I walked to my father’s office, ignoring the prickly feeling of anxiety that crawled up the back of my throat.

Growing up in the Costa Nostra I have very little to fear. I learnt how to fight the moment I learnt how to run, I started wielding knives from as early as seven years old. I can murder a man with a blunt pencil and leave no evidence. And if all that fails, I have my father’s men to fall to.

Regardless of all that, there is one person I cannot protect myself from and that is my father- Dante Bianchi.

I knocked on his door and waited for him to let me in. After five minutes of not getting a response, I gritted my teeth and knocked again.

It’s a power game for him, letting me know that he controls my movements and he can either allow me in or not.

After a full minute- I counted- I heard a gruff ‘come in’ and I pushed the door open.

My father’s study is a reflection of everything that he is: dark and twisted. The walls are painted a deep black, there is also a dark rug on the floor that I know has seen its fair share of blood stains.

A huge mahogany table sat at the far end of the office with a similar mahogany chair behind it. That is where he sat.

My father looks a lot older than his age. I attribute that to the stress of running a mafia and the never ending paranoia that comes with it.

Wrinkles are starting to form on his face and little graying strands of hair are growing on his head. He makes sure to get a haircut every week but somehow I think he forgot this week.

His hair used to be the most beautiful chestnut color and his cruel brown eyes once looked at me with affection; not anymore.

He has the ivory skin that I have come to attribute to most Italians. I didn’t get that- another source of disappointment for him. I got my mum’s caramel skin and curly hair.

I took a seat on the opposite side of the desk and he raised a brow at me. “I didn’t say you could sit.”

Like I said, it’s a power play for him. I stood up and crossed my hands in front of me as both a sign of rebellion and to hide my frustration.

“Where did you go?’ he asked and I shrugged, “I won’t ask again Isabella, if you’re going to act like a brat then you shouldn’t mind that I treat you like one.”

“I went to a club downtown.”

“Let me get this straight,” he sat up straighter, “You ditched your guards to go to a dirty nightclub. Sei pazzo?”

I stayed quiet and stared at the vein in his head that was now bulging. My refusal to meet his eye pissed him off and in one quick move; he had thrown the mug on his table.

I refused to flinch or give him the satisfaction as it hit the wall barely an inch from my head.

“I asked you a question.”

“I don’t understand and you know it.” I finally met his eye.

“What happened before you left?” his voice had reduced to a cold whisper, “Jerry already briefed me but I want to hear it from you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He chuckled darkly, “So you don’t remember a knife being held to your throat, is that what you’re saying?”

“He wasn’t going to hurt me, I could tell from how loosely he held it; he just did it to prove a point.”

“And what point was that? That you were vulnerable, or that you let your guard down?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

He slammed his hand hard against the table, “I will tell you what I think is a big deal and what isn’t.”

I stared at him as his breathing came out in heavy pants. I know he wants an apology, but I’d be damned if he gets one from me.

After a few seconds of staring at each other heatedly he sighed.

“Laurent is waiting for you in the gym,” he relaxed into his chair, “It seems your training was not enough and you need extra reminders not to let people get you into vulnerable positions.”

“It was one time, at a nightclub.”

“And I am making sure it doesn’t repeat itself,” he turned to a pile of documents on his table, “We live a dangerous life Isabella. I have to worry about the safety of everyone under us, I will not worry about you too.”

“When have I ever given you reason to worry before today; I had the situation under control.”

“You think you did, but you didn’t.” I opened my mouth to retort but he cut me off, “Get changed and meet Laurent in ten minutes or you will be punished.”

Annoyance swirled in me but I shoved it down, “Yes sir.”

I made my way out of his office while trying to keep myself from muttering words that will undoubtedly get me into more trouble. I was about to shut the door behind me when father stopped me by calling out my name.

I didn’t turn to acknowledge him but I stopped in the middle of closing the door.

“I am doing all this for your own good Isabella,” he murmured softly, “You are my only child and I have to keep you safe. As long as the Costa Nostra does not rule, we are not safe.”

“I understand,” I forced the words out of my throat.

“Good,” I could practically hear his smile, “Wake up early tomorrow; we have somewhere to be.”

“Yes sir,” I said through gritted teeth.

I made my way out of his study and Jerry flashed me a wicked smile. One day, I will shove a knife so far down his throat that he will have to reach up his ass to get it out.

He must have seen the murderous intent in my gaze because his smile fell. This time, I flashed him a smile of my own and sashayed away.

**************************

I met Laurent in the gym. He looked tired and worn out, and frankly, he looked like he would rather be anywhere but here.

He is older than me at 30 years old. My father didn’t want an old man teaching me to fight, he wanted me to learn with someone in his youth, and Laurent is the Costa Nostra Enforcer in all but name. He does all the dirty work while the fat oaf who occupies the position takes the credit; there is no one better equipped to teach me to fight than him.

He has shaggy brown hair that is always tied into a man bun at the base of his neck. He is also married to Marie, she used to be a maid, but he took one look at her and decided that he wanted her. It’s unusual for a high ranking man to marry so low, but no one dared to tell him no.

He would have put a bullet in their skull and taken Marie anyway.

“What did you do this time?” he asked, “I have to know whether I’m going to beat your ass for making me leave Marie.”

“I let a man put me in a hold,” I shrugged, “It was deliberate though. How is Marie?”

“She’s good- satisfied, if you know what I mean.” He winked and I shoved back a gag, “Now tell me more about this man and the chokehold.”

Before I could speak, something came at me. I dodged it in time to see a dagger impale the wall behind me.

“You could’ve killed me,” I exclaimed and he shrugged.

“I could’ve but I didn’t,” was his response, “Pay attention, and keep talking.”

I huffed but did as he said. I slowly accounted the details of my evening while actively trying to avoid getting killed.

I was just telling him about what happened when Jerry came when he cleared my legs from under me. I fell on my back with a groan and glared at him.

“What was that for?”

“I was getting too predictable and you were getting too comfortable. Your attacker won’t be predictable.”

“You’re not my attacker.”

“Welcome to training where I AM your attacker; keep talking.”

I grabbed his heel and pressed my thumb into the pressure point there making him buckle and fall to one knee. Without any hesitation, I grabbed his right hand and bent it almost until the point of breaking then jammed my foot on his right hand. He let out a groan but managed to stay on his knees.

I swung up, using his hand as support. I landed with both legs trapping his kneeling body and pulled his hand so far back that any small movement would have snapped it.

“Now, I wonder whether it would be more fun to put a bullet in your skull or a knife in your neck,” I deadpanned and he shot me a look out of the corner of his eye, “I thought you said you were my attacker; I should kill you.”

“Kill me and you’ll be stuck with someone like Jerry as your trainer. Not to mention that Maria would hate you.”

“You should be begging for your life; I have you in my grasp.”

I was barely done speaking when Laurent used his right hand to grasp my leg and pulled. I fell on my left shoulder and muttered a ‘fuck’.

He stood over me with a bored look, “You talk too much.”

“You broke my shoulder.”

He looked at it then shook his head, “It isn’t broken; sprained maybe. Haven’t you outgrown the age of exaggerating your wounds?”

“Fuck you Laurent.”

He held out his hand and I eyed it for a full minute.

“Part of being a good warrior is knowing when to accept help.” He said and I rolled my eyes but took his hand. He helped me to my feet and I dusted myself off while stretching out my shoulder.

“You really messed up my shoulder this time,” I muttered and he shrugged.

“You’ll live,” he said simply, “We’re done for today. Your father said you have an important event tomorrow so we can’t train late. Ice your shoulder or it’ll bruise and I’d rather your father not have my head on a spike because I bruised you before such an important event.”

He started to leave but I was hooked by something he said, “You know what the event is.”

He stopped mid step and nodded slowly, “Everyone knows what it is.”

“Can you tell me?”

“If he hasn’t; it wouldn’t be wise for me to say anything. He would kill me.”

“Is it about me though?” his silence said it all, “Then I deserve to know. Tell me, and I’ll act like I know nothing.”

“I’ve trained you for years Isabella. You have an amazing poker face, but not when it comes to your old man.” I swallowed down the disappointment at him not telling me, “You’ll find out tomorrow. Go to sleep.”

Without another word, he turned on his heels and left. I forced down a frustrated scream as I made my way to the kitchen.

I grabbed a bag of peas from the freezer and one of the maids greeted me. I was too pissed to respond back.

How can everyone except me know what is happening? It had to have been my father’s orders. He probably did this to psych me out.

Everything is a power play to him. He wanted to remind me that I was beneath him. Why else would he tell everyone else but me?

I held the bag to my aching shoulder and let out a small wince when it came in contact. I passed a couple of guards on the way to my room but none of them acknowledged me, another rule from my father.

They are not to speak to me or even look at me or he will gouge their eyes out.

I made my way into my room and locked the door behind me. I got into bed just as I made a plan.

If he won’t tell me what tomorrow is about; then I will make it as miserable and frustrating for him as I can.