Bound by my blood

Chapter sixteen

I remember mornings when my head didn't hurt
And I remember nights when art didn't feel like work
— — —
I drag myself into the bathroom and fill up the glass cup that had been left on my nightstand along with some Advil.

My eyes feel heavy as I look into the mirror. My hair was knotty and I had makeup smeared all over my face.

Grumbling to myself, I swallow the ibuprofen before downing the water. I wipe the remains of my makeup off and pull on my black robe.

I assume that Vincenzo had taken my jewellery and dress off last night as I woke up in my lacy underwear and his oversized shirt.

Tiredly, I tug a brush through my hair and pull it up into a messy bun.

I sigh as I make my way downstairs. The sound of talking came from the kitchen and I hope that it's Vincenzo maids.

I don't think I can deal with him yet. I needed at least an hour before I can have a serious conversation with anyone.

The chattering stops as I step into the kitchen and I see the bitch that attacked me from last night along with her lap dog sat on the breakfast bench.

Someone give me strength...

I make my way to the fridge and pull out the cartoon of orange juice. One of the girls clears their throat but I ignore them.

As I pour myself a glass they clear their throat again and I roll my eyes before facing them.

"Do you want a fucking soother or some shit? Instead of keep clearing your throat" I snap, I just want my orange juice in peace.

"Bitch who do you think your talking to?" She responds, quickly jumping to her feet.

"You, Tiffany, who else?" I sneer, "the invisible man".

"Who the fuck is Tiffany?" Her friend questions. A look of pure confusion on her face as she tries to figure it out.

I roll my eyes and grab the entire cartoon of orange juice, leaving the glass on the side. On my way out I grab the box of Oreo O's before retreating to the back garden.

I dip my feet into the pool as I shove a handful of the cereal into my mouth. I nearly moan at how good the Oreo hoops taste.

Chocolaty substances are always needed. Especially when I have a killer hangover like this.

I drink the rest of my orange juice straight from the carton before laying on my back and staring up at the clouds.

My mind wanders to my life in New York City. Waking up every morning to the sound of the busy streets. To the sound of my family and gang members laughing and planning heists and missions.

It was peaceful and normal. I wish I could go back in time and find a way out of this disaster.

A small sigh escapes my lips as I think back to my life before this.

It was pretty boring (well as boring as it could be when your families the mafia) and I always longed for something more but this wasn't it.

I dreamed to fall in love and go on night time adventure to the beach or to 24hour dinners. Where we could just laugh and talk to our hearts content.

Me and Jax always said that one day after I finished medical school we would go to the UK and start our new lives.

A life where we lived on the right side of the law, have children and teach them everything we know. We had thought we were going to grow old together; either as best friends or lovers.

That was what I wanted but that didn't matter. Instead I agreed to go into a loveless marriage with a cold man who doesn't know how to have fun.

Suddenly, a shadow blocks my sunshine and I frown. I tilt my head and squint up at Angelo.

"Boss will be home soon and I thought you might want to talk to your parents before he came back and told you off for last night" He smiles kindly. I nod and raise my hand for him to take.

He heaves me up before grabbing the empty carton and gesturing back to the house. I grab my cereal box and dawdle behind him.

"Do you speak Spanish?" I ask quietly as we reach the control room where Angelo spends most of his time.

"No. I speak English, Italian, Latin and Sicilian. Why?" He frowns and I shrug. He looks at me in confusion before sighing and continuing setting up the video call.

It rings twice before mamma answers. I could hear babbo and Nico talking in the background and I smile at the sound of their voices.

"¡Hola mamma! ¿puedes hablar español? Entonces no nos entiende" I greet.

(Translation: hey mamma. Can you speak Spanish? So he doesn't understand us)

"¿Mi niña pequeña te están tratando bien? patearé sus traseros si ellas no son" mamma rambles.

(Translation: my baby girl are they treating you well? I will kick their asses if they are not)

"Estoy mayormente sola cada dia" I giggle, I know she would full well come all the way to Sicily to beat the crap out of everyone.

When I was 8 some of the moms were talking about me because I struggled to read and she over heard them.

Let's just say, mamma was banned from dropping me off at school again so I ended up getting moved to the private school. Mamma said that it was because it could give me a better education but I know that she was lying.

She was always protective of me but babbo and Nico were way worse.

Nico wouldn't let any boy except for gang members and family to come close to me at school because babbo told him not to.

No wonder I was seen as a freak.

However it meant I always had a lot of time on my hands as I didn't get to go to teen parties or anything.

So if they hadn't been like that I probably wouldn't have been able to go to medical school on my own... at least not without bribing someone.

"Women speak Italian or english or something else. You know I'm not very good at Spanish! It's my worst language" Babbo complains causing me and mamma to simultaneously roll our eyes at him.

Nico chuckles at our behaviour before talking to me, "¿Entonces no necesito lastimar a nadie? O contrata al segador también"

(Translation: so I don't need to hurt anybody? Or hire the reaper too)

"Not yet" I laugh, switching back to English as I hear the front door open, "Dagher doesn't do that outside of Latakia anyway".

"No but he owes me a favour after we helped him with his daily headache" Nico shrugs.

The Dagher brothers were close friends with Nico so when the oldest Daghers wife went missing we stepped in and helped find her.

Zeke -the youngest- is Nico's age and continued in his father's footsteps as a bounty hunter and assassin. Whilst Nazari built his own empire.

He owned over 20 hotels and resorts all over the world. All of them were 5 stars and very hard to get a room in.

We all talk about events that I had missed since they left and I felt content for the first time since I arrived here.