His Mafia Obsession

Camilla's POV

"Miss Camilla, Young Master Russo has arrived." Leslie said.

"Let him wait..... I'm busy." I responded to her nonchalantly.

"Your father has requested that you meet with him immediately, Miss. He won't be pleased if the young Master gets upset." She said calmly.

I let out a frustrated sigh, paused my actions and turned towards her.

"Alright Les, I'll be down in a minute."

She bows her head slightly and leaves the room.

Leslie was my personal maid. She's more like a sister to me but always insisted on using formal terms when addressing me.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, I dropped my brush and proceeded to my wardrobe to get an outfit.

I'm almost tempted to go out to meet the asshole in my current outfit just to spite him but I know my father would literally have a stroke if he heard about it.

Angry and feeling defeated, I opted for the dress I had on the last time he was here. I put on my flats and gave my painting one last look before heading out.

The house was lively as usual with everyone going about their respective duties. I headed to the library to pick out a book I would use to keep myself busy and also picked one with the title "The Art of Smiling" for him.

Exchanging pleasantries with some staff on my way down, I headed towards the music room.

He stood by the window at the far end of the room, gazing out of the window with his hands in his pockets.

Damien fucking Russo. My betrothed and worst nightmare.

He's alert of my presence. I know from the way he turns his head slightly from my footsteps.

I don't even know why they force us to do this. Our encounters have never been pleasant.

Deciding against paying him any attention or even bothering to make small talk, I took a seat by the piano and started reading. Seeing as it was the only thing I could do to keep myself company.

No one was allowed near us during these sessions.

I read for about thirty minutes before Damien moved away from the window and settled on the sofa by the wall, making himself comfortable. Looking as stoic and unbothered as usual.

Picking up the book I had picked out earlier, I tossed it at him. It landed on his lap.

"What the fuck is this?"

"A book. It's meant for reading." I casually said.

He took a look at the title and his face contorted even more. He moved his gaze towards me immediately.

"The art of smiling. Do take your time to read it. It'll do you a lot of good." I said smugly.

If looks could kill, I'd be dead, buried and forgotten from the way he looked at me.

"Where did you pick this up?" He asked.

"Uhh, the library?"

His expression changed to a smug one.

"Wasn't there one on hygiene and the importance of wearing clean clothes?"

My jaw dropped.

"Fuck you Russo!"

He didn't say anything but maintained his smug expression.

"You know what? I didn't see one, but, I did happen to see one on sleazy bastards who forcefully claim girls." His demeanor changed.

"Watch your mouth Moretti."

"Watch yours" I threw back.

He let out a sigh, tossed the book aside and leaned back on the sofa.

Feeling frustrated, I dropped my book and started loudly playing off key on the piano.

"Cut it out." He said.

I continued my actions.

"Moretti!"

I kept going.

He stalked towards me and grabbed my arm, pulling me away from the piano and towards him.

"I said cut it out."

"You don't get to tell me what to do. You don't own me." I retorted.

"Not yet but we'll see about that in two years."

"Fuck you."

"Such vile words from pretty lips." He scoffed. I tried to ignore the fact that he called my lips pretty.

"I would never marry you. I'm going to find a way out of this." He scoffed.

"You think I want to look at you, more less marry you?"

Ouch. My pride.

"You disgust me." He said slowly, disgust laced in his tone.

That hurt.

I tried to keep my tears at bay and maintain eye contact with him. I didn't want him to see me cry.

He let go of my arm as if it disgusted him and used the wipes on the table to clean his hand and fingers.

A tear slipped out and soon I was full on crying. I was such a cry baby and I hated it.

He looked unbothered about me and resumed his position by the window.

I pulled myself together and got some wipes to clean my face.

"If you're done with your performance, listen and listen good." He casually said. His gaze trained on the window.

"I would be leaving for Italy for two years."

"What has that got to do with me?" I asked, my voice hoarse from crying.

"I'm giving you your freedom. Go out, learn, have fun, live the life you've always wanted."

"How kind and generous of you." I said sarcastically. He ignored me.

"I would return in time for our wedding after which you would leave with me."

"What part of 'I am not going to marry you' don't you understand?" I asked.

"We both know you don't have a choice." He turned towards me. "I can as well claim you. Leave with you right now to Italy and keep you by my side if I so desired to."

"My father would never allow it."

"Your father doesn't have a say in what I do with you." He replied amusedly.

"I own you Moretti. The sooner you understand that, the better it'll be for you."

That's all I have been told since I was ten. Dad has refused to give me a valid response as to why he had to sign my life away to this monster.

"You're an asshole." I said annoyed.

"I've been called worse." He shrugged.

He walked towards the table at the corner and poured himself a drink.

"Take the opportunity I am giving you Moretti. You're a wise girl."

He downed the liquid at once and set the glass down before glancing at me.

"Two years and then you're mine." He said and walked out of the room.