear creeped up her spine and she started to regret how she had questioned this man for the past few minutes. No one challenged him because this was the underworld, and he possessed a powerful position here. A position none of them could stand up against. And that had to be why they disappeared without noise.

'Fuck, Gen. You're dead. You failed in controlling yourself once again, and now you have earned yourself the position of the next victim of this man's pistol,' she murmured under her breath, her mind racing with thoughts. How the hell had she not sensed his dangerous and intimidating aura from the very beginning?! Or wait, maybe it wasn't her fault, seeing as his distractingly perfect facial features could make even a man shoot himself in the head without knowing it.

"Who are you... really? Not just your name," she asked as carefully as she could.

‘’The dead man isn't enough explanation?’’ the man deadpanned.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ Genevieve replied immediately, clamping her mouth shut.

‘’Don’t need your apologies, Mrs Visconti. Just take my hand and let’s get on our way to your new home and family,’’ he seethed, and his eyes went off her once again.

Genevieve extended her hand, but with realization dawning on her, she was unable to revel in the sensation of her palm slipping into his. What the hell did she just hear?

"Wait," she chuckled nervously, "What did you just call me? Or maybe I heard wrong."

"You didn’t, Mrs Visconti," Adrian shrugged. "I called you Future Mrs Visconti earlier cause you haven’t been paid for. But now that you have, your position has been confirmed."

"What?" The words fell from Genevieve lips before she could control herself, "You—I am... Wait, I have been purchased? By... you?"

"Not exactly."