I didn't exactly choose to be stolen at four years old.
But the French underworld isn't big on consent.
One minute I was Donatella Acardi, Mafia royalty. The next? Just another stolen kid bleeding in someone else's basement.
That's where I met Ami...
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Donatella POV:
The room was dark.
Not the pitch-black kind. Just dim, like it couldn’t decide if it wanted to sleep or sulk. The only light came from the hallway seeping in under the door, casting a dull stripe across the hardwood. I lay on my side, back to the wall, arms curled under my pillow, facing him.
He wasn’t looking at me.
He was on the other side of the bed, lying flat, one arm thrown over his face, like even existing in the same space as me was a chore tonight. The distance between us felt like a war zone. My stupid, massive king-size mattress had never felt bigger.
He didn’t speak.
Didn’t even sigh dramatically like he usually did when I pissed him off. He just laid there. Still. Cold. Like I didn’t even exist.
It was worse than yelling.
I hated it.
I hated it.
I shifted under the covers, rustling loudly just to make him acknowledge me. Nothing. No reaction. Not even a twitch.
I rolled to my back.
Stared up at the ceiling.
Why did ceilings always look so smug when you were wrong?
I bit my lip and reached down to scratch at my wrist. My hand was bandaged, thumb sticking out, still sore, still red. He’d done that. Cleaned it. Wrapped it. Pulled glass out of my skin even while I yelled at him like a rabid animal.
I exhaled hard through my nose. “Okay,” I mumbled.
Nothing.
I sat up. “Okay, fine.”
Still nothing.
“You’re being dramatic.”
That earned me a tiny twitch in his jaw. Barely visible in the dark.
I scooted over a few inches.
Not a lot.
Just a couple. Just enough to close the moral distance between us, not the physical one.
“I said okay.”
Nothing.
I yanked the covers up higher on my lap and crossed my arms, instantly irritated. “I’m not good at this, alright?”
Still nothing.
I turned more toward him.
“You’re mad,” I said, then rolled my eyes, “obviously. I mean. You should be. Whatever.”
That definitely made his brow twitch, but he didn’t open his eyes. Didn’t speak.
