Dangerous In Black (four)

Two

Rome

Rome had never seen someone so beautiful in her life; if beautiful was the word used to describe Alejandro Martini, Rome knew he sure surpassed it. Over the past four to five years, Rome had only heard rumors of the Martini's— a Mafia family who took care of anyone and anything in their way. She knew all the stories, heard all the rumors and saw all the results of anyone who tried to test them. She knew that they were in first place and no one dared try to take their spot unless they had a death wish. Her father, Sai Khalil, understood that and instead of trifling with them sort them out to become allies.

However, the meeting was not what her father had expected as Rome heard him screaming at his men in the other room while she daydreamed about the gorgeous man whom she had walked out a few hours ago. His dark hair was combed back elegantly and his stormy grey eyes set on her, a prince in a black suit Rome hoped would save her because lord knows, she needed it. She sat up straight, with her sweaty palms clasped together as she waited for her father to come and dismiss her.

Silently, she prayed to the lord above that he'd leave her alone today because she was still limping from the last time he'd become angry and took a deep breath when she recognized his heavy footsteps.

ابنة

(daughter) he said calmly which made Rome wary.

He hardly ever spoke to her in Arabic, but nevertheless Rome stood up and approached him silently.

الركوع

(Kneel down) he ordered.

Rome tried not to wince as her knees touched the cold hardwood floor and she closed her eyes, bowing her head.
"My plans tonight did not go as expected and unfortunately....."
She let the rest of his spew drown out; she was tired of hearing his excuses for hurting her. When she no longer heard his voice, obediently as she had done many times before, she lifted her head and received the first slap.

The pain was numbing as her once silky white cheeks were now red and blotchy. Silent tears of resentment spilled from her eyes as she stared up towards the man who was supposed to love and protect her. Rome however, would never let her hate for her father show as she stood up wobbling a bit, her knees probably already bruised as his hand dismissed her without a care in the world and silently, Rome walked to her room.

Her room was her sanctuary in the hell, she called her home. In there, she was safe from her father's wrath, or, at least she liked to think so. Treating her skin to aloe vera, Rome changed out of her dress; her mind trailing to Alejandro who had seemingly enraptured her. The man had a mystery to him that Rome could daydream about for hours but she was not naive, unfortunately, she knew that Alejandro would probably never save her, no one would save her because her father would never let her go.

Rome untied her wavy hair letting it cascade onto her back in loose curls and moving towards her bed as she curled into the cushions wrapping herself into a blanket. Rome suddenly thought back to the request she had given him, a plea for help. A plea thinking back on it now she knew he must have ignored because her presence in the grand scheme of things was seemingly unimportant. Rome wasn't anything special, she was never told otherwise anyway. She had never been told that she was beautiful and her father had never told her that he loved her, so she ceased to believe it.

Rome had always been treated as if her presence was a nuisance that she should always be in the background and let the men or more importantly her father do all the talking. Rome had been alone for most of her life. After her mother's mysterious death when she was ten, her father had forgotten about her until she was fifteen and ripe for picking. Rome had endured so much, too much— she felt trapped, incarcerated in her own home and too fight back; Rome had tried and failed and the consequences were still visible on her body.

After that day, two years ago, Rome promised herself she'd stay in the background and follow her father's orders because as much as she hated her life she did not want to die, she did not want to end up like the others her father had murdered. It was around midnight and Rome still couldn't find it within her to sleep, the screams of her father's prostitute, Kylana echoing through the halls; she felt sympathy for the woman and on occasion whenever she was secretive enough would sneak into Kylana's room and treat her wounds.

The woman was a few years her senior but still young enough to be her sister and the two had over time become friends. Kylana had been with her father for three years now and Rome knew it was only a matter of time before Kylana was taken out in a body bag and a new woman was brought in to take Kylana's place. Rome had tried desperately to help the woman to escape but Kylana had refused every time, her father had given her a roof over her head and in Kylana's mind she owed him her life.

Rome wanted to tell her that she owed her father nothing that, that sick son of a bitch deserved death and that no one deserves to be treated that way but the older woman would only shake her head; her mind already made up, that this was the way life was supposed to be, this was destined to be her future and there was no way to change it. Rome covered her head with her pillow, attempting to ignore the torturous screams of the other woman when finally, she was able to drift off into a dreamless sleep.

~*~

A U T H O R ' S    N O T E

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