Mia Figlia

Chapter 20 ✔️

PoV Stella

With tear-filled eyes, I looked at him hesitantly. There was not one single good reason to tell him about my past. The memory alone of the events of more than six years ago was enough to give me sleepless nights. At least I did not suffer from night terrors since a couple of years. To tell him about the whole situation would only tear down my carefully built wall that had protected me ever since.

"What is bothering you so much that you won't even say it?" The mafioso looked at me scrutinizing. I lowered my eyelids to avoid his piercing gaze, fearing that he would not accept a no. He was running a crime family and was used to get what he wanted. Trying to hide information was futile, I fully realized it. Still, I did not fancy to talk about it.

"You are going to tell me now." His voice was harsh and demanding. Dismissively, I shook my head. It was a bad idea. I cursed myself inwardly for freaking out about the movie scene. If I had remained calm, he would not suspect anything.

"Fine, you asked for it." Roughly, he threw me onto the sofa and pushed me down. His abdomen was on top of mine. Panicking, I tried to free myself. Tears rolled down my cheeks. My heartbeat shot up and I felt sick. This reminded me too much of my worst nightmare.

"Please don't," I whispered, my voice a brittle something. I would not survive it again. Not even for Isabella. I held still, bracing myself for what was inevitably to follow.

To my astonishment, he just looked at my face calmly. He bent down to me. His full lips barely touched my forehead. Then he straightened up again and pulled me back onto his lap. Wrapping one strong arm around my waist, he gently stroked my back to calm me down.

"Which rotten bastard raped you? Tell me. I will kill him for you." His soft words against my ear sounded tempting, but I could not give in. Sure, if Riccardo killed him, it would free me on the one hand. On the other, I would have to keep his death a secret plus the reason why he died.

"I can't tell you." With difficulty, I managed to get my trembling voice under control. I was inwardly torn by my feelings and my mind, which both fought for dominance.

"Because you don't know him? Or is it for some other reason?" His eyes scanned my face for an answer. He took a deep breath when he found it.

"He is Isabella's biological father. Correct?" I winced at his statement. That was all confirmation he needed.

"Cazzo!" He lifted me off his lap and set me down on the sofa to get the bottle of bourbon. As he refilled his glass, I put my hand on his arm. He paused and looked at me questioningly.

"If I tell you the whole story, will you promise not to get drunk again?" Alcohol was never the solution to problems in my opinion.

"Why would I promise you that?" He raised an eyebrow, but his voice was still calm.

"Because it is better for my daughter, for Isabella, not to see you drunk. Children notice things like that, no matter how much you try to hide it from them."

Nervously, I waited for his answer. What was I thinking? Why would a mafia boss listen to me? The silence was eating away at my nerves. Restlessly, I slid back and forth in my seat.

"Agreed. You have my word. In return, I expect you to tell me the truth." His voice sounded sincere. It was clear to me that he was not lying. In the mafia world, a man's word was the most important thing. Or at least one of the most important things to live by. At the same time, that meant I had to open up to him, whether I wanted to or not.

"All right. But I have one request. What I am about to tell you stays between us. Above all, Isabella must not find out under any circumstances." No matter what had happened in my past, it was not my little angel's fault.

"Capisce." Riccardo nodded in understanding. I sighed and crumpled my shirt under my hands to cover my trembling.

I began to talk haltingly. The banned images of that dreadful night passed before my inner eye and awakened long-repressed feelings.

"One day, when I was just seventeen, my father told me that I had a date with the son of his business friend. I was surprised because Jack never seemed interested in me before. He was two years older than me, tall and well-toned. With his tanned skin and blond hair, he looked like the typical surfer boy. If it were not for his ice-blue eyes that could freeze any surface of water within seconds. They revealed that his innermost self was dead, that he was incapable of feeling emotions. At least that was the impression he gave me. Of all people, he wanted to meet with me. It flattered me and at the same time it sent cold shivers down my spine. His looks were amazing, but his presence made me feel sick.

To please my father, I complied. We went to an expensive restaurant, which were specialized in French haute cuisine. Although I was used to dining in expensive restaurants, I felt completely out of place. Especially because he insisted on ordering for me as well. He claimed that he could pick the right meal for me. No surprise that the result was a plate full of food in front of me, none of which I liked. Still, I had to behave like a good girl, since my father would not tolerate anything else.

Even though the evening had been a complete bust for me, I had to keep seeing him. Our parents thought matchmaking us would be a good idea to combine the businesses. At some point, Jack invited me to spend the weekend together in his father's vacation cabin. It was secluded in a forest. I enjoyed the silence there. Until he persuaded me in the evening to have a drink with him.

I was not used to alcohol. Therefore, it quickly unfolded its effect. My companion dragged me into the bedroom and tied me to the bed. He cut the clothes off my body."

I broke off crying.

"It is okay, cara, you do not have to tell me more details." Riccardo pressed my forehead against the crook of his neck again. I could feel his rapid heartbeat and his tension. He trembled ever so slightly and expelled his breath audibly through his nose, from which I concluded that he was angry. I was surprised. I thought that he did not care about me at all.

"Just tell me one thing," he murmured in my ear. "Is Isabella the result of that night?"

This was the question I had been dreading. My voice disobeyed me. I simply nodded briefly. The mob boss wrapped his arms around me and pressed me against his warm body.

A few hours later, I woke up in my bed, drenched in sweat. My heart was beating up to my throat, and I was gasping for air. Trembling, I pulled my legs to my chest, hugged them, and stared at the foot of the bed. The door flew open, and someone rushed into the room. I realized that I must have screamed in my sleep, which alarmed him. Someone else closed the door from the outside. The bed lowered beside me. A familiar smell enveloped me as I was pulled onto a lap.

"Mi dispiace, cara. È tutta colpa mia." Riccardo's deep voice was exceptionally soft. Wordlessly, I snuggled up to him. My breathing suddenly became calmer. When he was not being a complete ass, his closeness did me good. I felt safe in his arms. We sat like that for a while, but eventually I slipped off his lap and hid under my blanket. He bent down to me. His lips brushed my temple.

"You do not have to be afraid of that rotten bastard anymore. I will always protect you and Isabella from him," the Italian whispered in my ear before he left my room.

His words should reassure me because they meant protection from Jack. But who protected me from Riccardo?

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Will Riccardo behave nicer towards Stella from now on? Or will he just go back to his usual behavior of being an ass?