DANCE WITH THE ENEMY

CHAPTER EIGHT

ZARIYAH

My flight landed in Rome at 6:45 pm, three days after I'd gathered my kids and left Nigeria, following Marco's orders. A barrage of messages flooded my phone - inquiries about my arrival, my well-being, and my silence. But I ignored them, still seething at Marco for exiling me to Italy.

Gazing out the window, my mind wandered to the life I once knew. After completing my law degree and master's in New York, law school and the bar exams were all that remained. Then fate intervened, upending my family's life. The countless sleepless nights, the isolation, the sacrifices - all for nothing. I'd been a recluse, focused solely on my studies, never indulging in the city's social scene. The irony isn't lost on me; I've transformed from a diligent student to a seeker of vengeance.

Today, I'm entrenched in a world of crime, unapologetic and resolute. My sole objective is to become an unparalleled assassin, driven by an unwavering determination to secure justice for my family. The corrupt judges, lawyers, and law enforcement who wronged us will be held accountable.

The massive gate to the estate swung open, revealing a world unlike any I'd known. Marco's estate was grand, but this was on a different scale. Stern-looking men in suits and guns strapped to their waists or shoulders patrolled the grounds, radiating an air of battle readiness.

The car halted before a majestic mansion, and I stepped out, thanking the driver, whose perpetual frown seemed etched on his face. "Hello, I'm Matteo Salvatore, Lorenzo's right-hand man," a tall, handsome man with a rugged build introduced himself.

"Nice to meet you, Matteo. I'm Zariyah," I replied, shaking his hand, his rough fingers brushing against mine.

"You were supposed to arrive yesterday. The boss hates tardiness," Matteo said, his deep voice commanding.

"I had things to take care of," I shot back, holding his gaze.

"Boss doesn't care about that," Matteo countered, eyes narrowing.

"Well, I'm not sorry. I had important things to deal with. I'm here now; doesn't that count?" I snapped, eyes locked on his.

Matteo chuckled unexpectedly. "I think we'll get along just fine, Zariyah. I'll show you to your room."

I snorted. "I doubt that." I picked up my bag and followed him.

My fist pounded against the punching bag, working on my impact and speed. I barely slept, my case of insomnia getting worse, and since I was out of meds, I tossed from side to side for the longest hour. At the crack of dawn, I found myself wandering until I stumbled upon "The Training Room."

"You didn't come for breakfast," Matteo's voice echoed behind me.

"I wasn't hungry." I groaned, my pace not relenting as I tossed my fist at the unmoving bag.

"It's a rule, not an option," a darker voice spoke up, compelling me to turn and find out who it belonged to. The taller man, with a build like a god and a face so striking it gave world models a run for their money, must have been God's favorite piece - made on a special day when God was in a really good mood. His aura and authority reverberated across the room, nearly choking me.

I snapped out of it and fixed him a glare. "I have a choice whether or not I'll live by your rules." I retorted.

He chuckled and, with a few strides, covered the space between us. "Not when you live in my house and under my protection. I don't take lightly to disrespect, so you better get your head out of your ass and fix your attitude." He towered over me, looking like all he needed to crush me was a snap of his fingers, and it pissed me off.

From the corner of my eye, I saw his men begin to file in, watching us like we were in some movie scene.

"I will not fall on my knees and kiss your feet simply because you said so." I grit, watching as he closed the gap between us. My face was in close range with his chest.

"Get on that ring, Bambina. Let's see who's kissing whose feet henceforth." He ordered. His men roared in cheers, and my eyes widened, burning with annoyance.

Tossing my shirt aside, I got on the ring, leaving me in my yoga shorts and sports bra. He joined me, shedding his shirt.

"Show me what you've got." He mocked condescendingly.

I charged for his face with my punch, and he caught it. I used the momentum to pull him forward, attempting a throw, but he was too strong. He countered with a swift elbow to my chest, sending me stumbling back.

I regained my footing and launched a flurry of kicks, but he blocked each one with ease. His smirk grew as he seized my ankle and spun me into a vicious slam. I landed hard on the ground, dazed.

As I struggled to rise, he pounced, wrapping his arms around my neck in a tight chokehold.

"Is that all you've got for that little pissing attitude of yours?" He sneered, his hot breath against my ear.

I tried to pry his arms apart, but his grip was unyielding. My vision began to blur, and I knew I was running out of time.

Seething in anger, I did the one thing more humiliating than having my ass beat: I tapped out.

He chuckled wickedly as he loosened his grip on my neck but held me close.

"Until you learn to turn all that emotion inside you into strength, you'll only be a little bitch with nice tits. And nobody cares about that in this world. So if you want to survive, you better grow a backbone to match that ego. All the men in here, none of them will go easy on you just because you're a girl. So you can decide to either suck their cocks for free or have them groveling at your knees. Your choice."

He rapped and I grit my teeth in annoyance.

"I do not intend to pamper you like my cousin did, so get that ass running. In my kingdom, you follow my rules, because my word is law." He sneered before shoving me aside and slipping out of the ring.

"Get back to work." He growled before walking out, leaving the men roaring in excitement like cavemen.