Claimed By The Don

Vincenzo p. o. v

He woke up each morning with the desire to do right, to be a good and meaningful person, to be, as simple as it sounds and as impossible as it actually was, Happy.

And during the course of each day his heart would descend from his chest into his stomach. By early afternoon he was overcome by the feeling that nothing was right or nothing was right for him, by the desire to be alone.

By evening he was fulfilled, alone in the magnitude of his grief, alone in his aimless guilt. Alone even in his loneliness. I am not sad, He would repeat to himself over and over.

I am not sad.

As if he might one day convince himself or fool himself, or convince others. The only thing worse than being sad is for others to know that you are sad. Because his life had unlimited potential for happiness, insofar as it was an empty white room.

He would fall asleep with his heart at the foot of his bed, like some domesticated animal that was no part of him at all. And each morning he would wake with it again in the cupboard of his ribcage, having become a little heavier, a little weaker, but still pumping. And by the mid-afternoon he was again overcome with the desire to be somewhere else or someone else.

Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not, the silence that follows when he step foot in the cafe was a painful reminder of what others think of him.

Ruthless and cold.

Often, we call a man cold when he is only sad, that’s the bitter truth of life. No one cares to know what happened behind closed doors, they only judge by what is done on the outside.

His only regret is he couldn’t change the past or what it turned him into, creating the loneliness in his heart. There are millions of people who want to be near him but only a few truly cares about him.

His family ( father, mother, two brothers, a sister and his son, they are his family not does that claim to be relatives)  Every other person’s only want something from him, mostly his life.

He never believed his heart could beat again until he saw her.

A fragile, timid and gentle girl who has caused his heart to beat for the first time in years.

She had a sculpted figure which was twine-thin. Her waist was tapered and she had a burnished complexion, a pair of arched eyebrows looked down on sweeping eyelashes. Her delicate ears framed a button nose.

A set of dazzling, Angel-white teeth gleamed as she blew gently on her carmine-red fingernails. It was a pleasure to see her flowing strawberry blonde hair, Her enticing, constellation blue eyes gaze at him over her puffy heart shaped lips.

She looks the type that have shy personality.

And when she spoke, He almost fainted from lack of breathe. Her voice so sugary it could melt any stone cold heart, even his heart that are made of rocks seem to melt by just her voice.

Who is she, he thought to himself.Text © owned by NôvelDrama.Org.

An Angel, he replied himself.

He wanted her, and thought of her being with another made his blood boil. She could erase the loneliness and bitterness he felt, He could just dragged her home but decide against it. She deserves better than that but in his heart he knew she wouldn’t be with him willingly.

He is the Mafia’s Don after all, a girl like this Angel won’t be with him, that’s why he would have her by force.

He would do anything to keep her by his side and no one could stop him.