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Home / Mafia / The Pensive Gentleman / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of The Pensive Gentleman: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

105 Chapters

prologue

Angelica *three months ago* The sound of a car engine revs loudly in the distance. I can already guess it's one of those fast cars I've come to associate with the residents of Brown Hill. My head whips toward my open window, trying to catch a glimpse. I don't. Instead, I notice how dark it is out. Dark enough that no one should be awake—late enough that I won't get caught. I've been sitting here for over an hour now, waiting for my bodyguard, Joey, and as if hearing my thoughts, a knock on my door pierces through my ear. I move immediately, grabbing my purse which has my portable charger, gum, some cash, and the old phone I've used since I was seventeen, in it. Before making my way to the door though, my open journal sitting atop my vanity with a list scribbled across the page, catches my attention. Picking it up, I stare at the words again, at the list of things that have now become essential for me to do, with my heart hammering, hard enough to hurt. "Maybe I sh

prologue ii.

AngelicaBarely anyone is here when the bouncer leads me in, not after biting his lower lip and wiggling one brow at me suggestively. It should've been the first red flag because while I hoped for not much of a crowd, this kind of empty feels... wrong.I tell myself it's not an issue and adjust my curls again, making sure it covers my face as I take in my surroundings. From the outside, the club looks small, but the interior is anything but. The lighting burns low and red, like the walls themselves are alive, like the entire place is breathing heat. Apparently, it's known for its mean drinks and fiery decor—which makes sense, given the name.I hang my head low as I walk to the round bar which houses three bartenders, though I'm sure with the amount of people here, they've barely done any work."Welcome to Inferno, pretty lady. What can I get you?" One of the bartenders, a blond, spike-haired dude with one dimple asks.I lick my lips, my eyes going over the menu hung behind him before

1.

Angelica *present day*“Fix that pretty face of yours!” Nicolas grabs my face, his thumb and index fingers digging into my cheek, hard enough to make me wince.“God forbid the D’amatos think it’s not as perfect as everyone says it is,” he hisses, then releases my face from his grip, his eyes roaming up and down my body in disgust. Twisting his lips in a frown, he digs into his pocket and takes out a handkerchief which he uses to wipe his hands as though he touched something filthy. I should feel bad that he does this, but I don’t because it’s not like it’s the first time. I’m filth. The filth he cannot get rid of.“Yes, Father.” I don’t dare look him in the eyes. One would think I would’ve grown a thick skin by now, but it is impossible, not when Nicolas never fails to remind me just how worthless I am at every given or taken opportunity.I press my hands together behind me and give him my most subtle smile, fixing my pretty face just as he ordered.I watch the man I call Father s

2.

AngelicaMy lips tremble as I take in rushed breaths, trying to get as much air as I can in my tight throat.Coming here was a mistake, but it’s not like I had a choice. This was the part of the night Nicolas warned me about.“Behave yourself tonight.” His words from earlier ring in my ears. It was short for ‘don’t embarrass me tonight.’ And I just did.The psychiatrist called it Enochlophobia, something I acquired when I was eight. And because Nicolas is who he is, he denied me help when I needed it—until it got worse.Then it became my problem. It didn’t matter to him as long as people didn’t know about it, and as long as I behaved myself wherever I went. Like I can control what happens to me.I shut my eyes, trying to steady my breathing and think through what I’ve just done. I reek of spilled alcohol, but right now that’s the least of my concerns.What have I done? I think to myself.“You don’t ever run out of ideas to show yourself, do you?” a familiar voice hisses from behind

3.

Angelica I press my palms against a clothed, hard chest. The fabric is soft to the touch and…wet, reeking of alcohol. I immediately know who this chest belongs to—and I shouldn’t be touching it. So I take a step back, withdrawing my hand as though instead of wet, the fabric burns me. But the second I do, long, thick, and manly fingers wrap around both my wrists, pulling me flush against him, my palms pressed there again, feeling the steady thud beneath it. I shut my eyes and try to pull away, but he doesn’t let me, tightening his hold around my wrists instead. However, as if sensing my powerlessness against him, knowing I’m too weak to keep fighting, he releases his hold on me, and I finally peel my eyes open, only to sink into further confusion. Instead of a clothed chest, my palms now press against bare skin, warm and solid. Shock frizzles through me, and I’m too scared to move, too scared to breathe, too scared to tear my eyes from the hard body. But I do; not because I’v

4.

AngelicaI thought of many ways to escape this nightmare, but they all end with blood in my mouth and Nicolas’s hand around my throat. Or worse, with me standing at an altar beside a man I don’t know.Of all the times I wished I were Nadine, this is the only time I badly needed it to be true so I could escape this fate, just like she did."...gelica? Are you with us?" A female voice from my screen pulls me out of my thoughts. I refocus on my laptop, blinking, embarrassed at being caught spacing out."Yes, I am," I stutter, clearing my throat.My lecturer on the screen narrows her eyes, and I press my lips together, mouthing an apology even though she can't see me. She carries on with her lecture and I shove all my thoughts about my upcoming nuptials to the back of my mind.Nicolas thought it beneath him to keep me uneducated, so I attend college, but from the comfort of my bedroom. And in exchange for my tuition fees, I'm not allowed to fail. If I do, I get beaten and it'll be added t

5.

AngelicaI can boldly say I owe my life to Joey. Without him, I would’ve been dead, dumped somewhere no one would ever find me. Nicolas would make sure of that.Countless times Joey picked me up after Nicolas’s assaults, cleaned my injuries, massaged my swollen body and so on. One time, three years ago, he stitched me up when Nicolas left me for dead in my own pool of blood. Joey would order meals for me whenever I was punished overnight and didn’t have anything to eat, or whenever Sarah would tell the cook not to include me in whatever meal of the day they were having. He was and is my protector. The only father I’ve ever recognized. And now that father is sitting in front of me, a frown on his wrinkled face, his elbows digging into his thighs as he sits forward, staring at me.“What are you going to do, bambina?” He asks, not a smile anywhere close to his face. He means business.I sink further into the black rotating chair in his living room—one I’m a hundred percent sure he bou

6.

Marciano A piercing shriek cuts across the street, drawing attention as the scene turns grim. Slowly, I tuck my gun into my waistband while the four guys who had come with me rush towards the twitching body. They surround the area, creating a barrier between the body and the curious bunch. Letting out a breath, annoyance rolls off me in waves as some dude barks to the little crowd to call an ambulance and the police. “Boss,” one of the six details I’d put on my sister greets, bowing his head. I don’t spare him a second of my attention because I’d rather not shoot anyone else right now. And also because my focus is locked in the little body underneath, trying to claw her way out from the body pinning her down. The bastard beside me, as if now noticing her, runs towards the scene, lifts the dead body, and pulls my wife-to-be out. She’s a mess. A bloody, heaving mess. My gaze darkens, jaw tightening as instead of moving away from the body, she latches herself onto it, gripping an

7.

Angelica Joey is dead, and it's entirely my fault. I hug my legs closer to my chest, cradling them as the words play over and over like a cracked record skipping in my head. The plan wasn’t supposed to go like this. We should be in that small house he claimed he owns, far from here. He’s supposed to be alive. My throat tightens. I'd watched his lifeless body being taken away, blood still dripping from him, and wished I could turn the hands of time back a few days, wished I never brought up my marriage, or the dress fitting. Maybe then, he would still be here, smiling sweetly and warmly at me, letting me know how precious I am to him. He was my only support system, and now he's no more, while I'm left alone in a house that has never let me breathe. My heart leaps in my chest the moment I hear the front door bang closed. Usually, it should be impossible to hear from here, but because of how loudly it was shut, it sends a ripple of awareness through my skin. He's coming. And t

8.

AngelicaGetting married was never a part of my list because it was something I knew I’d do after gaining my freedom from Nicolas.I thought I’d meet someone nice and smart, preferably an academic, like Alex, who would cherish me. We’d have a small house that we’d fill with our laughter and children.The fabric of my dress pokes at my skin as if to remind me it’d never happen in this lifetime. I stare outside the window of my suite. The sky hangs heavy and unmoving, like it’s mourning something it can’t bring back. Just like I am.A sigh escapes my lips. I didn’t even have enough time to mourn him. The door to my suite, which was conveniently locked from the outside, pulls open and my heart races as I whip my head in its direction.“Don’t you look lovely?” Nadine giggles with her hand under her chin, her brown eyes shining with mockery, which I expected.“I can’t believe you’re getting married,” she continues, still giggling as she makes her way further into the room.“Want to know

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