Page 88 of Inherting the Mafia

My mother sighed before snapping her fingers. A maid hurried into the room, a suit bag in her hands. She carefully laid it over the chair next to the door before leaving the room.

"I want you to get cleaned up and changed into this tuxedo," my mother stated. "We're leaving in an hour."

"To where?" I asked out of curiosity since I hadn't been allowed to leave my room for a week.

"Does it matter?" my mother snapped. "Just do what I said. And I expect you to be on your best behavior tonight. If you bring shame to this family, your father will be very cross with you."

Yeah, that was never good.

I just wasn't sure I cared anymore.

"No, I won't go."

God, it felt so good to say that.

"You will do what you are told."

I shook my head. "I'm done listening to you. You've never cared about what I wanted or what I think. So, why should I care about you say?"

My mother's eyes narrowed. It wasn't a good look on her. Isabella Rossi had spent a lot of my father's money to retain her good looks, and I had to admit, it worked. She didn't look a day over thirty, which was about fifteen years younger than she actually was.

She snapped her fingers.

I jolted and leapt up when two guards rushed into the room and right for me, darting toward the bathroom. They caught me just as I grabbed the door handle.

I cried out as I was dragged down to the floor and pinned there by a massive weight on my back, legs, and arms. The only thing I could move was my head.

And I wished I hadn't when I saw my mother walking toward me with a syringe in her hand.

"You've only brought this on yourself, Nicolas."

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