Luciano Vargas had never had to beg for anything before. He came from a highly respected, wealthy family which had run the Italian mafia ever since Grandpa Roma set foot in the underworld. That is, until he met (y/n). (y/n) was the heir to the greatest mafia in Spain, whose only competition for decades had been the Vargas family. Their syndicate was known for the drugs, mainly heroine, while the Vargas were infamous for selling weapons. These two clans solemnly swore to be bitter enemies till the end, or surrender to one side.

However, one night in Barcelona changed it all.

Milan, Northern Italy, xx day, August, 2014

P.O.V. change to Luciano

"Ma il fratello, bisogna venire alla riunione di stasera! L'(l / n)' s 'stanno arrivando a proporre un trattato!" Flavio screeched into the phone, most likely pissed I didn't go to the meeting last time, thinking it made us look bad. Well, I didn't give two sh*t's about missing that meeting, Flavio, so don't get your panties in a bunch.

"Look, Flavio, I'll come this time, okay?" I say to him after he finished wailing into his cell. "What time is it at?" adding a little sincerity in my voice, so he wouldn't break my ears anymore.

I heard nothing at the other end, so I assume he hung up on me. Dumb ss brother, calling me and wasting my time like that.

Then I heard someone hmphing unhappily at the other end. "Fine, but if you skip again, I'll go into your room and bend all of your knifes!" he flatly stated before ending the call.

Well, I better go get my ass ready then. "Maggiordomo, get my car ready," I snap at the stoic man standing by my bedroom door.

"Si padre, right away," he replies before bowing deeply and exiting the room. Walking over to my walk-in closet, courtesy of Flavio being the asino who absolutely insisted, I grabbed the first black tux and dress-shirt I found, along with matching black pants and sharp wing-tips. I'll never understand why Flavio and Nonno always let the servants pick out their clothes. They always pick the flashy crap.

After putting the clothes on and admiring myself in the over-sized mirror I recently had fixed, the butler came back. "Signore, the car is ready." He announced.

"What-a did I tell you about knocking, Aldo?" I said, articulating every syllable with a slight grin. Stepping painfully slow towards him, I flicked my knife out of my pocket and pricked his stub of a thumb with the point, seeing him tense up at the sharp blade which had caused the loss of his finger. "Next-a time you forget, I'll have to make the number of your fingers even." I whisper into his face, staring him down right in the face, smiling at the terror that was currently occupying it.

"S-Si Master!" he squeaked out, trying desperately to not flinch at the sight of my favorite switch-blade.

"Good," I say calmly, retracting my blade from his disgustingly sweaty hand. "The car is-a waiting, no?" I then leave him on the edge of a heart attack in my room, and make my way down to the entrance of the family mansion.

Every employee at the mansion was on both sides of the huge Persian rug that led to the door, bowing at the waist, as we demanded respect in the Vargas family. Deciding to switch up the usual going someplace routine, I grabbed my Desert Eagle and hastily shoved it in my holster, ignoring the maid holding out a Six-Shooter.

"But Young Master, your Grandfather said to use thi-"

"Don't address my-a nonno as Grandfather, ignorant American bitch," I interrupted, fully out of patience as Aldo had already used it all up over god damn knocking, "you will call-a him only Signore Roma." I coldly spoke to her, watching her tense up at her first mistake with me. Makes me laugh every time.

"Welcome to our humble casa, Vargas's," the head of the (l/n)'s grandly announced before briefly shaking hands with nonno, who was looking quite pleased with himself. What does he have planned?

Despite us being rival mafias, we haven't had an official meeting in over fifteen years. Wow, I was just a little piccino then, only about four years old. Grandpa and Mr. (l/n) were chatting lightly, while Flavio and I just walked behind them, slightly anxious to see what the (l/n) mansion was compared to ours.

Past the tall, iron gates that we had just passed, was the whole mansion itself, and a large garden off to the left of it. The mansion was three stories high, with grim, cobblestone turrets at the top, which highly contrasted to the bright, starry evening sky.

After we were led inside, we followed the owner of the estate to what we assumed would be the meeting room. "Nonno?" I quietly asked Grandpa as we tailed Mr. (l/n).

"What is it, mi nipote?" he calmly replied.

"We aren't here for discussions, are we?" I questioned.

"No, Luciano, we in fact are not here for some futile discussions." He answered back. "We are here to congratulate you."

For what? "Did I do something good Nonno?" I ask, truly puzzled as to what he was talking about.

"No son, we're congratulating you for what you're going to do, very soon." Mr. (l/n) cut in, stopping right in front of a huge banquet hall, laden with all sorts of party things in the entire room.

"We'll tell you later, unless you figure it out, that is," Flavio exclaimed, "so for now, just enjoy everything!" They all proceeded to sit at the huge table, near the head of the table, where a small ring laid on the ivory plate.

"What's that-a for?" I asked them as I proceeded to sit down and further inspect the gold band. It was too slim for my fingers, yet too plain to attract a wealthy person's eye, like myself. When nobody answered my question, I shrugged my shoulders and put the ring in my pants pocket.

Mr. (l/n) then stood up from his seat across the long table, directly thirty feet in front of me. "And now, the entertainment!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands twice, and then everything happened all at once. Silk lines dropped out from the ceiling, along with the performers, who entwined themselves into the fabric seamlessly. Two masked women in waitress outfits came through the door and started pouring a fine red into the empty glasses.

After taking a sip from my glass, I turned my attention back to the performers above me, dancing effortlessly across the open air, who were swiftly dodging each other with ease. As the classic "Habeñera" from "Carmen" was drifting in the air along with the dancers, something caught my attention.

In the midst of the twenty or so dancers, a bella donna was perched precariously on a swing that was attached to the ceiling high above, and she was singing Carmen's part handsomely. Unlike the dancers, she wasn't wearing a tight red leotard that matched the crimson columns of drapery, but donned in a strapless cobalt blue dress that fit her like a glove, and a green mask that had peacock feathers on the sides. Her (h/c) hair was braided tightly against her head tied back with a black bow, and her soft looking (s/c) legs hanging over her seat, barefoot.

"Who is that lovely lady?" I whisper to Flavio, who's sitting to my right, babbling incessantly about something stupid.

"Hmm, which one?" he glanced at me, looking above him for the bella I was talking about. After looking for a little, he pointed at her, before asking for confirmation. "Her?"

"Si." I confirm, glancing back at her lithe frame fixed in the swing, still belting out the Habanera in her wonderful soprano. "I would like to know more about her."

"Ah! Okay then, I know-a a little about her." Flavio exclaimed, before clapping his hands together and clearing his throat. "That splendida signora is (first and last name), who's (age) years old, and is the current heiress of the (l/n) family."

The heiress?! Then that must mean… "So, does that mean that we're really here for my proposa-"Duh! The only thing is, she's your target, not your fiancé," Flavio cut in, "it was Grandpa's idea!" What, I have to kill her?!

"Yeah, you can-a either marry her and end our feud, or… Kill-a her and cut off the (l/n) family line, making us the victors of this-a horrible war!" Flavio concluded briefly, leaning forward to see my expression. "So, what-a are you going to do?"

Otome the first f***ing time?! What is wrong with me? Well, you guys can either have poor Luciano kill you for the win, or have his sexy self propose to you . What ever shall you do? Leave your opinion's in the comments below!