Rosalie Rossi (18) is the daughter of the famous Marcus Rossi, the don of the Italian mafia, the second most powerful mafia in the world.
She grew up thinking he would always protect her and she knew she could always trust him. But that trust is l...
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I stand, ignoring Lorenzo, and walk straight towards the stairs that lead to the front door but I pause before walking up them.
My heart is thrashing around my chest, I feel like you can hear it through my flesh and clothes. What was my father thinking? I can't do this, I can't be a wife. I can barely be a good enough daughter.
I hear Lorenzo's footsteps until he's right behind me. His hand comes up and moves my hair away from my ear, then I feel his breath on my neck "are you going to walk up the steps..." he pauses "or am I going to have to drag you?"
I swallow the lump that has formed in my throat. His hand goes to my lower back and he guides me up the steps. I don't want to enter the house because I know when I do I won't be able to leave. This is going to be my life forever.
We reach the top of the steps "now that wasn't so hard was it, princess" he walks forward, opens the door and puts his hand out telling me to go in.
I walk forward and into the house.
He closes the door behind him and walks forward so he's standing behind me. He grabs my arm and spins me so my back is against the door. His slowly moves his hand up the side of my body and along the side of my jaw. I don't dare move.
He moves his face down so he can look me in the eye without having to tilt my head. "A pretty little thing aren't you?" He whispers as his arm comes up and he places his hand next to my head. I close my eyes.
I feel so vulnerable right now, he could do anything and it wouldn't matter because you get away with anything in the mafia. So I close my eyes and prepare myself for what's to come.
I hear his low chuckle before he pushes off the door and starts to walk towards the big staircase that is in the middle of the entryway, I open my eyes "come on then, I don't have all day" he says.
I take a deep breath and force myself to follow him.
This place is huge. I thought my fathers house was big but this is at least double the size. I don't understand why one person would need so much room to himself. But I guess now I live here to, how the hell am I going to cope.
We reach the top of the stairs and Lorenzo turns right and walks down a hallway. There are only three doors.
He stops walking and points to the door closest to us "that's my room and my office is sit next door" he says pointing to the other door.
He walks forward and opens the last door left in the hallway.
"Wow" I say under my breath as I enter the room. My room.
The room is big and spacious, with a floor to ceiling window. The colours are light and make the room look cosy.
I wasn't expecting a room like this.
"Do you like it?" He questions.
I turn around and look at him "yes, thank you" I whisper and look down to the floor.
He stands there looking at me for what feels like an hour, but is only a few seconds "right well, I have work to do. If you need anything I'll be in my office down the hall."
I nod. He looks at me like he wants to say something but decides against it. He turns and walks out of the door, closing it behind him. I swiftly walk to the door and lock it, thanking god for giving me a lock on this door.
I can't stop thinking about my father and what made him decide to do this. He always told me I was loved and that I would always have a family, until she died anyway.
When I was 10 years old, when my mother was alive, I remember when he sat me down in the living room and told me that I would always be safe.
When I was 11 years old, when my mother was still alive, i remember when he sat me down in the living room and told me that he would always protect me.
When I was 12 years old, when my mother was gone, I remember when he sat me down in his office and told me that she had died, that she took her own life.
When I was 13 years old, when he was falling apart at the seams, I remember when he hit me. I remember the look of anger in his eyes as he struck me across the face and then the look of guilt as he realised what he had done.
My father was never a bad person, until he was.
I slowly slide down the door, tears pooling in my eyes. I hug my legs into my chest and then let the tears fall.
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I turn on my side and shield my eyes from the sun. I don't want to move. I'm hoping this is all a dream and I don't want any of this to be real.
It can't be real. I remove my arm from my face and I'm brought back to the unfamiliar walls of my new home. I sit up and mentally prepare myself for today.
Slowly I make my way to the bathroom. I dread to see what I look like, I hardly got any sleep last night and I couldn't stop crying. Once the tears started they wouldn't stop.
I look in the mirror. My eyes are puffy and red, my hair is sticking up at every possible angle and I look exhausted. I am exhausted.
I take a quick shower and as I'm stepping out I hear a knock on my bedroom door. "One second" I say grabbing a towel and wrapping it around myself.
I open the door so I can see out but whoever it is can't see in. More specifically, can't see my body.
"Can I come in?" Lorenzo says looking down at me.
"Um" I look down at the floor "can you come back in like 5 minutes" I shift uncomfortably behind the door.
"Why?" He raises a questioning eyebrow at me.
"Because... I- um" I stutter "I'm only in a towel" my face is burning.
He looks at me with a board expression before pushing the door open further and moving into the room "why would I care if you were in a towel?" He asks walking over to the closet.
"You might not, but I definitely do" I say making my current anger apparent.
"Then take it off" he says as he swings open the closet doors and walking inside. "We have an event at 7 pm tonight, you will have to be ready to go at 6. I will explain everything on the way there. But right now I have business to attend to" he says existing the closet with a long black dress in his hands.
He sets it down on a chair in the corner of the room and then turns to me. He looks down at the towel that is wrapped tightly around my body and says "I thought you didn't like the towel?"
I hug my arms around my waist and hold them there waiting for him to leave. But instead of leaving he walks towards me, grabs my arms and pulls me up from the bed. I gasp.
He wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me in so I'm secure against his body. My hands involuntarily move to his chest. "Are you going to answer my question, or am I going to have to force an answer out of you?" He asks.
I turn my face away from him, I feel like I'm suffocating in this fucking towel. He roughly grabs my chin and forces me to look at him "look at me when I talk to you" he says moving his face so close to mine that his breath fans my lips.
"I never said I didn't like the towel" for some odd reason, I fucking hate the towel.
He stares at my face for a minute more before letting go of me and swiftly walking to the door "breakfast is ready in the kitchen, the maid can make you something if you don't want it".
