Prisoner to Mr. Mafia (Book 1 In PTMM Series)

Chapter: 6

Gianna Pov~

The reflection in the mirror stared back at me, a visage I had grown all too familiar with over the years. Pale skin, framed by dark circles, and eyes devoid of life. My eyes, brown and dull, held no spark of vitality.

I was tired of seeing this same face every day, a constant reminder of the life I led, the people who despised me, and the happiness that seemed forever out of reach.

With a weary yawn, I began to brush my teeth. Sleep had eluded me entirely last night. My mind had been consumed by thoughts of the future, the impending discovery of our true identities by the Italians. I couldn't help but wonder if my father had given up on finding us. All he had ever done was shout and mistreat us, after all.

I rushed through my morning shower, throwing on my overalls for work in a hurry. I had lost track of time due to my incessant overthinking. With my hair pulled back into a ponytail, I was ready to face the day, albeit running a bit late.

Just then, Yana burst through the door, her eyes locking onto me. "Gia, I'm having some issues," she exclaimed, her hands gesturing wildly, and her expression one of utter shock.

"What's wrong?" I inquired, hurrying over to her.

"I was brushing my teeth this morning, and I caught myself whistling!!! And singing!!!" she declared, her breathing quickening as her eyes widened.

I couldn't help it; I snickered, which quickly escalated into a deep belly laugh. I doubled over, clutching my knees as I laughed uncontrollably.

"That's your issue?" I managed to ask between fits of laughter, trying to contain myself.

"Gia! This is no laughing matter! I've never done that before. Do you realize what this means?" Yana scolded, pulling me up so that we were eye level once again.

"You're turning into a girl?" I teased, a mischievous grin on my face.

"No! I've never whistled or sung in joy in my entire life. This means we're getting too comfortable here, Gia. This is all one big dream, and it's going to be stripped away from us when father comes to get us," Yana explained, her seriousness palpable.

My playful grin faded, replaced by a grave expression. The mere mention of our father had a profound effect on me, altering my entire demeanor.

"Well... w-what if he doesn't come?" I murmured softly, my voice barely audible.

"What?" Yana asked incredulously, her eyes widening as if I had just grown two heads right in front of her.

"I mean, it's been almost a week since we've been gone. If he really wanted to, he would have found us by now," I explained, staring into my sister's pensive face.

"Sooo... what are you trying to say?" She asked, and my stomach churned with nervousness, though I couldn't quite understand why.

"I... I don't know. Maybe that we shouldn't keep our hopes up about him coming for us?" I suggested, shrugging my shoulders.

"Yana, I'm just as confused as you are. We're supposed to hate this place and the people in it. We're their enemies, Yana... But don't you feel it? The pull?" I asked softly, placing my hands on her shoulders. Her eyes welled up, and she shook her head.

"We can't do this, Gia! We can't get sucked in!" She exclaimed, her voice filled with desperation.

I recoiled slightly at her sudden outburst. She sighed, then took my hand in hers. "Gia, they can never know who we are. Let's say we do get settled in and make a life here. What do you think will happen when they find out we're the daughters of their biggest enemies? Do you think they'll welcome us with open arms? Don't be naive, Gia! After all, who's supposed to be the older sister here?" She finished, raising her eyebrows.