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Married to my Enemy
A Bad Boy Marriage Romance
By Nicole Elliot
CHAPTER 1
Giovanni
Like one of the oldest clichés in existence said, it was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.
I pulled up outside of the rundown apartment complex and sat in my car for a moment, mentally preparing myself for the task ahead. When I’d gotten the call from my father earlier in the morning, I already knew what was coming, practically sensing his words before he even spoke them.
“Son, I need you to take care of some business.”
“Who?” I had asked.
“Someone who hasn’t been repaying his debt. He owes me, and I want the money. Now.”
I stared at the raggedy building before me, knowing that once I left, it was imperative that I had either good news or money, for my father.
Luca Romano would accept nothing less.
“All right—let’s fucking do this,” I said, giving myself a pep talk as I stepped out of my car. I pulled a pair of sunglasses from the pocket of my jacket, put them on, and walked briskly toward the apartment complex. A couple of teens stood outside the entrance, laughing and talking while bouncing a basketball. Perhaps sensing something dangerous about me, they stepped aside, permitting me a clear path to enter.
The inside of the apartment complex didn’t look much better than the outside, and the air held a musty and stale aroma that would have made me gag if I hadn’t been used to entering some of the most downtrodden areas of the city. I grimaced slightly as I made my way to the stairwell, not caring to use the rickety elevator. Besides, running up a few flights of stairs was a good way to get my adrenaline pumping, which I certainly needed.
Ignoring how the stairs groaned under my heavy shoes, I jogged up to the third floor, and I set off down the hallway. I pulled the slip of paper from my pocket where I had written down the apartment number. When I found the right door, I reached into my pocket for a third time, pulling out a hair band. My hair had grown quite long over the years, and my father urged me repeatedly to get it cut, insisting that my hair looked better suited for the daughter he didn’t have. But I ignored him. I’d grown fond of my hair, for it made me look more mysterious and menacing. And as an added bonus, women loved it.
But for tasks like the one ahead of me, it only got in the way. So, after securing it into a ponytail, I took a deep breath and then knocked on the door.
“Who is it?” a nasal voice asked from the other side of the thin wood.
I responded by knocking more aggressively.
“All right, all right,” the voice said. “Hold your horses.” Several locks clicked and slowly, the door began to creak open. A cloudy eye peered out at me. “Who are you?”
Showtime, I thought to myself.
In one swift motion, I slammed my arm against the door, forcing it to swing open. The guy on the other side—Tommy—swore as it hit him painfully in the head.
Forcing my way inside, I slammed the door shut behind me and locked it to ensure that we wouldn’t be interrupted.
“Man—who are you? I’m going to call the cops!” Tommy yelled.
“No,” I said, advancing on him. “I don’t think you will.”
“You have no right to be here!”
“And you have no right to hold on to the money you owe my father.”
“Y-Your father? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“That’s funny because I think you do.” I snatched the sunglasses off my face and returned them to my pocket, wanting the guy to see my full face. I knew I looked a lot like my father, especially around the eyes. Mine, like my father’s, were a golden amber.
“Y-you’re a Romano?”
I gave the most unnerving smile I could muster. “That’s right. How did you guess?”
“Listen, man—”
“No, you’re the one who’s going to do the listening right now.”
I stormed through the apartment, trying my best not to shudder. The place was filthy. Dirty clothes and unwashed dishes scattered every inch of the floor, but I made no effort to avoid stepping on as much of it as I could.
“Come on, man!” Tommy said. “Watch the dishes. You’ll break them!”
“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have them lying around on the damned floor,” I said. “This place is a pigsty.”
“Oh yeah? Then maybe you should just leave then.”
“Not until I’ve said my piece.” I pulled out an old rickety chair from beside a shabby wooden coffee table. Several bugs scurried for cover. Again, I suppressed a shudder, already desperate to get out of this filth. I was going to completely lose it if anything crawled on me. I clenched my teeth together, thinking about how my father owed me for making these kinds of errands for him because I wasn’t sure how much longer I could stand doing them.
Nevertheless, I kept on my brave face and fixed Tommy with my sternest gaze. “Come here. Sit,” I said. Tommy folded his arms, apparently not appreciating being offered a seat in his own apartment. But I didn’t care. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” I warned.
“What’s the hard way? This, isn’t it? Because you sure could have fooled me.”
I laughed and cracked my knuckles. A look of panic crossed Tommy’s face. I almost felt bad about what I was going to do to him. He was tall but exceptionally skinny, and by no means would it be a fair fight.
I reached across the room and grabbed his arm, making sure to painfully twist it as I forced him into the chair. He let out a howl as his butt hit the seat. I then positioned myself directly in front of him, squeezed his shoulders, and brought myself down to his eye-level. It was uncomfortable being so close to his face; I could smell his breath, which reeked of cigarettes and stale sour-onion potato chips.
“Where’s my father’s money?” I said.
“I don’t have it.”
“Wrong answer.” I backhand slapped him hard across the face, the rings on my fingers drawing blood from the side of his mouth.
Tommy sputtered for a moment, taking a while to recollect himself. “Look—I don’t have it yet! All right? I don’t have it!”
I balled my fist and punched him on the other side of the face. “Still not the right answer, Tommy.”
“I don’t know what else you want me to tell you,” he said, his voice distorted from the blood pooling his mouth.
“Oh, come on,” I said. “I know you aren’t that stupid. You know exactly what I want you to say. So, let’s try this again. Where is my father’s money?”
“I’ll have it next week. I swear! I’ll have it next week.”
I stepped back and folded my arms. “Hmm…Next week.” Just for dramatic purposes, I swung my hand back, pretending that I was going to hit him again. Tommy cowered in his seat. I laughed. “I guess next week will do,” I said. “However, you better not be lying to me. Otherwise, I’ll be back, and I promise you, my next visit won’t be so fun.”
I put my hand under my jacket, right at my hip, creating the illusion that I was armed.
Tommy’s eyes widened, and he vigorously nodded his head. “Next week, I p-promise,” he stuttered.
I clasped my hand at his shoulder. “Nice doing business with you,” I said, and then let myself out of the apartment.
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