Vittoria

1. Family

"Vittoria Ilaria Eleonora Abruzzo!"
My mother screamed my name as she walked into my room.

"Wake your lazy ass up. The Quintilianis will be here soon. We need to make a good impression on our new partners," she reminded me

Rolling over I realized it was still dark.

"Jesus mom! I told you I'd be ready before they got here. It's early, let me sleep," I moaned

I gasped as my mother peeled back the curtains in my room, revealing the blinding sun.

"Fucking idiot," my mother groaned.

"Get the fuck up now Vittoria. I want you dressed and downstairs in 45 minutes." mother hissed.

As she walked out my room I covered myself once more with my comforter.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF BED NOW!" my mother boomed from the hallway.

"STOP YELLING! I'M AWAKE MAMMA," I yelled back at her.

I swung my legs over the edge of my bed and glanced around my room.

My room was mostly white and marble with touches of cream and blue. I had pillars in every corner of my room, with striped wallpaper surrounding me.

The glass chandelier that hung from my abnormally tall ceilings threatened to pierce my body at any moment. My entire house was extremely over the top with expensive artwork and furnishings.

My father was a very dangerous and powerful man who ran the family mafia.

He took over after my grandfather passed 15 years ago. I was only 3 then so I don't remember my nonno very well, but my family never lets anyone forget who our family is or was.

Today my father arranged for our new business partner to have brunch with our family.

From what I heard the Quintiliani's were extremely rich and powerful just like us. The only difference between our two families is we're Italian and they're Greek.

My family consists of my mother, father, two younger brothers and me. I also have my aunt Zarina, who helps me with all my problems. Zarina is from my mother's side and she is one of my favorite people in the world.

She is only 7 years older then me so I've always seen her as a sister. Zarina is 12 years younger then my mother but they've always been close.

Finally leaving my bed I make my way into my bathroom.

I lean against the counter staring at myself in the mirror. I looked terrible.

I'm quite short for my age thanks to my mother, as I'm only 5'2. I weigh 165 and have a decent figure. I've got a little bit of a stomach and stretch marks cover my thighs, boobs and butt. I have jet black hair with strong blue eyes that come from my mother's family. Sprinkled across my face is a light dusting of tan freckles that complimented my olive skin.

My father liked to brag to his acquaintances about his "goddess of a daughter."

I know I'm not ugly but I wouldn't go around calling myself a goddess.

After standing in the mirror for five minutes, I walked over to my shower and turned the water on the hottest setting.

Stepping into the shower, I let the scalding water hit my body with an aching rhythm.

Once I was done, I got out the shower and washed my face in the sink. I stared at myself in the mirror preparing for the shit show that was sure to come during this terrible brunch. I brushed my teeth then went over to my closet to find something to wear. My papà told me to look presentable or I would be in trouble.