My leg shook as I sat on the private jet with Luka. He was getting on my last nerve with all of his demands.

"Shut up," I said through clenched teeth.

"You don't cook, you don't clean, what the hell do you do?" He stressed.

"I kill people. I am a murderer," I stressed.

"Well you need to learn to be a wife, cook, clean, have children," he commanded. I let out a dry laugh.

"The day I cook for you will be the day you die of rat poisoning," I threatened.

"How do you expect us to live if you don't fulfill your wifely duties?" He asked.

"Hire a maid," I said dryly.

"What about children? Could you at least give me those?" He pleaded.

"I don't plan on being married to you long enough to even think about children," I confessed.

"What do you mean?" Luka asked, leaning forward in his seat.

"After this cartel business is over we're getting a divorce and I'm going back to America to my family," I told him.

"Oh no," he argued, "I do not believe in divorce."

"You'll get over it. This is not 1920, I have a gang to run when I get back," I said crossing my arms over my chest.

"I don't think we're going to agree on this. Let's just drop it," Luka reasoned.

"So, when we get to Italy how are we going to do this?" I asked.

"We will arrive in Italy at seven in the morning. My men will be waiting to take us to the church where everyone will be waiting. We will get ready in the church, your dress and makeup will be waiting for you," he explained.

"Do you know what the dress looks like?" I asked. He nodded and pulled out hia phone, I looked at it as he leaned across the isle and showed me the picture. It was a beautiful long, strapless white gown that flowed straight to the floor.

"It's beautiful," I mumbled. Luka nodded and sat back in his seat.

"Who's going to be there?"

"A few close friends and family," Luka answered, I nodded.

"So, do you live in a mansion or what?" I asked.

"No, I lived in a penthouse but since we're getting married I decided to move us into a house," Luka answered.

"You don't plan on doing any of that honeymoon bullshit do you?" I asked, as my phone vibrated. I looked at the message and cursed under my breath.

"What is wrong?" Luka asked, his accent thick with concern.

"My dad got shot," I mumbled as I tapped away on my phone.

"You don't seem too worried," Luka pointed out.

"He's fine," I shrugged, "it's not his first time being shot and it won't be his last."

"You have a very interesting relationship with your father," Luka pointed out.

"Your point?" I asked, uninterested.

"Why do you act as if you don't like him," He pryed.

"I don't like him," I clarified.

"Why?" I wasn't looking at him but I could tell by his tone of voice that his face was twisted in confusion.

"We're business partners first, not father and daughter. And he's annoying," I shrugged.

"Is that why you act so tough? Because of your father?" He asked with concern.

"Stop trying to analyze me," I laughed ,"I'm just mean. My dad made me this way and I'm glad he did." It was the truth, I like being a monster. I guess my answer was good enough for Luka because he didn't ask anymore questions. I just lied back and closed my eyes, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

**********