Vengeance.
It's something I've been taught as the son of a cruel mafia don; something I've comforted myself with for years.
When the one thing that kept me grounded is yanked away so ruthlessly, it's only in my nature to strike out in the only way...
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I swatted at the tears on my cheeks, sucking in a breath to rein back my emotions. He wasn't worth my tears. They would not get me anywhere. He'd said so himself.
They only drove him to cause me more pain.
I set to work on breakfast, doing things to the best of my ability, not because I wanted to please him, but because I found the task interesting. I just didn't want to give in to his demands.
Cooking wasn't my strongest suit, and until recently, I didn't put any effort into it. That didn't mean I couldn't whip up some pancakes, or at least, I hoped I could.
I'd watched my friend do the task diligently on some mornings while I watched her. With that memory stuck in the forefront of my mind, I put breakfast together.
I stood back with a proud smile, admiring my work. They turned out better than I'd expected. If only I had my phone to take a picture of it, I would've sent it to Raquel.
As I took a seat to devour my food, Nicholas walked into the kitchen. He'd changed out of his sweats and into a suit that molded over his body perfectly. He looked like he'd just stepped out of the front page of some magazine.
"Did Sara help you with this?" He asked, inspecting the pile of golden pancakes.
"Why would Sara help me? That wasn't included in your instructions, was it? Heaven forbid we go against your orders," I snarled.
He cocked his head to the side. "You keep testing the waters, Giselle."
I resisted the urge to correct him. I didn't go by Giselle anymore. Over the years, I'd shortened it to Elle, and that was what friends and family called me now. It was unusual to hear him call me by my full name.
"Keep pushing me, and see if I won't bury you before the month runs out," he threatened.
Death would be better than living in this nightmare, but I refrained from telling him. Knowing him, he'd withhold himself anytime he was close to killing just so he could continue tormenting me.
Sara strolled into the kitchen at that moment, a worried expression on her face.
"A lady is here to see, Giselle. She claims to be her aunt. Her name is Adrienne."
Aunt Adrienne. I'd not seen her at the wedding, and she was the one I missed the most of all my family members. The last time I heard from her, she was visiting her husband's grave in Sicily.
"Tell her to get the fuck out," Nicholas simply said, stacking a plate of pancakes for himself.
"No!" I shouted. "Please," I added when he cocked a brow at me. "Let me just see her for a bit."
"No. Sara, have the guards turn her away. My bride isn't receiving guests."
