Franco Castellano drove his car back to their garage yet he didn't immediately get off. He let a few seconds pass, scrolling through his Twitter feed to waste more time and subsequently hamper facing his parents. His eyebrow rose, glimpsing at the far away photos of him and Callista. Several people voiced out their theories. It ranged from them being secret lovers to enemies with benefits.

Is our life really that interesting?

He let out a sigh, preparing to exit the app and ignore the dumb speculations when a text came through. Franco scanned the long message but he ceased comprehending at the first sentence. 'It's Valentines. There is really no romantic bone in your body.'

Franco could picture her screaming. Veins protruding from her slender neck, pale skin flushing in exasperation. Delilah Gallo was quite the spoiled brat. At first, Franco had thought they could get along, two people forced into marriage was bound to have similarities. But she was ostentatious.

Delilah cherished attention, always gunning for the spotlight by acting as the victim. She was manipulative in the filthiest way possible.

He left the car, noticing the piece of paper as it dropped on the ground. Five hundred thousand and one dollars dazzled his eyes. Others would have jumped in glee at finding such amount but Franco only felt disdain. His eyes narrowed at the lipstick stain, so perfect, so red, that his head pounded in bewilderment. The act was intimate, peculiar, and dare he said it, seductive.

Before Franco's mind could delve deeper into the eccentric actions of Callista Genovese, his parents walked out of their front door. They hovered near the porch, standing in between the tall Venetian columns. He contemplated hiding near the bushes or taking the chance to dash to his car but all that was pointless as Francisco Castellano caught his eye.

Franco clenched his jaw, traveling the white staircase to reach the group. He hid his revulsion upon seeing his fiancé, wrapped in pink silk that barely covered her ass and breasts.

Delilah tucked one of her blonde curls behind her ear. "Hey, I came to give the chocolates I baked to your mother."

Franco saw the two black bags of Noka chocolates in his mother's arm before Delilah could even finish her sentence. He tuned out the rest of her sham compliments, silently praying she would leave soon.

There were a lot of laughs from Althea Castellano. Her bob cut swayed as she exchanged praises with the Gallo girl. Franco scoffed, earning his mother's glare. She ushered Delilah's arm outside, tilting her head at his son.

"Franco, see your fiancé out," Althea said with a smile. Her face smoothened out, removing the traces of irritation she just showed.

Franco cast a short glance to his father and he nodded his permission. Clicking his tongue, Franco seized Delilah's small hand. He pulled her down the stairs, towards her waiting car. He didn't know how far his father wanted to go but her mother's expectant face said it all.

He swiveled sharply, kissing the girl on the lips. Luckily, she tasted of chocolates and it was enough for him to tangle his tongue with hers. Delilah reached up, clutching his suit jacket, moaning at the heat.

Franco pulled back, resisting the urge to wipe his lips. "Go."

Delilah's hot breath wafted on his neck. Her cerulean eyes widened in arousal. She licked her lips and stepped back.

Franco shot her a pointed look, wondering why she remained immobile. "What are you waiting for?"

"Are you with Callista earlier?" Delilah asked, nose in the air.

"And?"

The girl snorted, pale hair waving against the wind. "Vincent said she was going to a charity party. And I thought–"

"You thought wrong." Franco hardened his gaze on her. He wanted to leave now but the burning sensation from a pair of eyes behind him halted his intentions. He leaned in, placing a quick kiss on her cheek. "Good night, Miss Gallo."

Delilah forced out a smile, maroon lips stretching wide. "Good night."

Franco watched in quiet contemplation as her car sped off. He let out a relieved sigh and rushed to the mansion, envisioning that his king-sized bed was within reach. But his illusions shattered when his father came into view.

"Franco." A large hand seized him by the shoulder. His bald head glinted under the chandelier's light. "I know you don't like your fiancé but don't make it too obvious. We need her."

The foyer was brightly lit and the fireplace crackled softly from the residual embers. The sound permeated through the air as he thought of a reply. He cleared his throat. "I'm sorry, Father."

Francisco tapped his son's arm, deep blue eyes burning right at his soul. "Everything is for our revenge. Remember what the Lucianos did to your sister."

His answer never came because Althea Castellano traipsed into the foyer. The click of her heels echoed in the room. She adjusted her dark robes, the fur hugging her neck. "We're never getting anywhere because you keep babying him like that."

Mothers were said to have an unconditional love towards their children. But Althea was an exception to that rule. The woman had never regarded his son one look of love or even the tiniest bit of respect. Franco was used to it. "I'm sorry, Mother. I'll do better next time."

"As if," she sneered.

"Stop it, Althea." He scolded his wife, shooting her a stern glare. But Francisco's eyes mellowed, revealing the crinkles of his face due to his smile as he talked to his son. "Ignore your mother. I'm proud of you." His grip tightened on his shoulder, tilting his head downwards so their eyes met. "Always."

They heard a cackle from the lone woman in the room. Francisco nodded to his son, signaling for him to go. Franco was glad to leave their presence though he hoped that his father wouldn't be too angry at his wife. Althea had a tendency to blame everything on her son.

Franco slumped on his bed, arms cradling his head. He felt the crumpled paper on his pants, uncovering it again. He glared at the check, remembering Delilah's words about knowing a Vincent. He knew of only one Vincent: Vincent Ferrer aka Crazy Vin. One of the capos of the Luciano family.

Delilah's father had already cut her off and only marriage would get her back to his good graces. The money to buy those luxury chocolates fit Franco's hypothesis perfectly.

He tore the check, throwing them haphazardly. Once again, he questioned why Callista was friends with a murderer like Castor Luciano.

Franco was too young too remember what had happened to his older sister. Or how she died. But they were certain that Nicholas Luciano did it. Their whole family was a fucking menace to them. They had killed his heart, his future. Until now, his throat still burned at the painful memory.

Franco dug his fingers in his golden hair. He was going to take everything from Castor Luciano.

Including the woman he had always wanted.

✘✘

Franco Castellano sat on the marble floor, leaning against a pillar on the northern part of the library. He had a free period and he deemed it a good time to catch up to his English readings. St. Clement's library was spacious, the ceiling expansive and wide. It was seldom that people bumped into each other especially in the northern part where the classics were situated. He was halfway through the book when he heard footsteps entering his sacred space.

"Hi." He looked up, meeting the beaming face of Callista Genovese. "Do you know where the copies of Divine Comedy are?"

The boy was aware of how long he gaped at her. He couldn't help it. It was the first time Franco has seen Callista up close. And she was by far the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. Sunlight flowed through the gaps of the maroon curtain making her silhouette shimmer. Her raven locks poured over her shoulders in silky, midnight waves.

But what really captivated him was the pair of smoky eyes. It wasn't just grey. It was several shades of grey, creating a luster that was begging to be noticed.

"Uhm..." She didn't lose her smile despite the lengthy silence. "Hey?"

Franco cleared his throat, dissolving the stickiness that had formed. He shook away the enchantment as he stood up, marching to the next bookshelf. His fingers traced the spines of books. "Yeah. It's here."

Callista leaned in, bringing the scent of lavender and vanilla with her. She pulled out a copy, scanning its pages for any damage.

Franco stared at the pretty girl, indulging in it. She was in St. Clement's uniform, a long-sleeves white shirt, green checkered skirt, and a loose tie. Her forehead creased yet it didn't impede her beauty. He wanted to say something, anything because Callista had finally noticed him. His mouth parted. He closed it a few times. Then breathed out. "Callista, I—

"Caly!"

They both whirled to the source of the sound.

Castor trudged in, wheezing as he marched to their direction. He had St. Clement's green varsity jacket, covering his white tee shirt. His hair was damp and his shoes squeaked as he reached his best friend. His arms snaked around Callista's waist, his chin settling on her slender shoulder. "Darling, help me, please."

Franco clenched his jaw. Castor cast a brief glance at him, eyeing him with interest before his whole attention was caught by the girl. He looked at her with devoted eyes. Franco watched the scene unfold despite the spark of anger in his heart.

"What?" Caly asked. She attempted to turn her head but Castor tightened his embrace.

"Please write my lab report. I have a game now," he said, almost nonchalantly.

Callista twisted out of his grip. "A game? Now?" She slapped the book to his chest, silver eyes spiking in irritation. "You're failing your English class. You need to read this or you can't graduate with me next year!"

"But..." he gasped, obviously flabbergasted. "I don't read. I don't even read terms of agreement!"

Callista continued glowering at him. It prompted Castor to seize the book, opening a few pages. His green eyes skimmed the book for a few seconds before his roar came. "Shit! This is a poem! I hate poems! Just let me cheat!"

"Be quiet." Callista clamped a hand over his mouth, ceasing his vulgar complaints. "Fine! I'll help you. Meet me here later and—

"You'll read to me?" Castor clutched Callista's hand to his, lacing their fingers together. His Adam's apple quivered, waiting with bated breath for the girl's answer.

Callista placed a palm on Castor's jaw. "Of course."

A huge grin broke out of Castor Luciano's face before he remembered that somebody was watching them. Taking a quick glance at Franco, he made a coughing sound. He bit his lip in an effort to stop his smile from growing but it was still there. "Thank you, your majesty."

He kissed her cheek, hugging her to him before leaving.

"Why are you friends with him?" Franco blurted. His heart thundered but it was too late to take his question back.

Callista had a dumbfounded look. She licked her red lips. "Why not?"

"He's dumb." Franco crossed his arms. The apprehension he previously felt had vanished. "Loud, reckless, and did I mention dumb?"

Caly chuckled. A low, sweet sound that made him shiver. He loved her laugh.

"Yeah. But he's sweet to me," she replied.

Franco arched an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yes. If you get to know him. I promise," Callista answered. Her face filled with nothing but assurance. "You should hang out with us sometimes."

The sadness that smashed through his heart was unsolicited but not surprising. Francisco Castellano had strict rules in ruling his syndicate. And those rules also applied to his son.

'Never associate with a Luciano.'

"Maybe," he responded knowing that it was a lie.

✘✘
Wah, i can't believe we reached 2k!!

and i can't believe i wrote this. lol.
i'm getting better at motivating myself to write. Yey!

I love Castor! Who else loves him?

I also love Franco! Who else loves him?

Great. I'm the author but I'm torn. 😂

✘✘ lucci 👿