𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

eleven

It's now the weekend, and I've been spending all week working on ways to get myself outside of this compound and to my father.

I've been spending all of this time thinking on how to phrase to him the information I have learned in this short period of time.

I don't have much, but hopefully I have enough. I actually cannot bear to see the look of disappointment on his face if I come to him with information that isn't satisfiable.

I can hear him now: "I knew you were too young and naive. Too green, for me to hand you such a difficult mission."

I roll over in the comfy covers and audibly groan into my pillow for a good couple of minutes. I even think about kicking my feet into the mattress for dramatic effect.

"Stressed?" A deep voice comes from my door.

"Fuck off Marcelo." I say, face still in the pillow.

"Sorry, what was that?" His voice is closer and I feel my bed sink on my right side.

I roll over with narrowed eyes and see Marcelo perched on my bed with two cups of coffee in his hand, "Drink."

I eye the coffee cup suspiciously before taking it into my own hands, "Is this black? Jeez. You are a sociopath."

"Cream takes away the flavor." He says bluntly and takes a sip from his own mug.

"That's the point." I reply back.

He sighs and stands from my bed, "I need you for something today."

"No can do capo." I take a drink and slide my legs off of the bed.

"No?" He raises an eyebrow.

"I have work to do." I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. I figure a half truth is the best route to take in this situation.

He sets his coffee cup on the table besides the door and folds his arms, "Really?"

"I have other clients. What makes you so special?" I'm now sliding off my shirt and his eye line goes straight to my breasts.

His eyebrows practically raise to his hairline, "I find it amusing how you think I trust you enough to leave."

"I find it amusing how you think I care." I roll my eyes and walk from the room, now that I'm fully dressed in day clothing: black jeans and a black tank top.

Halfway during my strut down the hallway, his large hand is wrapped around my wrist. I turn with fury in my eyes and yank myself from his grip, "You can't keep me here like I'm fucking Rapunzel."

"Who?" He seems genuinely confused and I roll my eyes.

"For fucks sake." I take off down the stairs.

This time he doesn't follow but instead says my name in a low, demanding tone. I stop, but don't turn around.

When I feel his presence behind me, I whisper lowly, "Am I a prisoner?"

My backs still to him and I hear him take a deep breath in, "Just go." He says in a very resigned tone.

This shocks me so much, I finally turn around and face him. His jaw is set in stone and he's looking upwards instead of at me, "But be back at a reasonable time, will you? I still have shit I need you to do."

And without a second glance at me, he turns on his heel and goes straight into his office. The door makes a thunk! against its hinges and I scoff in amusement, but I don't give him any time to ruminate and come out to change his mind.

I practically run towards the door. My father and I have already planned this meet (and all the others) before he sent me off. I'm to meet him at a low profile diner in downtown Sicily.