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Delicate & Dangerous


Amara Bianchi- Bianchi mafia's most prized possession. the leader, Giovanni Bianchi's daughter. she is the most dangerous woman in the Italian mafia. people refer to her as the black widow, she draws people in with her charm the she strikes. delicate things are the most venomous. Harry Styles- Styles mafia most intelligent associates. the leader, Desmond Style's son. he uses mind tricks and body language reading to get what he wants out of enemies. he does'nt follow rules, he's spontaneous. he doesn't know where he's going but what happens on the way is most important. **this story contains death, sexual assault, abuse, drug use, alcohol use, sex, ptsd, and panic attacks. if these themes are triggers for you, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. the Bianchi Mafia and the Styles mafia have hated each other for years but when they are on the Rozzi mafia's hit list they do what's best to join forces. how do you make amends? find a middle ground. whats the easiest way to find a common ground? common relatives. Betrothal might do just the trick.

Romance / Action
Age Rating:

01. Business Endeavors

harry’s pov

my father and i entered the foyer of the bianchi estate. butlers took our jackets and we were met with the Bianchi family. an older man with dirty blonde hair approached us with a younger woman and a woman his age at his sides. he wore a black and white suit like my father and i and held out his hand for us to shake.

“Desmond, harry, so good to see you. meet my wife, Anastasia, and daughter Amara.” Giovanni spoke in a thick Italian accent. Anastasia wore a dark blue dress. she smiled and shook my hand and my father’s. their daughter Amara was absolutely stunning, she wore a short red dress that landed just above her knees. her long brown hair was down in loose waves. her expression stayed the same bored and unimpressed gaze. she shook our hands as well.

“follow us to the dining room. Anastasia has prepared a meal for us to discuss the matters over.” Anastasia smiled warily and guided us to a elegant room with a large rectangular table at the center. my father sat on one side with me on his left, Giovanni sat on the other end with his wife and daughter sitting next to him.

“so as we all know the Rozzi family mafia is planning to dismantle our mafia’s. Desmond and i are planning to join forces since we are both being gone after to make us stronger.” Giovanni gave us all a short synopsis of why we were there.

“yes and to ensure that we don’t fight anymore we thought that some type of white flag would be beneficial. like a common ground perhaps.” my father clarified further. a common ground? what the hell are they talking about.

“you and Amara are betrothed. and Amara, if you think you can just have a tantrum and get you way, you have no choice.” Giovanni finished and passed her a contract.

“what?” Amara and i said in unison.

“no. I’m not signing it.” she stated shaking her head. she barely gave the damn thing one look. her accent was more delicate than her fathers and a lot easier to understand. she got up to leave.

“amara, please sit down.” Anastasia calmly spoke. she kept walking to the oak double doors on the other side of the room. her heals clattered against the granite flooring.

“amara francesa Bianchi. sit down! i thought i thoroughly explained you have no choice! i did not ask you i told you!” Giovanni raised his voice at her causing her to retreat to her former seat.

“i have one condition.” she spoke quiet enough for just us at the table to hear but her tone remained confident. her gaze was not on any of us.

“and what might that condition be?” my father asked.

“give me three months.” she said shortly.

“three months?” her father questioned her.

“yes. give us three months to get to know each other and i will reconsider. i’m not marrying someone i’ve known for five minutes.” she said with hatred rooted in her voice. i was trying to keep my mouth shut because if i let if fly i knew nobody would like what came out. sure Amara was one of the most gorgeous woman i’ve ever met but I’m not going to marry her when this is the first time I’ve even seen her in person.

“i didn’t give you that opt-” giovanni started but he was cut off by desmond.

“you want three months you got it, but i have a few tasks for you both in those months. there are six things i need you to do. get a necklace of mine, the 3 million dollars and a million worth of coke antoni rozzi stole from me, a yacht he took, rob a bank in Barcelona where he’s filtering his money, destroy a warehouse of his in puerto rico, and lastly destroy the rozzi hotel in Genoa. for each task you will get instructions and payment once they’re completed but i want them done completely and both of you alive.” my father reasoned.

“this will start a war they ca-” Anastasia argued but Giovanni interrupted.

“shut up Anastasia. isn’t that the point?“Giovanni barked. he really controls his family, wonder what he’s like behind closed doors.

“deal.” i said shortly. we finished dinner and Amara and i were instructed to go get to know each other. she led me down the corridors of the large dark mansion to a room on the second level of their house. it had a huge t.v with rows of black leather chairs, a pool table, and a bar behind it. we both sat at the bar next to each other.

“whats your preference?” she said while grabbing a bottle of bourbon and pouring herself a glass.

“i’ll have the same.” i answer.

“good taste.” she smiles slightly and pours me a glass of the amber colored liquor. we sip our drinks.

“i fucking hate these ′business things.” i state letting it be a conversation starter.

“me too. i love how they think they’re literal children can be used a pawn for some mafia treaty.” she sighed taking a bigger sip of the bourbon.

“yeah. no offense or anything but i don’t want to marry you after knowing you for less than a day.” we both laugh at our situation lightly.

“none taken the feeling is mutual.” she gives a small smile.

“so how do you suggest we get to know each other.” i ask.

“what was your first impression of me? that’s always an interesting start.” she asks and finishes off her drink.

“you want an honest answer?” i cock my head and laugh a little.

“yes.” she laughs.

“well, i thought you were definitely gorgeous, you gave me this entitled and materialistic vibe at first definitely, but then you started talking. you had this whole, ‘don’t fuck with me i’ll combust your existence into little itty bitty pieces’ thing going on. i think its all a front to hide your actually soft as fuck.”

“wow, entitled and materialistic? damn. i mean materialistic, sometimes but entitled, no.” we both laugh. i notice how she weaved around my deeper head cannon.

“was i right?” i pry. i looked into her dark green eyes to see if that’s where i will find my answer.

“you were completely wrong.” she says it confidently. i would almost believer her if i wasn’t a body language reader. her pupils grew the smallest bit and on her left hand her thumb started to fiddle with her index finger. she was definitely lying, i knew it but i won’t pry anymore.

“what was your impression of me.” i say as i take the last sips of my bourbon.

“hmm. self absorbed ′bad boy’ with daddy issues. you listen to nothing and no one. you have no idea what your doing in life but you want to have fun.” she smirks and pours her and i another glass of the buffalo trace. my mouth falls open, i draw my hand up to cover my astonishment.

“you’re not wrong.“i say nodding slightly.

“mmm. i knew it.” she smiles and shakes her head. she hops off the bar stool and moves over to the rack of cue sticks off the wall.

“do you play?” she turns her head to me while she was setting up the pool table.

“not often.” i say. i unashamedly let my eyes wander her body when she bent over the pool table to put the pool balls in place. her dress hiking up her thighs the smallest bit. it felt a bit wrong but she’s practically my fiancé so whatever i guess.

“join me?” she asks smiling and stood up.

“why not.” i sigh hopping off the bar stool and slowly walk over to the racks of cue sticks. i pick a stick and saunter over behind her. i pressed my body up behind hers and grabbed the white cue ball. the dramatics weren’t needed but i wanted to see her reaction. she held her breath for a second then all of the sudden she jabbed her cue stick into my foot.

" what the hell was that for?” i whined and stumbled back a bit.

“oh. so sorry was that your foot there?” she cockily smirks and walks to the other side of the table.

“yes it was.” i scoff and role my eyes.

“oops.” she says sarcastically.

“stripes or solids?” i ask her frustratedly.

“solids.” she says matter of factly. i bend down and shoot the white cue ball at the orange stripped ball. i completely miss the socket.

“fuck.” i mutter underneath my breath earning a cocky smirk from Amara. she took her turn and knocked three balls into the sockets with one hit of the cueball. my brows furrow at the pin point accuracy she would need to make that shot which she calculated perfectly in the little window of time she had.

“i never miss.“she says triumphantly. i knew she had quiet the reputation gun shooting wise but i didn’t know the accuracy skill she had went for 8 ball too.

“damn. that’s kinda hot.” i admit shrugging.

“oh my god, shut up.” she rolled her eyes.

“sorry princess, just stating the obvious.” my smirk dissipates when a look of uncomfortablness washes over her face.

“wha-” i started before she cut me off.

“don’t call me that.” she said in a more serious tone.

“sorry i didn’t mean to offend you. um may i ask why?” i asked trying to understand further.

“no. it’s your turn.” was all she said.

“ah yeah, right.” i say awkwardly. i tried shooting a green stripped ball into one of the sockets missing again.

“pools not your thing, noted, lets go do something else.” her former comfortable sassiness was slowly creeping back.

“good idea. what do you have in mind?”

“you smoke weed?” she asked me while we were leaving the room we were just in.

“of course i do.” i answer honestly. i mean who doesn’t? it takes life’s stresses away for just a moment and puts you on a mini escape.

“follow me.” she lead me up the many flights of stairs to the 5th floor and opened the door to what i assume was her bedroom. the balls were dark green and the ceiling was white, they had intricate carvings engraved into them. a chandelier hung in the middle. there was a large window in the middle of the back wall behind the gray blanketed, un-made, bed. there were plants and old looking decor scattered around the room. i definitely was a room id’e expect she’d have.

she opened up the first draw of the small wooden storage dresser next to her bed. she pulled out a plastic bag full of the herb as well and a wrap and a lighter.

“were not smoking in here are we?” i asked curiously.

“no. my parents would freak, we’re going out there.” she said walking over to the window. she opened it up and left out of it walking to the right. i looked out to see where she had gone and i see that she has a big ledge under her window where a ladder leading up to the roof was placed.

“hope you’re not afraid of heights.” she calls down to me. i hop out onto the ledge and climb up after her. when were both on the roof she takes a seat and starts rolling the blunt. i look at the sunset skyline of Florence Italy, where they lived. it was much different from London. i’ve been to Italy a few times but the views never cease to amaze me. the girls too.

“it’s nice up here.” i stated.

“mhm.” she agreed lighting and taking a hit of the blunt. her cheeks hallowed sucking in the smoke. she handed me the blunt and i watched her lips as she blew it out. i took a long draw as well letting the smoke fill my lungs as i inhaled and escaping when i exhaled.

“back to our icebreaker questions, have you ever had a boyfriend?” i asked. she laughed out the smoke she inhaled less than a few seconds earlier.

“no.” she shook her head passing me the drug.

“really? how?” i asked astonished how she’s never had a significant other ever in her 21 years of life.

“i don’t believe in love. it’s a false idea created by people who needed something to live for. what you think is love is just obsessing over someone and giving your everything because you want to see them happy just for them to suck you dry of all of your dignity. what do you do when you have nothing left?” she asks rhetorically. love is such a controversial topic.

“well thats a grim way of looking at it.” i chuckle and let the inhalant fill my lungs and provide me the desired high.

“that was the point.” she says matter of factly.

“well i think your wrong. love is not a deposit its a transaction.” i state my claim.

“why are you relating it to money?” she asks laughing a little bit.

“let me finish and you’ll find out. you don’t just give someone your all and then you get nothing in return. you give someone your affection and they give you theirs in return. you don’t leave with nothing because its a transaction, you leave with the amount they gave you.” i give my rebuttal.

“and if they give you nothing? oh, what about if they give you counterfeit currency?” she argues.

“i guess you got me there Amara.“i sigh. this will be a fun journey.

A/N: ahhhh! first chapter! i’m excited. let me know if the chapters need to be longer or shorter, or if the visuals and gifs are annoying or something. lol anything. :) enjoy!

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