V E R A
6 Y E A R S A G O
"Be careful." My dad's voice rings on the phone. No matter where I go, where I am at, he will always tell me those two words.
I don't mind it at all, I like that he's concerned about my well-being. Not a lot of mafia men are like that with their daughters unless she was arranged for marriage. Then they'd be all up in her ass.
I walk around the city's ballroom, my heels clicking against the marbled, slippery floor. My navy blue dress is tight around my body making it hard to breathe. I got this dress last minute because my dad was supposed to go tonight but he ended up getting stuck at home when one of his favorite soldier passed away earlier today so I had to go and give his envelope of money to the donation.
At the charity ball, you're not allowed to send checks which would've been a whole lot easier these days but the people who run this charity prefer cash. Not sure why but I rather not question it. I don't really have many friends here, all because of the incident with my mother.
Everyone outside of his state thinks that my dad had killed both my sister and my mother and the reason he kept me was because I helped him. I hear the whispers about it at every event we attend. It doesn't bother my dad one bit that he got all the blame and criticism. It doesn't bother him when women pull their children away from him but it bothers me because everyone loves to believe in lies and rumors. Nobody would even give me a second glance when I try to explain what happened.
My dad has always been a good person, probably even better than me. He's so selfless and caring. Way too damn caring for his own good. I want the whole world to know that but it's like they're deaf. They rather listen to rumors and believe that he's a monster rather than listen to me explain everything.
Eventually, I stopped trying because I learned to let people think what they want to think. I stopped giving a fuck about ignorant people who think they know every little thing.
People have tried talking to me, to continuously give me their "condolences." I don't even know what their condolences are for and I'm pretty sure they fucking don't either.
Speaking of ignorant people who think they know everything, Vincenzo I want to punch his bitch ass in the face Mancini walks up to me in his million-dollar suit, flashing me with his yellow teeth. He's holding two glasses of champagne.
He better not hand one to me.
As he walks up he extends his hand out, trying to hand me the glass of champagne.
Great.
I take it but don't take a sip. It doesn't look tampered with but there are plenty of drugs out there that don't look noticeable.
"Vera, glad to see you here without your father." He smiles and I feel my stomach churn.
Soren must've gotten his genes from his mother because this disaster standing in front of me makes me want to gag. He smells strongly of alcohol, cigarettes, and blood. Not a great mixture at all.
I don't smile, nor do I make any sort of expression. He seems to love feeding off of others' emotions. If he knows you're scared of him, he'll do anything to make sure the fear evolves.
"How's your father? I haven't seen much of him lately."
He doesn't actually care but he's trying to be "polite."
"He's great."
"Great, glad to hear." Right on cue, Tristan, his eldest son walks up. Tristan eyes me up and down, the corner of his lips lifting into a smirk as his tongue peeks out to lick his bottom lip.
YOU ARE READING
Vera
Romance[BOOK 1] 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐧 It's been years since I laid eyes on her. The last time I did, I held her body to the ground and watched her bleed out. I thought she was dead, but she's alive and well. That's not the only surprise. I have a kid too, a three ye...
