PROLOGUE

The world was never
ready for someone like him—the kind of villain who had the power to crush
everything in his path, yet was still unknowingly on the brink of being saved
by the very one he never expected: her.

He, the man who would
always seize the world and lay it at his feet, knew no mercy. She, however,
understood the brutal truth of their world—a chaotic realm built on bloodshed
and death. Their lives weren’t a fairy tale; there were no guarantees, no promises.
They both knew the cost.

As their fingers
brushed, as their lips met, as their faces became etched into each other’s
memories, they were reminded of something far more fragile than the love they
could share. Everything could vanish in an instant. Everything was at risk in
this unrelenting war, where evil had a way of creeping back, no matter how many
battles were won.

A loss. A night soaked
in destruction. That’s all it took to ignite the fire between them—a night that
plunged them into a game of corruption, where both would play their parts.

The mafia thrived in
the heart of turmoil, in disputes that never ceased, in the constant ebb and
flow of power. And now, with the fall of the 'Ndrangheta leaders to the
Marinos, Salvatore had a mess to clean up, all while trying to prove to her
that the twisted love he could offer was worth something.

A love laden with
darkness—filled with desires that could never be condoned, let alone
celebrated. And yet, she was willing to yield, to embrace the beast she found
herself drawn to, eager to submit to the very chaos that ran through his veins.

Two broken souls,
tangled in a web of pressure, pain, and hunger for something neither of them
could have imagined. Together, they could love. Together, they could hate.
Together, they could desire. And, without hesitation, they could kill for one
another. They would.

No mercy. No regrets.
Only the madness of what they had become, and what they were willing to
sacrifice.

CHAPTER 1

I'M NOT READY

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Salvatore

My brothers and I stand before the two
caskets, everyone dressed in black, soldiers scattered to secure the cemetery
where the Marino family has been laid to rest for ages. I glance at the watch
my father gifted me; it reads five in the afternoon, and this chaos is
unbearable.

Ginevra wipes her face, trying to erase all
traces of tears. She is the most sensitive, the pampered one, and I know she is
hurting from the loss of our parents because they meant everything to us.

Even though our upbringing was harsh, they
always found time to love us as their children, not just as future mafia
leaders. I feel my brother Leone's gentle nudge, a gesture of support; I sense
them all close yet so far away.

I wasn't prepared to take charge of
everything. As the eldest, I have new responsibilities, one of which is to
restore order within the mafia. I can't forget my second objective: to avenge
the bastards who murdered our parents. They were simply on vacation in the
waters of Italy, ready to enjoy time together until they were ambushed, leaving
the yacht drenched in blood.

Despite their flaws, and though I can never
forgive Mom and Dad, I must exact my vengeance on Alessio Rinaldi.

It's just the four of us and the guards; there
are no emissaries, no soldiers, no associates, no consigliere, or any other
clan member to bid farewell to the heads of this empire we've sustained for so
long.

—What are we going to do?

Domenico asks, clearly confused; this has all
happened too quickly for us to process.

No one knew they would attack our parents.

No one knew things were about to change
starting today.

"I don't have the strength to handle
everything today," I reply solemnly, the knot in my throat tightening.
"Go home, stay there, because the Rinaldi will be lurking to take us out.
Follow the -fucking orders."

"Where are you going?"

My little sister grabs my arm when she
realizes I'm about to leave before they bury our parents.

"I don't owe you an explanation," I
shake off her grip. "Follow the orders."

"Hey, Salvatore," Leone interjects.
"You shouldn't talk to her like that; she's hurting too."

"I don't give a -fucking; I’m not in the
mood for nonsense right now."

I walk away from everyone because I need a -fucking
drink to calm my frayed nerves. I head into the Marino mansion, pushing past
people, and when they see me removing my tie, they wisely choose not to
intervene, knowing I could snap necks at this point.

I slam the door of the private bar where
business is conducted. The portrait of our parents remains untouched; I glare
at it and immediately grab the nearest bottle of alcohol, hurling it against
the wall.

I break down in tears, overwhelmed with
frustration. They meant everything to me, despite their mistakes. They taught
me to be ruthless, to be fair, to be visionary, and countless other things that
I polished to become their pride. But not my own pride. I grab a second bottle,
using a knife to pop the top off and pour myself a drink in a large glass, then
approach my parents' portrait.

"Dante Marino and Iliana Marino," I
trace my fingers over their names embossed on the frame. "Why the hell did
you have to leave me? It is all going to hell because of my -fucking
incompetence."

There’s no answer; I only see their wide
smiles, gazing upwards, never downwards, because we never indulge in looking at
those beneath us.

I take a large swig, letting the liquor burn
my throat, where the pain I try to hide resides. Now I must do it all; I must
become the Don responsible for the family, and I ask myself again.

Is this the moment?

I don’t know, because right now, I can’t hug
Ginevra, I can’t talk to my brothers, and I can’t face these -fucking people
waiting for new instructions.

The Rinaldi have always been our worst
enemies. We can’t be with any women because they will use them against us; we
can’t throw a fucking party because they are always lurking, we can’t enjoy our
lives, we can’t put our guards down. And all of this… all this stems from a
conflict years ago when my grandfather killed Rinaldi's sisters.

Now he’s the last one standing; it used to be
four, and now there's only one left, still trying to screw with me, convinced
that he must kill all of ours until no one remains or until I’m the last one
standing to fight.

The door swings open, and Leone steps in. I
quickly turn to wipe my face.

"You’re in charge of all this now; you
might be three years younger, but I won’t let you run the family into the
ground just because you can’t control yourself," he asserts, as if I care
about his bullshit right now. "Ginevra is only seventeen; she needs us now
more than ever. Don’t worry, Domenico and I can handle things; I just ask that
you don’t speak to her like that."

"She needs to toughen up, -damn it!"
I shout as I turn to face him. "We can’t be coddling her all the time,
telling her sweet stories and sipping tea whenever she wants. Our parents are
dead, and now she has to do her part."

"What part, Salvatore?" He stands
firm, confronting me like the bastard he is. "She’s only seventeen; You
want her to just become a prostitute for our clubs or what? She fucking needs
to grow up; she needs time, to find a place, and decide for herself what she
wants to do in the 'Ndrangheta."

I wipe my lips with the back of my hand, take
another large gulp, and push the glass aside. Right now, it’s not just him
suffering; I am too, but I do it silently, which they dismiss because I’m not
gonna be shedding tears all over the place.

They don’t care about me; they care about me
keeping them afloat.

But who does that for me?

"All of you can go to hell for today; let
me live, let me cry, and..."

"Get drunk? Do whatever the fuck you
want, but when you come back, speak to me first before you talk to our siblings."

"I am the leader now!" I bark,
enraged. "My parents are dead; I become Don, and you all have to follow my
fucking orders because... because I just want to protect you!" I smash the
glass against the table and slam my hands down on its edge. "I just want
to be left alone... "

He approaches slowly, keeping his hands in his
pockets until he rests one on my back.

"You can destroy yourself all you want;
you have every right to do so, but it can’t go beyond today. We’ve already lost
so much. You know damn well Alessio will not stop, he will continue with what
we cherish most, and I’m talking about Ginevra."

"Yeah, -damn it, I know!"

Tears stream down my face; I feel the burn
radiating through my body. Right now, I wish with every fiber of my being I
could just drive to Apulia and tell that bastard to screw off, to fucking kill
him with my own fists, for ruining my existence.

I hear Leone leave, leaving me alone. I assume
in a few hours, Domenico will be here, followed by Ginevra trying to cheer me
up. So, I decide to leave, before they even try.

At this moment, I don’t care if Alessio puts a
bullet in my head.

Let him do it, because the pain I feel right
now is unbearable.

Because everything will be lost once I take
the reins anyways.

I get into my car to leave the house. We own
several nightclubs where people enjoy themselves day and night. I don’t analyze
things; I just arrive at the nearest one and park.

I push everyone aside in line, entering
without hesitation and heading straight to the bar. It’s still early for some,
but I can already count at least fifty heads dancing to the music.

"I don’t want to be spoken to in the
private area; I don’t want even a -fucking mosquito buzzing in my ears."

I signal to the bouncer guarding the entrance
to the private section, stepping in to take a seat on the plush couches. The
waiter approaches with a covered tray; when he uncovers it, I see a bag of
cocaine. I take it, waving him away.

I draw three lines on the surface, tracing
them with my credit card, rolling up a bill from my wallet to lean in and snort
the powder.

I inhale every last grain of white dust.

Letting it flood my brain, my system, I feel
the effects within minutes. I close my eyes as the club's music plays, bobbing
my head to the rhythm, recalling every wonderful memory I had while it was just
me and my little responsibilities.

Now they have doubled, tripled, hell, I don’t
want to think anymore.

*I Don't Need Your Name* by Rosenfeld echoes
throughout the place, and I stand to survey the crowd below; more people have
arrived. A couple of friends are having a blast, a pair dances while touching
each other’s bodies, and a petite woman sits at the bar, staring into her
drink.

What a bore.

I continue wandering, lost in the haze of the
evening, but then—almost like a magnet—I find my gaze drawn back to her. The
raven-haired girl. There’s something almost surreal about the way she moves,
those red heels clicking against the floor with an elegance that makes
everything around her seem to slow. Her legs seem to go on forever, each step a
silent promise of something more.

She checks her watch, her fingers brushing
against the sleek surface, and for a moment, I think I see a flicker of
impatience in her eyes. She glances at the door, a barely perceptible sigh
escaping her lips, but it’s the way her fingers linger on the rim of her
untouched drink that pulls me in deeper. Restless. Her movements speak louder
than words—her fingers tracing circles, betraying the unease that coils within
her, even though she’s trying to mask it.

I can’t look away. Something is about to
happen.

Maybe she will be my perfect escape tonight.

Without realizing it, I’m descending the
stairs, weaving through the crowd until I take a seat next to her. She doesn’t
even notice my presence, so I order another drink and watch her over her
shoulder.

She stands there, lost in thought, the weight
of something unspoken hanging in the air. It’s like there’s a storm brewing
behind her eyes, something dark and haunting that refuses to let go. But even
beneath the turmoil, I see it—the strength. The hardened expressions, the
slight furrow of her brow, the clenched jaw. She’s not easily broken.

She’s a wildcat, the way she holds herself,
like a predator waiting for the right moment to strike. Her hands clench around
the rim of her drink, like she’s holding onto something that could slip away.

She’s the kind of woman who might roar in
defiance one moment, only to need someone to pull her back from the edge the
next. A little baby, craving guidance, but never willing to ask for it. I can
feel her vibe, it’s a strange mix—dangerous yet fragile. I can’t help but
wonder if I’m the one she’s been waiting for.

"Are you here alone?"

"Uhm, yes."

She doesn’t turn to look at me; my body
instinctively shifts to face her directly. When my gaze penetrates hers, she
finally looks over. She has tempting lips, an angelic smile, large eyes with
thick lashes, and brown eyes that shine like gold.

"Are you waiting for someone?"

"Maybe," she shrugs. "What
about you?"

" Don’t you recognize me?

—Should I?

I scrutinize her composed figure; she doesn’t
flinch or escape, which is alarming because a single word from me should have
put her on high alert, ready to survive.

Part of me wants her to run in fear after
realizing who I am, and another part wants her to stay right here.

"You look upset," she observes
calmly. "As if you’re... sad."

"And you look incredibly bored."

"At the moment, I am. I just broke up
with my boyfriend; he kicked me out of the apartment, and I’m still trying to
find a place to stay without being a burden. No interesting challenges to keep
me busy at the moment, just... trying to keep it together."

I lick my lips.

"And your parents?"

"They're older, and I don't want to
bother them. I'm an adult; I should be responsible for myself right?"

"You mentioned challenges," I muse.
"Do you enjoy them?"

She smiles faintly, revealing a perfect grin,
my eyes drifting to the subtle cleavage accentuated by her medium-sized
breasts. I swallow hard, pairing the bitter taste of my thoughts with the
alcohol.

" Challenges are a kind of divine gift
when you know how to face them and are determined to conquer them. They’re what
keep me alive.”

"What was your last challenge?"

"It's… kind of disgusting, and a bit personal."

"For me, there are no such things; my
world and everything involving me are too dark to be shocked by trivial
matters."

She bites her lips, and the pulse in my groin intensifies,
already feeling aroused. I shift my legs slightly to conceal it.

"I gave my boyfriend a Russian blowjob in
his office; I usually don’t do that kind of stuff, but he never expected me to,
and that’s why I did it. It was a sexual challenge, you know."

Certain words explode in my mind, yet I
hesitate to intrude on matters that don’t concern me and honestly, I don’t care
about.

"Interesting," I point to her chest.
"You have nice breasts."

"And I bet you have a nice cock."

Shit.

I erase the smile from my face, sitting up
straight in the chair and looking ahead so my eyes won't wander onto her body
and hers won't linger on mine. She knows how to seek challenges, how to
initiate them, and how to manipulate the environment to get herself a good
deal.

—Why are you here by yourself?

—Because I came to find someone to please me.
I won’t cry anymore over an idiot who is only addicted to video games and beer.
I won’t do any of that again —she sighs—. I’m looking fun.

—I see, that's something one notices right
away.

—Well, I don’t see anyone here offering me an
amazing night.

—Nights are the busiest.

—I don’t like spending nights with men; they
could be killers.

The naive smile appears again on my lips;
there’s something captivating about it, something enveloping that can be used
and then discarded.

—Let’s go for a challenge, principessa —I
murmur—. Are you too open or too closed?

—Tight, depending on the occasion.

Daughter of a bitch.

I massage my chin to resist the urge to take
her right here at the bar while everyone watches us.

—I want you to do a line of this.

I place the cocaine on the bar, arrange it
with my card, and hand her the rolled-up bill. I can’t let her have feelings; I
need her to forget even my -fuckinged name if she happens to hear it or if I
tell her while I’m with her.

—I don’t do that, just alcohol.

—Then you’re not a woman of challenges; you’re
a coward.

—You’re just a man who wants to drug me and
then use me.

—Isn’t that what you were looking for?

She thinks about it for a moment and looks
away from me, turning on the stool to see the crowd. She gets off and seems
ready to walk away. I won’t allow it; I grab her arm to keep her from escaping.

—You’re too boring.

—You do it first, then. I want you to.

—No problem.

I press the bill against the powder, snort it,
and let it settle until I feel remnants in my throat that I wash down with my
drink.

"Who are you?"

—That shouldn’t matter to you, miss.

—What’s your name?

—You don’t need my name to have the best
afternoon of your life.

She doesn’t care because she turns to mingle
with the crowd. I end up huffing and telling her my -fuckinged name.

—Salvatore.

She halts her movement and returns to her
stool, noticing that there’s not a trace of the drug sold in this very spot.

—Are you a killer?

—More than that. Actually, you have the chance
to escape right now so I won’t hurt you.

She taps her fingers on the bar.

—Would you hurt me?

—If we fuck, yes, especially since I’m high.

—Would you really hurt my body?

—I already told you yes.

A delicious pain that only she is capable of
accepting. Just because she’s a precocious animal doesn’t mean I’m going to
force her; there’s a certain pleasurable pain in sex that many people enjoy.
That’s why masochists exist, right?

I notice the spark in her eyes; something is
bothering her. She stops thinking and takes my hand, leading me to the dance
floor where she starts to dance for me. I feel her body very close to mine,
feeling her warmth mixing with mine.

—What’s bothering you
right now?

—That
they never appreciated what I did; they threw me out as if I were an animal,
packed my things in bags, and there was already a woman on top of his legs
fucking him.

—Your
silly heart is broken, isn’t it?

—I’m
trying to fix it.

My
lips stretch into a grin, and I run my tongue along her neck until I reach her
ear. She has several piercings and earrings adorning her ear; I bite until she
pulls away. She laughs, loosens her hips, and touches me without fear.

—Didn’t
mommy tell you that talking to strangers is dangerous?

—You
talked to me first.

—You
followed me and didn’t run away.

—You’re
my challenge —she pushes against my chest with her hands—. Not me; I want to
have a good fuck, and I’ll be the one to fuck you, not the other way around.

—I
doubt you’re capable.

She
wraps her fingers around my arm and I see she’s about to lead me to the
bathroom. I shake my head because there’s a larger restroom for VIPs, so I
guide her up to the first floor. We enter the bathroom where she immediately
attacks my neck; I tug at her hair, she pushes me back, I push her back, and...

—What’s
bothering you, Salvatore?

"Nothing
important."

—Then
there’s no sex for you.

I
glare at her and push her until her ass hits the sink counter.

—My
parents died today; I buried them today. Today I become a leader, and today...
I don’t want to think.

—I’m
sorry.

—That’s
exactly why I didn’t want to talk.

I
turn her roughly, searching for her legs, lifting her dress and letting it
bunch up around her waist. I see her black lace panties; I pull them down and
she gasps when she feels me grab her ass.

—Weren’t
you going to fuck me, principessa?

—You’re
holding me too tight; I’m just letting you surprise me.

She
laughs, and I’d love to have her mouth on my cock.

—I
told you I’d hurt you, principessa.

I
unbuckle my pants, pull out a condom, and try to stop her when she wants to
turn around. She’s strong and manages to push me down onto the toilet; we start
to fight, I try to fuck her, and she tries to fuck me first.

She
ends up climbing on top of me and takes my member in her hands.

—This
is big, and hard.

—Put
it in already and let me fill that virgin pussy.

—I’m
not a virgin.

"I
don’t believe you."

She
starts to stroke my shaft, expertly jerking me off while I admire her neatly
trimmed triangle. I run my fingers over her pubis, which has hair, caressing
and groaning as she speeds up. She pumps with force; I know what she’s doing,
but the drug isn’t allowing me to act properly.

Up
and down.

She’s
jerking me off.

I rub
her clit until she pulls the condom off, drops it to the floor, and I cum on
her hand. My head spins, I travel through various moments, reminding myself
that I was the one who should have pinned her against the wall to destroy that
tight pussy.

I
gasp; I can’t catch my breath, and I don’t know where my head is. She stands
up, takes her panties, hands them to me, and then approaches the door.

—I
just made you cum with my hand; I told you you were my challenge, Salvatore.

"You’re
a bitch."

—The
bitch who made you cum. —She winks—. Doesn’t the Don of the Mafia have control
over his impulses? I see he doesn’t. See you.

She
closes the door, leaving me with a hard cock full of my own semen overflowing
onto my balls. I clean myself up, toss the condom in the trash, wash my face,
let the cold water bring me back, and laugh at myself when I see my reflection
in the mirror.

I
started thinking it was my own challenge, my game, but now I see it wasn’t.

It
was her challenge from the beginning, and I just came in her hand.

-fucking,
I can still feel her slender fingers closing around me, squeezing me; I think
and think, imagining her body. I analyze the panties she gave me, and bringing
them to my nose feels like pure drug entering my system, exploding my neurons.

The
elastic of the lingerie smells like her fragrance; I inhale until I realize I’m
a fool.

I
can’t do it this way.

I
won’t get anything today except death.

I’m
shattered; I let myself be touched, let myself go, thinking I was in control,
but that’s not true.

—I
want them back; I’m not ready, -damn it!

I
slam my fist against the glass, my knuckles split open, and I drop to the
floor, defeated in every sense. I stash the panties in my pocket and let myself
cry because I’m an idiot.

I’m a
fool.

I’m
an idiot.

I’m
everything wrong in this world, just surrendered to being a -fucking drug
addict.

—I’m
not ready; I’m not.

There’s
no way to prevent my world from collapsing because I have to become someone I
don’t want to be. Alessio took away my freedom; Alessio shattered everything I
had under control, and I didn’t measure the time I had left because I assumed
I’d touch the throne of that empire when I was ready.

But
I’m not ready yet.

I
don’t know how to be a Don.

I
don’t know how to be a good brother.

I
don’t know anything about the life awaiting me.

CHAPTER 2

LAST DAY OF HAPPINESS

━━━━━━✧❂✧━━━━━━

Sienna

4 months later - May 4th

Things were going better than I expected. I
had a small apartment that I kept running, paying the rent the best I could. I
didn’t come from wealth—just enough to get by, no more, no less. We weren’t the
type to flaunt anything we didn’t have. But make no mistake, we had our share
of secrets, hidden deep, waiting to stay buried.

By night, I worked at a quiet library, a place
few knew to visit. By day, I spent my mornings at a kindergarten, surrounded by
innocence. People thought I had a hard edge, but with children, it was
different. Soft. I wasn’t who they thought I was.

I gathered the drawings from my little ones,
their tiny hands leaving their mark on the canvases. Tomorrow, once they’re
dry, we’ll write their names, turn them into something special for their homes.
A small gesture, but one that meant everything to me.

—Goodbye, Mrs Fiore. 

—Goodbye, Rudi. 

—I love you, miss. 

—I love you too, Hector. 

The parents arrive to pick up their kids, and
I stay behind for another twenty minutes to clean up the mess. I toss my
paint-streaked smock into my bag—another item to wash and return spotless
tomorrow. My colleagues have already left, and as I see my best friend by the
door, I grab my things, ready to leave. 

—You done? 

—Yeah, we did the handprints. 

—I saw the multiplication tables. —He shrugs,
hoisting his backpack over one shoulder—. I love these little ones too
much. 

—Wanna grab something to eat? 

—Of course, miss. 

The word catches me off guard for a moment, a
reminder of that day when I set everything aside to embrace challenges. I’ve
always sought them out. They keep me alive. And when Salvatore came into my
life, I knew I had to show him a little vulnerability, just enough to have him
exactly where I wanted him. Vague memories flood my mind: his warmth spilling
over against my hand, the heavy, solid feel of him, the veins under my
palm... 

—Pizza or sushi? 

—Sushi. Last week was pizza. 

—You’re right. 

He knows me better than anyone. He always
does. From the first minute, he knew Fabian wasn’t the one for me. David’s the
type to keep track of everything—news, gossip, everything. When I told him
about Salvatore, he went pale and silent for ten minutes straight. 

David’s family is a whole different world:
doctors, accountants, lawyers. He’s the only one who went into education, so
he’s always been the smart one. His cousin Eva is a lawyer, known as the
Devil’s Lawyer for taking on high-risk cases. One of them was against Domenico
Marino, Salvatore’s brother, just two months ago. Eva got Domenico off without
a scratch. 

Of course, it came with a price—over ten
million euros to keep things quiet and expedite the process. Calabria’s under
constant threat from the Rinaldi and Marino families, always in the news for
some massacre or another. Everyone knows they’re at war. And Salvatore? He’s
playing his cards carefully, ready to make his move. 

David and I chat as we stroll down the street
toward the sushi restaurant. We’ve been to all kinds of places, trying new
dining spots no matter where we are. Being in Italy doesn’t stop us. I’ve
sampled a bit of everything, and while David insists that tacos from Mexico
don’t compare, I’m inclined to disagree. 

We place our order, and I notice the steady
stream of people asking for tables. 

—Did you see the news? 

—No, but I’m guessing there’s been another
massacre. 

—Happened near where you live. —I purse my
lips. He’s right. Three days ago, three corpses were found. Rinaldi hitmen,
apparently, and Salvatore Marino had them killed. 

To be honest, I haven’t been able to forget
his name. It lingers in my mind, especially with David always bringing it up.
He’s a gossip, after all. Knows everything from celebrity diets to mafia
dealings. 

—And what’s that to me? I didn’t kill
them. 

—I’d prefer you stayed with me for a while.
Those areas are getting dangerous, and I suspect the Marinos are watching
you. 

—Why would they do that? 

—Because you met Salvatore, you jerked him
off, and left him like a statue. 

—That has nothing to do with it. I’m not
interested. 

—Sienna... —David’s voice takes on a warning
tone—. I know you haven’t forgotten him. You don’t stop me from talking about
what I find in the news, and I don’t see you chasing after new guys
either. 

—I have a lot to do.

Daisy

How did I go from teaching little fourth graders to filling up an application as a waitress? Not just any waitress, but a waitress at a club owned by them. No one knew where they came from or how they even reached our town, but they were quick to take over the entire town.

Their name and faces and names were everywhere, bikers, motorcycles, too many tattoos, and weapons. They rampaged through the town, revving their engines, swearing, drinking too loudly, and taking over the small, populated town.

The sheriffs, mayors, and half the too-small population were in love with them or under their thumb. I don't know. You couldn't know. You couldn't know if they had something on them or if they killed anyone who tried to protest.

Willington was a small town, we weren't even on the map, and barely a place tourists stopped by, but we did well for ourselves.

We had a good thing going for us before they came and of course, the first thing they did was tear down the school. I remember crying, and sobbing, as the machinery came and broke it down. I've been a teacher there for years and I loved teaching, being there for my students, and helping the children.

It was what I had. It was all I knew. My hands were shaking from anger and fear as I finished my application. The restaurant slash bar was beautiful and clean, but I was too angry to give them compliments or appreciate the architecture.

They didn't deserve the praise or compliments for what they did, for tearing down that school, for ridding everyone of their jobs, and for doing so without blinking an eye. They were horrible people.

I could see other women applying, beautiful women that I'd see in shops around town, and it was sad to see that they had gone from elegant clothing to ripped jeans or revealing clothing. I'd never sell myself short, and if they didn't hire me here, I'd go right back out there and look. The thing is...they owned the town.

They owned every building, every scrap of land, and every store, restaurant, bar, café, and much, much more. I needed this job. My father was sick, and I was the only person taking care of him.

He needed me and the money I made as a teacher barely paid the bills, but it was enough to buy his medicine. The two wooden benches of women began to slowly lessen as the office door opened and shut.

I noticed each woman walking out crying or with a look of murder on her face as they stomped out. The man who owned this specific restaurant was Alek Koslov.

Alek Koslov was as brutal if not more than any other of the Koslov family members. He was ruthless, degrading, and humiliating, and though I've only had a few encounters with him, I believed he was the Devil. Alek didn't care if you were dying in front of him.

He'd walk over your dead body and complain about the trouble he had with lifting his foot over your body. Some of the townspeople thought they were some mafia, gang, mob type of group, and even though you could speculate a hundred million types of reasons, you really never knew anything.

The Koslovs were quiet, low-key, and secretive. The door swung open, and my name was called just as a younger female ran out crying. I swallowed, smoothed my hand down my skirt, and walked inside.

The man sitting on the other side could have been Lucifer with how evil he looked. He was wrapped in an all-black suit, expensive, maybe even Italian, with how detailed and perfect it seemed. No tie or bowtie.

He left the two buttons on the top undone and I could see some ink there, but it was too far for me to fully make anything out. A heavy stubble took place over his face, and a thick mustache over his lips.

I saw him take his glasses off as he ran a hand through his curly dark brown locks, and then he let out a sigh as he pointed to the chair without meeting my eyes.

He was too busy rummaging through the drawers and pulled out a lighter and shoved a cigarette between his lips and lit it arrogantly. The clicking sound of the lighter irritated me as he continued to play with it even after he lit it.

His office was dark, too dark, barely any light coming in from the opened windows, and the furniture was expensive and black wood and the flooring almost marble, but I couldn't tell. I wasn't in this type of world, the world of rich and arrogance.

I sat down on the chair and saw him lean back, put his glasses back on, and hectic tidal waves for eyes pinned on me and I saw the corners of his lips tug into a devilish smile.

"You're that little teacher." His deep voice stated, and I straightened my spine.

"Daisy Cooper," I said.

"Yeah, the little shits called you Ms. Cooper." He chuckled, exhaling the smoke.

I bit my tongue at how he spoke about the children. He extended his hand and I handed him my resume.

"What's an innocent teacher like you know about waitressing?"

I gripped the hem of my blouse and offered him a polite smile. "It doesn't seem like rocket science. I take their order, smile politely, and give them their food."

His eyes shined and as if feeling challenged, he leaned forward and ticked the end of the cigarette onto the glass ashtray.

"If it wasn't that hard, sweetheart, then why do you think the women that applied before you ran out earlier crying like little bitches?"

He inMorgand once more. "It's 'cause they're weak. They've never known hardships or struggles, and they wouldn't survive a fucking second in my restaurant. What makes you so different Ms. Cooper?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly. "I need this job, especially since you're the reason I lost my teaching job. You owe me."

"I don't owe anyone shit. Jack fucking shit." He spat, anger coiling around his rugged features. "And anyone that lives with a mindset like this doesn't live long in this world."

"I need this job. I'm not leaving this office until you give it to me."

"Is that right?" He seemed amused, his earlier anger vanishing in a blink of an eye as he crushed the cigarette, and stood up.

I didn't move as he walked to the door but stiffened when I heard the door click. I could hear his footsteps receding and then felt his presence behind me.

"If you're not leaving, then we might as well have some fun." He taunted, his hands not touching me, but I could feel them on the side of the chair.

"Excuse me?" I stood up and reared my head back. "Just what kind of girl do you think I am?" I exclaimed.

He was grinning like the evil man he was, and I saw him swipe his thumb across his bottom lip.

"The kind of girl that would probably get on her knees if I asked her to."

My jaw dropped at his crudity, and I stammered, my face heating up at his suggestion. I was not that kind of girl, nor would I ever be, but the pure humor shined in his eyes as if he knew this would have me running out of the room, was the one thing that had me rooted in place.

"Is that what it takes for you to hire me?" I asked, dropping my purse and reaching to tie my hair up.

If he was shocked by my answer he didn't show it. He just stood there, something swirling in those cerulean eyes as he ran his eyes up and down my body. If he was attracted or saw me as beautiful, he didn't show it either. It's not like I cared if he saw me as such. I knew my worth.

"If it was?" He asked.

"I'd do it." I challenged right back.

He stared at me for the longest time, and it was tense, and I couldn't for the life of me understand what was going through his mind or what emotions were clouding those eyes and washing over his face.

He was impossible to read, to understand, and the longer he stared the more anxious and nervous I got about what he'd say to me. I took this time to appreciate how tall and utterly handsome he was, because yes I hated him, but I wasn't blind.

He was perfectly tall, exceptionally buff, and broad, and the suit he wore was molded to perfection on his body. I saw him reach in his pockets and pull out another cigarette then go back to his desk to light it.

"We don't have a uniform." He finally said as he exMorgand the smoke. He ran his hand over my modest clothing. "This isn't no classy joint, but I'll still need you to actually put the effort into your clothing, hair, and makeup.

You're to wear heels as well, not those fucking abominations on your feet. It's a restaurant not a fucking church. Men are here to see, to touch, and you're here to entertain.

Half the job is flirting, seducing, letting sex hang over their heads, but never actually giving it to them."

I scoffed. "I'm not going to sleep with them."

"I didn't tell you to whore yourself out, Daisy. I told you to fucking dangle it. A woman's body is her armor, her weapon, and if she's fucking smart then she can use it to handle this job. If not, walk out right now, and don't let me see your face ever again."

"When do I start?"

"Tomorrow. Be here at six o clock exactly. A minute late and you're fired. You come through the back entrance, and once you're inside you ask for Melissa. She'll be training you."

He stood up, the cigarette between his fingers as he came up to where I was standing. I didn't back down, instead facing him (well looking up at him) head-on.

"We don't do second chances here. You mess up once, screw up a customer's order, talk back, cause a problem, then you're out on your ass.

And I'll be sure to be the one to personally haul you over my shoulder and throw you outside. Do you think you're smart by being here? Or that you're strong-willed by thinking you could handle this job? You're not. You're an idiot."

"If I'm such an idiot, then why'd you hire me?"

"Because I'm intrigued, sweetheart. Intrigued by the naïve schoolteacher who thinks she's brave for coming into the lion's den. Little does she know that she's like a helpless deer who's going to get mauled and eaten by the lions." His tongue ran across his bottom teeth and then he smiled devilishly at me.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Koslov," I said. "I'm not the deer in this scenario."

;;;;

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CHAPTER 3  LOOK INSIDE

Daisy

"I made you some fresh chicken noodle soup. Here are some of your favorite books to read. I got you a few crossword puzzles that you used to enjoy doing in the yard." I rambled on as I cleaned his hospital room.

I took out the old flowers I bought him and replaced them. I made sure he had clean towels, extra pajamas, a new toothbrush, and some bar soap since he hated the liquid one.

"Janice tells me you've been feeling very tired lately, so I spoke to her and made sure it was okay, but I got you some vitamins." I placed them on the bedside table.

The man laying down on the bed was looking too old, too weak, and frail, and I bit back a million emotions as I sat down next to him and reached for his hand.

So weak. My heart panged and ached in my chest as I brought his hand to my mouth. I kissed him there and looked up at him. He didn't look like my father and my guilt ate at me at that thought.

"Daisy, I'm fine."

I nodded my head, ignoring how fatigued he looked and sounded. My father used to have shoulder-length hair and now it was gone, a bald head in his place, a smaller face, and there was always a tremor in his voice and hands, and it hurt.

It fucking killed me seeing him like this knowing I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was pray he gets better, hold his hand, and be there for him. The job I was working made me enough to pay for his hospital bills, but I was lacking from the house bills.

I wasn't that good at waitressing that men wanted to tip me a thousand dollars, but I wished I was. The house I was living in belonged to my great grandfather and he passed it down to my father, and it was this close to getting taken away from me, but I could only do so much, work so much.

I was working every single day without a break, twelve, sometimes thirteen-hour shifts, and whatever I made went straight to my father's hospital bills.

He needed this treatment, needed to get better, and I'd work forever without a break if he got better.

"I know, dad," I murmured. "You look better today." I willed myself not to cry as I smiled at him.

I saw his eyes flutter and his already weak hand go limp in mine. "I'm going to get some..." He mumbled trailing off and then his soft snores filled the room.

I stood up, covered him up with the blanket, ran my fingers over his head, and kissed his cheek, before grabbing my bag and heading out. Once the door shut, I leaned against the wall and felt the tears betray me as they fell down my face.

"Fuck," I swore under my breath as I wiped them away, but they wouldn't stop. "Stop crying." I scolded myself. "He's fine,"

I let out a ragged breath of air and wiped my face with the sleeves of my shirt. He'd be fine. I knew he would. He was strong and a fighter and I was just like him. I stepped out of the hospital feeling heavy, the weight of taking care of everything getting to me as I walked to the bus stop.

Exhaustion and I have become very intimate lately and I fought to stay away so I could get home, get dressed, and head back out. I made some coffee after my shower and put on some Frank Sinatra as I got ready.

My father's records were the only music I listened to, so I swayed and cried as I got dressed to go sell myself for the night. I never thought I'd ever allow myself to be the person I was when I headed to work, but I reminded myself drastic times called for drastic measures.

I wasn't doing this to boost my confidence or to find a man. I was doing this for my father, to help him, to take care of him, just as he took care of me when I was a child. He was the only family I had left, and I needed to do whatever I could for him.

––––––––

Fishnet stockings, a pound of makeup, and a thin dress that could be considered lingerie later, I put on a coat to cover myself as I got on the bus. I was feeling rather emotional today and I prayed I was professional enough not to cause a scene, because I needed this job.

I walked in from the back entrance, went to my locker, and put my purse, phone, keys, and coat inside then checked my reflection in the mirror once more before clocking in. I went from table to table, helping, taking their orders, and laughing with them as they groped me.

I played it cool as always as I reminded them touching me costs extra, because as easy as I felt I wasn't cheap.

Any man that wanted to touch me, fondle my ass, or tell me how sexy I'd look if I bent over for him would pay for it and that was that. Alek Koslov spent most of his time in his office, but lately, he's been in his little VIP section, always watching me.

Always.

It was like he was ready for me to slip up, to fall, to make a mistake, so he could point and laugh and humiliate me as he tossed me out. I had to give it to him, he was fucking persistent if not determined to see me fail.

I on the other hand have been through fucking hell and hardships and I've seen worse. Worse than Alek Koslov and worse than him tearing down the school, and worse than him threatening me.

I've gone through hell my entire life, never known relief or ease, and I could handle his little lion's den. I'd show him just who the deer was because it wouldn't be me.

My eyes would find his every now and then and I'd be quick as I admired how handsome he looked in that trench coat, how mysterious he seemed as he exhaled the smoke, or how tired he seemed, or how smart he looked with those glasses on.

I'd see him get frustrated throughout the night, taking his glasses off and rubbing his face aggressively, or see him down too many cups of Whiskey, or when he'd scream on the phone his voice as icy as those glaciers he had for eyes that always seemed to find me.

I knew the Koslovs were rich, and I knew they stumbled on this town to reconstruct it in a way they could make money off of it, but what I didn't know is why Alek Koslov hated everything. His face was in a perpetual scowl, and you really never knew what was up his ass.

"Daisy," Someone called my name. "Hey,"

The man I saw a few days ago was here who I knew now was Alek's younger brother.

"Ares," I smiled.

"You remembered my name." He grinned. "Should I be flattered?"

"Not really," I answered. "I don't forget a face or a name. It's the teacher in me."

"I'll still take it. Listen, I'm heading up there to sit with Grumpy Koslov, do you mind getting me something to eat? I'm starving and don't have the patience to wait for the menu." He pointed to Alek that was now watching us very carefully.

"Sure, of course, what would you like?"

"Steak, please. Medium rare, mashed potatoes, with asparagus on the side. I don't remember what the meal is actually called, but those are the sides. Also, a beer, please and thank you."

"Of course, I got you."

He left to join Alek and then I was heading to the kitchen to tell them what he ordered. I fixed my makeup in the bathroom and my hair before stepping out to grab his order. I grabbed a beer on my way there and walked up the stairs.

The security guard that was always guarding the VIP section was a sweetheart. His name was Darryl and he always smiled when he saw me.

"How's the wife and kids?" I asked him.

"They're doing well. I told my wife about that gentle parenting tip, and it's worked wonders for the twins."

"I'm glad. Remember, never speak down to them, always get on their level and listen before you get on the attack. They're just kids and it's hard for them to communicate their needs with words."

He let me in with a nod of his head and I set the steak down in front of Ares along with his beer.

"Anything else?"

"No, beautiful. I'm good. Alek, you want anything?"

"Whiskey."

"Of course, Mr. Koslov."

"Tell the chef the steak is hittin' different," Ares said, and I saw Alek give him an annoyed look at his use of slang.

"Will do."

I passed by Darryl and went back to the bar to get him another cup of Whiskey. He almost sighed, knowing he was drinking too much but didn't say anything as he handed me the cup.

I walked back up and set it down in front of him. I walked away after I made sure they didn't need anything and after the fourth hour into my shift, I got so dizzy I had to sit down.

I wanted to wash my face, but I couldn't wash my makeup off, so I settled on some ibuprofen for the migraine forming. After the two-minute break, I gave myself, I went back out there, passing by the other flirty and well-dressed waitresses as I helped out my regulars.

It was taxing and my exhaustion and lack of sleep were catching up to me as I got so dizzy that the tray of drinks fell out of my hands with a loud crash. Shaking and still a little dizzy, I bent down and began picking them up and placing them on the tray. I could feel eyes on me, but I acted like it was fine.

I placed the bigger pieces of broken glass on the tray and then reached for the smaller pieces. One nicked me and I winced in pain as I saw the blood dripping out of my palm. I felt a hand on my elbow, and I looked up to see Alek yanking me off the floor.

He didn't speak as he dragged me away from everyone and the restaurant and to his office. He slammed the door after we stepped in and kept on pulling me until we reached his desk. He sat me down on the chair and I saw him pull out a first aid kit.

"You're a fucking idiot, you know that?" He scolded as he proceeded to clean my cut with alcohol before grabbing tweezers and pulling out the tiny piece of glass stuck in my palm. "Who picks up broken glass pieces with their fucking hands?"

He kept on muttering as he cleaned my cut. I saw him gently wrap it with a white cloth and then tie it. He was oddly soft with how he was dealing with my cut despite the anger radiating off of him in waves that made me squirm and feel uncomfortable.

"You're an idiot." He said again, his eyes on me and I felt his thumb caress the palm of my hand. His eyes dropped to my lips and my heart hammered in my chest. "Such an idiot." He groaned before crashing his lips onto mine.

His hand cupped the back of my head as he towered over me. I was surprised by how I kissed him back, my uninjured hand clutching the back of his jacket as I parted my lips for him.

We moaned into the dirty, wet kiss and I didn't have a single thought in my head on why we shouldn't be kissing, and why I hated this man. All I could think about was how much of a good kisser he was.

His lips were rough against my soft ones, demanding, taking what he wanted, and I let him without a doubt. This man kissed like a fucking dream. He was rough and I found myself submitting as I opened up, allowing him access.

His tongue slipped inside my mouth with ease, and I felt him stroke and caress mine and I moaned at the ferocity. His other hand came up and he cradled my jaw as he slanted his head over mine, deepening the kiss.

"Alek! Is she okay?"

The sound of someone entering the office had us pulling apart. "Shit, I didn't know, bro. Sorry."

We were both panting, gasping, flushed, and I could feel and see how hard he was, and I hated how wet I was from this kiss. He stood back up and I saw him fix his suit before ushering Ares to walk in.

Alessio

Stubborn, feisty and with an attitude that she harbored in her soul.

That was the three words I could describe her out the top of my mind as I walked down to the kitchen area, finally deciding to come out of my office after locking myself away to finish up my tasks for a few days. Ava was sitting at the end of the table, in a plain white gown that still looked too big for her tiny frame. Unlike the past few days, she had finally stopped wearing a cardigan around the estate as we raised the heat, given how cold it was getting. Her hair was parted to one side as she listened to what everyone was chattering around, giving a small nod and brief sentences here and there. Almost as if she senses me, she briefly looked at the doorway to where before she went back to poking at her overnight oats with fruits. Anastasia was chattering per usual up to fill the silence with an occasional grunt or mumble from my men until I finally stepped into the kitchen.

"Alessio, good morning," Anastasia said through a spoonful of cereal. "Care to join us finally?"

"Did you sleep in your office yesterday?" Nicolai asked in a gruff, his gun in plain sight as a way to assert his dominance with high alert. I didn't blame him, since it wasn't everyday you have a new addition to the family. Our men slept and lived in other properties miles away from here and only my most trusted gets to live here. It just so happened that rule changed when I brought home a little bird.

"Perhaps," I answered, taking a seat across from Ava on purpose. She stopped picking at her oatmeal with fruits for a moment for me to recognized she barely touched it before she goes onto mixing it. Everyone had been to wrap up with discussing our next plan of action to notice it, or they didn't care enough.

"We got anything to do today. Shipments? Meeting? Killing?" Aleksei asked, drawing out the last part which made everyone perk up in interest while the maid placed my usual breakfast consisting of two eggs, bacons, and a side of buttered toast. Taking a knife and fork, I slowly took a small bite and thought.

"Nothing out the ordinary," I simply shrugged after swallowing. For the most part, I was waiting for my next move, careful not to jump too fast before it was my turn. With just Rose needed to return when she's done, everything was set in place. All we needed now was patience, something they weren't good at. "Most of the things are dealt with already. Though I have to meet with the families next week to introduce my new wife."

"Oh yeah, I had forgotten about that," Silas snapped his finger, slamming his cup of coffee onto the table and making Ava jump from the sudden sound. I watched Aleksei narrow his eyes at Silas for scaring her. No one seemed to have notice as they became caught up with getting ready for the day, but I did. For the most part, everyone's guard was always done for the most part on the estate, except for me.

I learned young what could happen if you ever have your guard down.

Aleksei gave Ava a reassuring smile a few seats away which earned him just the slightest smile in return. I didn't like it but decided to give a moment of thought since he usually took his job seriously, which meant making sure Ava wasn't going to do anything idiotic and stupid.

"Every family is going to be there?" Silas asked, puzzled as he glanced at Ava for a moment. She stops picking at her breakfast, probably trying to process the fact that everyone is going to be staring at her with distasteful and revulsive matter. Some might even find her shocking to see that the Italians princess wasn't just a myth.

"Last I talked to them, yes," I replied simply, taking another bite, and resisting the urge to steal another glance at Ava. I wanted to tie her down and force feed her at this point because it seemed like she barely took three bites total out of her breakfast. The irritation settling into my bones because the last thing I needed was her fainting. I didn't know what her diet was like when she was at Antonio's estate, but everyone here ate three meals.

"Your father is going to flip then," Nicolai said with a snort as he got up to throw his remainder of food into the trash bin. Everyone follow suit with placing their plates and empty cup into the sink while I bask in the fact that I would be enjoying my breakfast in silence soon enough. It was the way it was for years and I enjoyed it.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Aleksei commented with a chuckle as he gets up, waiting for Ava to follow as she peered at him and then her unfinished food like she didn't know what to do. Gripping the knife in my hands to hold in my sneer, I stared at Ava, practically burning a hole on her at this point. And I knew she felt it by the way she bit her lips.

"I've given everyone a short rundown yesterday to expect my new wife, so they won't go ballistic," I drawled out. "Though I can't stop just how it'll go down when they actually see her."

"How did everyone take the news that she's an Italian?" Silas asked, amused as he hands me the tablet that was left onto the counter. Per usual, there was work to be done "You got a few emails you should reply to as well."

"Do you think I care about their opinions?" I question, arching up a brow.

"Does she got anything to wear?" Anastasia said with a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Like a dress? I want to go shopping with her if she doesn't have anything to wear."

"She's not allowed out," I remarked slowly, our eyes clashing as she finally lifted her head from her breakfast to stare at me. With a gleam of deviltry, I smirked at her. "Unless she would like to take up my offer of what we talked about a few days ago?"

"No."

Amusement flashed through everyone's eyes along with a hint of confusion and shock that I wasn't forcing her to do something. It wasn't my thing, yet the thought of her slowly starting to crumple and giving it would make it all worth it. At that, I shrugged. "Then she can order one online with you supervising her."

"That's no fun."

"That's not my problem," I curtly replied, cutting through my eggs. "Not to mention, everything is uncertain right now with how the Italians would reply that Antonio had just gave away her daughter for an alliance. I think it'll be best you stay home until everything settles."

"Fine, then I guess I'll purposely buy the most expensive dress with overnight shipping." Anastasia grumble in annoyance but doesn't say anything as everyone started to trickle out of the dining room to get the day started, leaving just the both of us. It had been like that the last few days, seeing how slow she ate compared to everyone else. Even Aleksei would spar with Silas or Nicolai before coming to fetch her to see what to do for the rest of the day.

Then again, she didn't have much to do since Anastasia and the maids took care of everything.

A few moments of silent passes when I got annoyed that she wasn't eating. I had done nothing but give her a probably better life than the one she had before and every day, she barely ate enough. No one seemed to notice, or maybe I only did because I didn't want her to make an embarrassment out of me. Slamming my knife onto the table, Ava jumped in surprise, almost dropping her spoon in the process.

"Bird, give me a cup of coffee."

Apparently, it became a new hobby I've grown a few days before to irritate her with her newfound nickname as I find minuscule errands for her to run. It started with trying to annoy her, which has now transformed into trying to user her nickname however I can, especially when she was making me angry. I usually distinguished when I gave her a chance to say no versus when I was in no mood with my wording.

Ava wordlessly gets up from her seat, setting her spoon neatly on top of her bowl of barely touched oatmeal. She makes her way to the counter and pops a pod into the expresso machine that I remembered she saw everyone using a few times. She grabs the nearest black mug on the counter and once she was done, she comes back, her lips puckered out like a child.

When she finally sets the cup of coffee in front of me, I realized her hands and arms were no longer bandaged anymore. While her skin was still a bit red, overall, her skin was porcelain like her father had claimed. Though when she extends her hands to place the cup down, her long sleeves rises and I realized her father was lying about something, something he had to have known that not every inch of her was white, untouched, and porcelain.

Ridged hate looking scars that I knew all too well wouldn't heal were on both of her wrist, giving it the look like she had been struggling hard against whatever they had chained her up with to give her those marking. Just like where they had branded her delicate skin, it was a constant reminder to her who she belonged too, no matter how far she runs.

Permanent scarring, like the branding on her rib cage.

A snarl came out of me before I could stop it and Ava froze in her place. I grabbed at her wrist, hard enough to apply some force of pressure, but not enough to actually hurt her. She yelped a bit in surprise yet doesn't pull away from me as I examined her wrists carefully. It wasn't even made from her struggling, but more like she was dragged after tied up, maybe even burnt there. The more I looked at it, the more it made my stomach turned in pure anger about not just the lie told by Antonio, but the amount of torment she probably had gone. I didn't care, yet others would be quick to think I was the one hurting her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered quietly, not daring to pull away from my grip. My eyes snapped to hers. Her blue eyes guarded, and though usually people's eyes were filled with terror and dread being close enough where they could see each one of my scars, Ava wasn't. In fact, she seemed more scared of me asking questions about her past, which doesn't deter from me doing so.

"Where did you get this?" I murmured low and dark.

Shame filled her face as she "I...I can't remember,"

"Can't? Or won't?"

She goes quiet at the two options I gave her and then swallow. "I think Robert inflicted them onto me, but I don't remember much. I was out of it a lot."

"Explain," I demanded, my voice clipped what she meant when she said she was out of it during those times, wanting to know, almost needing to know more than breathing. Her gaze drops from my eyes to her wrist and a low rumble came out of me, not liking her eyes off of me. As if she understands, her eyes finally snapping back onto me. "Good girl, now tell me."

"He was trying a new kind of drug," she murmured uncomfortably, whispering while her whole body stiffened under the memories. "With a friend of his. But I don't know for sure, like I had mentioned, I was out of it during those few days. I struggled, but the memories are blotched."

"These are permanent like the one on your ribcage," I stated out loud. "They would never heal."

She flinches at the harsh truth and I knew I was a bastard for bringing it up, but she needed to hear it now. She needed to verify it out loud and she nodded at my statement softly.

"It appears so," she agrees, allowing me to turn and examine the inner parts of her wrists was when I noticed there was a rather long line darker right where her jugular vein was. Almost as if she read my mind, she pulled away from me and I allowed her to do it without a fight. Backing away two steps, she stares at me still and cleared her throat. "Is that all you need besides your coffee?"

I gestured to her bowl with a nod. "I need you to also finish your breakfast before you leave the table."

"I'm working on it," she replied with a short huff. She made her way back to her chair and then continued to pick at it.

"You barely even touched it," I stated through grit teeth. When she stared at me, almost curious of why I cared, I continued. "Last thing I would want is for you to faint or die on me."

"I'm not that easy to kill, it appears." She gave me a small smile.

"You better finish before I'm done, because unlike the first few times, I won't leave until you're done. Would you like that I'll be behind because of you?" I questioned; my lips pressed thinly. "Would you like for me to sit with you because my wife isn't competent of eating?"

"I'm not hungry though," she explained again, her lips pursed in a pout like gesture.

"You need to eat," I said in a hard, clipped tone, leaving no room for debate. "End of discussion or we'll be here all day."

"I'll like to see that," she mumbled more to herself, but if there was something I was good at, it was hearing my enemies' whispers no matter the distance. I ended up letting her slide with that comment when she eventually takes a sizable bite off her spoon and then dabs her lips with the towel, getting up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I questioned, watching her grab a lid from the counter and walking back to where her seat was.

"I'm saving it for later," she replied simply.

"You didn't even finish," I stated with a scowl.

"You said eat, not finish," she retaliated. Although she was getting on my nerve, for some reason, it didn't anger me the way people usually would. Rather, it was more amusing when she thinks she could do as she wished. She had become more customed to the house, my people, and her lackluster personality I thought she had slowly fade to reveal what she really was. "Last I checked, I had taken a bite, haven't I?"

"You're a fucking brat," I bit out before narrowing my eyes. "Sit down and finish the rest. You barely even scrape the damn surface."

"Are you commanding me to?" she asked, referring to the second rule I had placed, cocking one eyebrow upwards. Though she takes a seat, she doesn't reopen the lid and stared at me, biting her lips.

"No, because you're going to listen without me commanding me," I said, finishing the remainder of my coffee, getting up to place my dish and cup into the dish. "You doing as a say would be last resort, though I don't think I would have to use it."

Her eyes flashed with defiance, forehead puckered together and titled her head to the side. "Why would you think that?"

It was good she had started to talk and ask question, mainly thanks to Anastasia for the most part wearing her down with her nonsensical talking. The thing I hated the most was dull people that bore me. It was another reason why I decided it'll be fun to take her as my wife, to get her to submit willingly. "I'm going to let you know now, bird, I always get what I want."

"What if that doesn't always work out?" she questioned narrowing her eyes.

"Then I'll kill whoever it is stopping me and get it," I stated with a twisted smile, standing at the back of her chair. "Worked like a charm without fail."

"Hm, bet it does, doesn't it," she murmured, pulling up a chair next to her. She eyed me as I propped my head up by my elbows, drumming her

"I have to go to the annex house in the back of the estate," I began slowly, her eyes trained on mine again to see where I was going. It wasn't technically a lie, because I had to go sooner or later to do a thorough count of our ammos and weapons we kept, making sure nothing had been taken. Something I taken in my own hands once a month to check what we needed to order and what needs to be replenished in the emergency room in the property's estate in case of an attack. "And I need another pair of hands."

She stilled for a moment, staring now in befuddlement. "Are...are you saying I could go outside?"

"Are you going to tell me you don't like the nickname bird?" I shot back.

"No."

"Then you won't be going out, you'll be accompanying me to carry things from there back into the estate so finish your breakfast before I tell someone else to do it. Manual work as my personal maid," I illiterate, tapping my index finger on the closed lid. "So, finish your breakfast and you'll tag along. Do you want to be an inconvenience to everyone who's busy right now?"

Without another word, she finally opening back the lid and then looked at me. "Can you come back in ten minutes, if you would like me to eat."

At her request, I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I...I can't eat when I think someone's watching me, I have to eat alone," she murmured, her gaze dropping onto the oatmeal. "I always ate alone, and if Robert had taken me out for formal events to show me off, I would starve till I get back home. I can't eat with people around, watching me."

I sighed at the newfound confession, but it finally hits me why she had been stubborn with eating at all whenever we sat down for breakfast and dinner, always finding an excuse to not eat together. Probably stemming from some sort of trauma given her history. "Would you eat if no one is watching you and they're in the same room?"

"I...I think so," she mumbled lowly. "I don't know, but when my Father had stationed guards near my room, I was able to do it, since they always had their backs facing me."

Grabbing today's newspaper that was left on the table, I opened it to a page where it places a barrier between us. "There, now I can't see you, so eat because we don't have all day."

I didn't see her reaction, but I can feel her teasing nature from the paper. "Would you like to turn the paper right side up first?"

Fucking brat.Alessio

Stubborn, feisty and with an attitude that she harbored in her soul.

That was the three words I could describe her out the top of my mind as I walked down to the kitchen area, finally deciding to come out of my office after locking myself away to finish up my tasks for a few days. Ava was sitting at the end of the table, in a plain white gown that still looked too big for her tiny frame. Unlike the past few days, she had finally stopped wearing a cardigan around the estate as we raised the heat, given how cold it was getting. Her hair was parted to one side as she listened to what everyone was chattering around, giving a small nod and brief sentences here and there. Almost as if she senses me, she briefly looked at the doorway to where before she went back to poking at her overnight oats with fruits. Anastasia was chattering per usual up to fill the silence with an occasional grunt or mumble from my men until I finally stepped into the kitchen.

"Alessio, good morning," Anastasia said through a spoonful of cereal. "Care to join us finally?"

"Did you sleep in your office yesterday?" Nicolai asked in a gruff, his gun in plain sight as a way to assert his dominance with high alert. I didn't blame him, since it wasn't everyday you have a new addition to the family. Our men slept and lived in other properties miles away from here and only my most trusted gets to live here. It just so happened that rule changed when I brought home a little bird.

"Perhaps," I answered, taking a seat across from Ava on purpose. She stopped picking at her oatmeal with fruits for a moment for me to recognized she barely touched it before she goes onto mixing it. Everyone had been to wrap up with discussing our next plan of action to notice it, or they didn't care enough.

"We got anything to do today. Shipments? Meeting? Killing?" Aleksei asked, drawing out the last part which made everyone perk up in interest while the maid placed my usual breakfast consisting of two eggs, bacons, and a side of buttered toast. Taking a knife and fork, I slowly took a small bite and thought.

"Nothing out the ordinary," I simply shrugged after swallowing. For the most part, I was waiting for my next move, careful not to jump too fast before it was my turn. With just Rose needed to return when she's done, everything was set in place. All we needed now was patience, something they weren't good at. "Most of the things are dealt with already. Though I have to meet with the families next week to introduce my new wife."

"Oh yeah, I had forgotten about that," Silas snapped his finger, slamming his cup of coffee onto the table and making Ava jump from the sudden sound. I watched Aleksei narrow his eyes at Silas for scaring her. No one seemed to have notice as they became caught up with getting ready for the day, but I did. For the most part, everyone's guard was always done for the most part on the estate, except for me.

I learned young what could happen if you ever have your guard down.

Aleksei gave Ava a reassuring smile a few seats away which earned him just the slightest smile in return. I didn't like it but decided to give a moment of thought since he usually took his job seriously, which meant making sure Ava wasn't going to do anything idiotic and stupid.

"Every family is going to be there?" Silas asked, puzzled as he glanced at Ava for a moment. She stops picking at her breakfast, probably trying to process the fact that everyone is going to be staring at her with distasteful and revulsive matter. Some might even find her shocking to see that the Italians princess wasn't just a myth.

"Last I talked to them, yes," I replied simply, taking another bite, and resisting the urge to steal another glance at Ava. I wanted to tie her down and force feed her at this point because it seemed like she barely took three bites total out of her breakfast. The irritation settling into my bones because the last thing I needed was her fainting. I didn't know what her diet was like when she was at Antonio's estate, but everyone here ate three meals.

"Your father is going to flip then," Nicolai said with a snort as he got up to throw his remainder of food into the trash bin. Everyone follow suit with placing their plates and empty cup into the sink while I bask in the fact that I would be enjoying my breakfast in silence soon enough. It was the way it was for years and I enjoyed it.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Aleksei commented with a chuckle as he gets up, waiting for Ava to follow as she peered at him and then her unfinished food like she didn't know what to do. Gripping the knife in my hands to hold in my sneer, I stared at Ava, practically burning a hole on her at this point. And I knew she felt it by the way she bit her lips.

"I've given everyone a short rundown yesterday to expect my new wife, so they won't go ballistic," I drawled out. "Though I can't stop just how it'll go down when they actually see her."

"How did everyone take the news that she's an Italian?" Silas asked, amused as he hands me the tablet that was left onto the counter. Per usual, there was work to be done "You got a few emails you should reply to as well."

"Do you think I care about their opinions?" I question, arching up a brow.

"Does she got anything to wear?" Anastasia said with a glint of excitement in her eyes. "Like a dress? I want to go shopping with her if she doesn't have anything to wear."

"She's not allowed out," I remarked slowly, our eyes clashing as she finally lifted her head from her breakfast to stare at me. With a gleam of deviltry, I smirked at her. "Unless she would like to take up my offer of what we talked about a few days ago?"

"No."

Amusement flashed through everyone's eyes along with a hint of confusion and shock that I wasn't forcing her to do something. It wasn't my thing, yet the thought of her slowly starting to crumple and giving it would make it all worth it. At that, I shrugged. "Then she can order one online with you supervising her."

"That's no fun."

"That's not my problem," I curtly replied, cutting through my eggs. "Not to mention, everything is uncertain right now with how the Italians would reply that Antonio had just gave away her daughter for an alliance. I think it'll be best you stay home until everything settles."

"Fine, then I guess I'll purposely buy the most expensive dress with overnight shipping." Anastasia grumble in annoyance but doesn't say anything as everyone started to trickle out of the dining room to get the day started, leaving just the both of us. It had been like that the last few days, seeing how slow she ate compared to everyone else. Even Aleksei would spar with Silas or Nicolai before coming to fetch her to see what to do for the rest of the day.

Then again, she didn't have much to do since Anastasia and the maids took care of everything.

A few moments of silent passes when I got annoyed that she wasn't eating. I had done nothing but give her a probably better life than the one she had before and every day, she barely ate enough. No one seemed to notice, or maybe I only did because I didn't want her to make an embarrassment out of me. Slamming my knife onto the table, Ava jumped in surprise, almost dropping her spoon in the process.

"Bird, give me a cup of coffee."

Apparently, it became a new hobby I've grown a few days before to irritate her with her newfound nickname as I find minuscule errands for her to run. It started with trying to annoy her, which has now transformed into trying to user her nickname however I can, especially when she was making me angry. I usually distinguished when I gave her a chance to say no versus when I was in no mood with my wording.

Ava wordlessly gets up from her seat, setting her spoon neatly on top of her bowl of barely touched oatmeal. She makes her way to the counter and pops a pod into the expresso machine that I remembered she saw everyone using a few times. She grabs the nearest black mug on the counter and once she was done, she comes back, her lips puckered out like a child.

When she finally sets the cup of coffee in front of me, I realized her hands and arms were no longer bandaged anymore. While her skin was still a bit red, overall, her skin was porcelain like her father had claimed. Though when she extends her hands to place the cup down, her long sleeves rises and I realized her father was lying about something, something he had to have known that not every inch of her was white, untouched, and porcelain.

Ridged hate looking scars that I knew all too well wouldn't heal were on both of her wrist, giving it the look like she had been struggling hard against whatever they had chained her up with to give her those marking. Just like where they had branded her delicate skin, it was a constant reminder to her who she belonged too, no matter how far she runs.

Permanent scarring, like the branding on her rib cage.

A snarl came out of me before I could stop it and Ava froze in her place. I grabbed at her wrist, hard enough to apply some force of pressure, but not enough to actually hurt her. She yelped a bit in surprise yet doesn't pull away from me as I examined her wrists carefully. It wasn't even made from her struggling, but more like she was dragged after tied up, maybe even burnt there. The more I looked at it, the more it made my stomach turned in pure anger about not just the lie told by Antonio, but the amount of torment she probably had gone. I didn't care, yet others would be quick to think I was the one hurting her.

"What are you doing?" she whispered quietly, not daring to pull away from my grip. My eyes snapped to hers. Her blue eyes guarded, and though usually people's eyes were filled with terror and dread being close enough where they could see each one of my scars, Ava wasn't. In fact, she seemed more scared of me asking questions about her past, which doesn't deter from me doing so.

"Where did you get this?" I murmured low and dark.

Shame filled her face as she "I...I can't remember,"

"Can't? Or won't?"

She goes quiet at the two options I gave her and then swallow. "I think Robert inflicted them onto me, but I don't remember much. I was out of it a lot."

"Explain," I demanded, my voice clipped what she meant when she said she was out of it during those times, wanting to know, almost needing to know more than breathing. Her gaze drops from my eyes to her wrist and a low rumble came out of me, not liking her eyes off of me. As if she understands, her eyes finally snapping back onto me. "Good girl, now tell me."

"He was trying a new kind of drug," she murmured uncomfortably, whispering while her whole body stiffened under the memories. "With a friend of his. But I don't know for sure, like I had mentioned, I was out of it during those few days. I struggled, but the memories are blotched."

"These are permanent like the one on your ribcage," I stated out loud. "They would never heal."

She flinches at the harsh truth and I knew I was a bastard for bringing it up, but she needed to hear it now. She needed to verify it out loud and she nodded at my statement softly.

"It appears so," she agrees, allowing me to turn and examine the inner parts of her wrists was when I noticed there was a rather long line darker right where her jugular vein was. Almost as if she read my mind, she pulled away from me and I allowed her to do it without a fight. Backing away two steps, she stares at me still and cleared her throat. "Is that all you need besides your coffee?"

I gestured to her bowl with a nod. "I need you to also finish your breakfast before you leave the table."

"I'm working on it," she replied with a short huff. She made her way back to her chair and then continued to pick at it.

"You barely even touched it," I stated through grit teeth. When she stared at me, almost curious of why I cared, I continued. "Last thing I would want is for you to faint or die on me."

"I'm not that easy to kill, it appears." She gave me a small smile.

"You better finish before I'm done, because unlike the first few times, I won't leave until you're done. Would you like that I'll be behind because of you?" I questioned; my lips pressed thinly. "Would you like for me to sit with you because my wife isn't competent of eating?"

"I'm not hungry though," she explained again, her lips pursed in a pout like gesture.

"You need to eat," I said in a hard, clipped tone, leaving no room for debate. "End of discussion or we'll be here all day."

"I'll like to see that," she mumbled more to herself, but if there was something I was good at, it was hearing my enemies' whispers no matter the distance. I ended up letting her slide with that comment when she eventually takes a sizable bite off her spoon and then dabs her lips with the towel, getting up.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I questioned, watching her grab a lid from the counter and walking back to where her seat was.

"I'm saving it for later," she replied simply.

"You didn't even finish," I stated with a scowl.

"You said eat, not finish," she retaliated. Although she was getting on my nerve, for some reason, it didn't anger me the way people usually would. Rather, it was more amusing when she thinks she could do as she wished. She had become more customed to the house, my people, and her lackluster personality I thought she had slowly fade to reveal what she really was. "Last I checked, I had taken a bite, haven't I?"

"You're a fucking brat," I bit out before narrowing my eyes. "Sit down and finish the rest. You barely even scrape the damn surface."

"Are you commanding me to?" she asked, referring to the second rule I had placed, cocking one eyebrow upwards. Though she takes a seat, she doesn't reopen the lid and stared at me, biting her lips.

"No, because you're going to listen without me commanding me," I said, finishing the remainder of my coffee, getting up to place my dish and cup into the dish. "You doing as a say would be last resort, though I don't think I would have to use it."

Her eyes flashed with defiance, forehead puckered together and titled her head to the side. "Why would you think that?"

It was good she had started to talk and ask question, mainly thanks to Anastasia for the most part wearing her down with her nonsensical talking. The thing I hated the most was dull people that bore me. It was another reason why I decided it'll be fun to take her as my wife, to get her to submit willingly. "I'm going to let you know now, bird, I always get what I want."

"What if that doesn't always work out?" she questioned narrowing her eyes.

"Then I'll kill whoever it is stopping me and get it," I stated with a twisted smile, standing at the back of her chair. "Worked like a charm without fail."

"Hm, bet it does, doesn't it," she murmured, pulling up a chair next to her. She eyed me as I propped my head up by my elbows, drumming her

"I have to go to the annex house in the back of the estate," I began slowly, her eyes trained on mine again to see where I was going. It wasn't technically a lie, because I had to go sooner or later to do a thorough count of our ammos and weapons we kept, making sure nothing had been taken. Something I taken in my own hands once a month to check what we needed to order and what needs to be replenished in the emergency room in the property's estate in case of an attack. "And I need another pair of hands."

She stilled for a moment, staring now in befuddlement. "Are...are you saying I could go outside?"

"Are you going to tell me you don't like the nickname bird?" I shot back.

"No."

"Then you won't be going out, you'll be accompanying me to carry things from there back into the estate so finish your breakfast before I tell someone else to do it. Manual work as my personal maid," I illiterate, tapping my index finger on the closed lid. "So, finish your breakfast and you'll tag along. Do you want to be an inconvenience to everyone who's busy right now?"

Without another word, she finally opening back the lid and then looked at me. "Can you come back in ten minutes, if you would like me to eat."

At her request, I furrowed my eyebrows. "Why?"

"I...I can't eat when I think someone's watching me, I have to eat alone," she murmured, her gaze dropping onto the oatmeal. "I always ate alone, and if Robert had taken me out for formal events to show me off, I would starve till I get back home. I can't eat with people around, watching me."

I sighed at the newfound confession, but it finally hits me why she had been stubborn with eating at all whenever we sat down for breakfast and dinner, always finding an excuse to not eat together. Probably stemming from some sort of trauma given her history. "Would you eat if no one is watching you and they're in the same room?"

"I...I think so," she mumbled lowly. "I don't know, but when my Father had stationed guards near my room, I was able to do it, since they always had their backs facing me."

Grabbing today's newspaper that was left on the table, I opened it to a page where it places a barrier between us. "There, now I can't see you, so eat because we don't have all day."

I didn't see her reaction, but I can feel her teasing nature from the paper. "Would you like to turn the paper right side up first?"

Fucking brat.

CHAPTER 3

SELENA

"What's your name?" I asked the man who strikes me with less fear than the other. His eyes held a gleam to them, similar to that of a penny. There was a bit of rust around his brown pools, but with the right care, I just knew that the rust would be replaced with a shine.

"Massimo," he answered.

I thought back to the man who was in the room previously. Power and authority radiated off of him, shamelessly. Disobedience was not presented as an option in my case. Even then, it was difficult not to abide by his every command. Threats reeked from his words with little to no assistance. It was almost as if I could feel his hatred gutting me over and over again.

However, there was something enticing about him. It wasn't only the look in his eye, or his godly features. It wasn't even his muscular body that seemed as though he could please a woman and still have enough energy to do it again. It was his touch that was impolitely gentle. It was his belligerency that hurt me so good. Like a fire, he was in and of itself, my danger.

"And that man who was just in here . . . he is Santore Venturi, right?" I questioned. Even though I knew the answer, a small part of me wished he wouldn't say yes. If he answered yes, nothing good would come out of this for me. I saw their faces, I know their names—they were planning to kill me.

Massimo released me from my restraints, but I couldn't look away from him. Based on the number of information I retained about Saint, I knew exactly what Santore Venturi was capable of. He would go to the depths of torture to get information out of someone. He would go even further to those who crossed him. The countless of files proved that he held no mercy. From ripping apart limbs to leaving a person just begging to die, he was someone to be scared of.

No outsider had ever seen his face and lived to tell the tale. So, as I sat there in absolute terror, I knew what my destiny was. It was only a matter of time before fate snatches me from the world by the hands of Saint.

"Saint. He doesn't like being called anything else," Massimo grumbled.

I messed up big time through my messy attempts of lurking. The mafia was a dangerous business that I stupidly placed myself into. I was nothing but a twenty-year-old with no family and no protection from anyone other than myself. My determination held hands with negligence as I foolishly opened the doors and stepped into the beast's den—Saint's den.

Even as I sat back and read about the most dangerous man to ever come across, I never suspected that I would end up in the place where he's killed plenty of people. I thought I was safe and secure, but I was wrong. Too fixated on finding my mother, I didn't realize the mistakes I was making. I thought I was closer than ever, but now I'm farther than I could ever be.

No words fell from my lips. Maybe my exhaustion from fighting those men had suffocated my every word. Maybe it was my logic that had finally given up. Even my thoughts were full of emptiness.

I could feel my eyesight stick onto the small particles of dust floating in the air, and for some reason, it was almost as if it hurt to break my gaze.

"We are leaving, but I expect you not to run or scream. I'm afraid that if you do, I will be forced to put the gag back into your mouth and tie you up again. Am I understood?" He asked me as if he were a father scolding his child.

"If you plan on killing me..." I cleared my throat to break away from its shakiness, "just do it."

"No one is going to kill you," the man stated softly. My brows pulled together as I watched him pull open the door. Venturi wasn't known for leniency, could it be possible that he was sparing my life?

"Why?"

"You are more of value to us alive than dead," he answered. I tried to piece together what he meant. It could be a huge number of things they wanted from me—none were good. The thought already made me wish I were dead. It left my head to drop down and my shoulders to fall with it.

"What is it that you want from me?" I asked.

Massimo didn't bother answering as he gripped my arm and began to walk me down the hall. I kept my head down with my gaze falling on my shoes. The place smelled like blood and secrets. My face held a deep cringe as recognition fell onto my mind. I've seen pictures of this place—pictures of Saint's victims.

Every step I took wasn't even a choice of my own. Massimo was dragging me towards the outdoors, but I wanted to see more. I wanted to unlock all the secrets lurking in the halls. I wanted to know if there were more victims just like those in the photos and just like me now.

Massimo pushed open the exit leaving the sun to breach my eyes as I squinted them from the impact. I didn't even get time to adjust to the sunlight because I was pushed into the backseat of a car.

When Massimo joined me, I could see the blindfold he held in his grasp. It should've been anticipated that he would blindfold me before leaving. He didn't want me to know where I was, nor did he want me to know where we were going.

I glanced back at the home we left only to be accompanied with a frown. It was a typical house. The kind of house where a middle-class family lived in. It was the kind of house that would have two kids—a boy and a girl. They would even have a Golden Retriever. Instead, it was a safe house where a murderer lurked. He was sadistic.

I didn't bother to say a word as Massimo reached for my glasses. He easily slid them off my face. In no time, he tied the fabric over my eyes to shut me out from the world. Even when he pulled too tight, my lips sealed without allowing me to say a word.

"Go," Massimo stated, speaking in the same language that the men who grabbed me had spoken in.

My body was quivering, and the more I tried to stop it, the more I seemed to shake. Sweat was claiming my body and my heart wouldn't stop its sprinting. Despite my body's reaction, I was alert and ready to defend myself from whatever attack.

I could feel my nerves peak as the car began to move. We were traveling down a road that I wished to see. Not only to know where I was going so I could escape and find my way back home, but just to enjoy the landscape of the outdoors. It was the one thing that would be able to calm me.

Massimo may have promised no one was going to kill me, but that didn't mean they weren't going to hurt me.

"You look like a little scared puppy," Massimo chuckled. I turned to the source of the sound, still uncomfortable with saying anything.

"I told you that we don't plan on killing you, Selena," he said.

"Will you hurt me?" I asked quietly. He was chuckling again. His show of amusement made the hairs on my neck stand up a bit straighter. I wondered what his hilarity meant. Maybe it meant that my suspicions were accurate, and they were planning on torturing me.

"No. At least, I won't. Saint, on the other hand, I can't make a promise for that man. He's unpredictable with a temper. However, as long as you listen to him, you should be okay," Massimo informed me with pure honesty dripping from his words. I was hoping he would make me feel better about this entire situation, but he didn't.

"What do you want from me?"

"We will be offering you a job. You will work for us in hopes of using your skills," he said.

"As in, my computer skills," I muttered.

"Yes."

"What if I don't want the job?" I questioned. Based on my position, I don't believe I have much of a choice. They were going to force me to take the job, whether I wanted it or not.

"Well, it's either you take the job or you..."

"I die?" I asked.

Suddenly, it was as if my quivering had come to stop. I've anticipated that reality, death. I began to wonder if this was how my mother felt when she was stolen from her life... her normal life... her life when she was with me. Was her situation as frightening as mine? Did she stay strong like she had always warned me to do?

Massimo didn't answer my question. I didn't need him to. I already knew my chances of making it out alive were slim. I just needed some form of reassurance. I tried to claw at a potential better option that didn't include the death or torture of myself.

When the vehicle came to a sudden stop, I realized we were finally at the destination. I heard car doors begin to open and close leaving the wind to rush into the car and surpass me. It didn't take long for the door by my side to finally pull open.

I was grabbed by the arm and moved towards a figure. Pine was quick to filter my nostrils. I couldn't see them, but I could just tell that trees were surrounding my very existence. I wanted to overlook the richness of green leaves, but the blindfold blocked my desire.

"Come on," Massimo mumbled. My feet were moving without want as I was dragged by the man.

.....

SELENA

I watched the men, all of them speaking to one another like the best of friends. However, I could feel the tension in their every word. They impersonated being allies, but I knew that they were only keeping their adversaries close. I've heard their conversations about one another. All of them were threatened by the power of the other. All of them were waiting for the moment to attack so they could claim the throne. All of them cared about no one other than themselves.

It was hard not to stare at the men for too long. I knew everything they did. I knew everything they were capable of. All of their secrets were stored in my brain, and my brain made sure to remind me of them. It was whispering the thing these men wanted no soul to hear.

All of their victims were playing out in my mind over and over again like a song I just couldn't get out of my head. The men at the table killed people, kidnapped people, did harsh things like pouring acid on the innocent, and forcing their victims to drink poison that will kill them slowly and painfully. And I was there... right in front of them.

I was arms length away from the hands that murdered without remorse. Even though I tried to keep a smile on my face, the screams of people whose lives were mercilessly taken echoed over the men's laughs. Every time I saw them take a drink, the poison that lingered in their victims throats almost burned through mine. Every drag of the cigar, filled my lungs with the intoxicating smoke from the fire they lit that killed each of their prey.

I was surrounded by inhuman savages, and the worst part was pretending like I had no clue.

Saint gripped my wrist. A wrist that I hadn't realized was shaking until he touched me. I turned to look at him, but he was staring out in front of him like he hadn't just grabbed me.

I sighed as I looked away, trying not to look at all of the mobsters in front of me.

"So, Saint..." Dante began. Saint's harsh hold on me grew tighter. I was sure that if he didn't loosen up his grip, he'd break my wrist.

"I thought you would be marrying Cecilia," he said.

I glanced at Saint, wondering what was going through his mind. He didn't seem to like the girl much. Then again, he didn't really like anyone. It just never would occur to me that someone like Cecilia is the girl he would marry.

"I have time to decide," Saint responded dismissively. Dante leaned forward on the table, his elbows resting on the table cloth, and his hands folded underneath his chin. His eyes of hazel were dominantly staring into Saint's. It was like he was asserting his power, and I could feel it.

"And what about the girl you have now?" Dante asked as if I wasn't sitting right there.

"You're in my business. Why?" Saint question, a sarcastic smile rising onto his face. I could tell Saint was trying his best to contain his anger, and the only reason I knew that was because of how tightly he was holding onto me.

Dante chuckled. "I'm just curious, that's all."

"Take your curious ass somewhere else and away from what I'm doing," Saint demanded.

Dante smiled, but before he could say something in response, his father tapped his arm.

I gulped when Dante's eyes flew to me. Awkwardly, I looked down at my lap.

To make myself feel better, I would pick at my nails, but when I tried to pull my wrist out of Saint's hold, he wouldn't allow it. Instead, I had to settle with playing with the fabric of my dress with just one hand.

Saint leaned down until his lips were hovering over my ear. "I don't share, Angel," he whispered, his tone proving just how angry he truly was. It didn't take a genius to know he was referring to Dante. He probably noticed Dante's stare way before I had the chance to.

I didn't know why, but I glanced up, taking in my eyelashes that were covering the top of my vision as I glimpsed at Dante. He was still looking at me.

"He's a friend," I found myself mumbling. I intended to reassure Saint, even though he didn't deserve the reassurance. But I was sure I failed at reassuring him and only fueled his wrath.

Saint dropped my wrist from his hold as I had just scorched him. I glared at my arm, recognizing the purple that began to tarnish my skin.

Saint slid his hand in-between the slit of my dress. His warm, veiny hand palmed my thigh. I immediately tensed up as his hand inched up higher and higher. He was burning me with his touch. So much to the point that my goosebumps began to singe.

I peered at Dante again, growing frustrated that he was still looking at me. He wasn't aware of Saint's manipulations, but I was. And the longer Dante stared, the more careless Saint's actions became.

I gasped as Saint harshly gripped my pulsing core from outside my panties. I reached for his wrist, but it didn't stop a single thing.

Everyone looked over at me questionably, and I just knew I was blushing due to how much my cheeks were simmering, proving just how much my core was dripping.

"I will fuck you on this table if he doesn't stop looking at what belongs to me," Saint suggested. I bit down on my lip as Saint's grip grew harsher.

"Nothing here belongs to you," I gritted out.

Saint chuckled, sarcasm dripping from his chest.

I thought he was going to respond, or let go of me and laugh about how much it was a joke. However, one thing I never expected was for Saint to pick me up and throw me on the table...