Page 2 of Tainted Ties

Amaretti, cannolis, sfogliatella, and frittelle covered the marble island. I licked my lips and reached over to grab a cannolo when a hand smacked my own. “Not for you,” Gaia scolded.

“If not for me, then who?” I asked, crossing my arms.

Gaia and I had never gotten along. Our relationship consisted of bickering back and forth till one of us stormed off. She was a grumpy old lady, but I’d be lying if I said arguing with her was for practical reasons and not for my amusement.

“For the guest,” she responded with her head held high. She always was confident in everything she did. I couldn’t blame her; the woman was the best cook in all of Italy.

“You work for me, which means you can’t deny me what I want.” I raised a dark brow challenging her.

She leaned back, letting out a vehement laugh. “I don’t work foryou; I work for yourpapà.”

I never was comfortable treating the staff as anything but family.

When I turned to leave, Gaia grabbed me by the wrist and placed a cannolo in my palm.

“Ah, she does have a heart,” I drawled playfully.

“Don’t push it,ragazza.”

Pulling out an island stool, I sat and ate the cream-filled pastry, savoring each bite. Gaia moved to the other side of the island and started rolling out dough.

“This cannolo is the best I’ve ever had… also, I didn’t know we were expecting guests tonight,” I said nonchalantly. I knew she wouldn’t give me details if I sounded too eager.

Gaia eyed me for a moment with a smirk. “Your manipulation skills need some work.”

I sighed, assuming my inquisition had failed, but when she focused back on her task, she continued, “It is a business party. Now, go away. I need to work.”

A business party, one that I wasn’t allowed to be a part of, undoubtedly.

My father never permitted me to be around the men who occasionally occupied our mansion and if they were anything like my father, then I was better off not attending.

A trickle of doubt washed over me as I walked out of the kitchen.

If my father was attending to business today, why did he want to see me?

Uneasiness formed in the pit of my stomach.

“Aurora,” a commanding voice interrupted my thoughts, rendering me still.

My father stood a few feet away from me, wearing a black coat and boots. His demeanor was cold and calculated, wearing his MafiaDonexpression, even with me.

“Papà.”

“Good, you’re already dressed for the occasion.” He glanced down at his watch. “We’re going to the stables today.”

My attire was simple, jeans, a white sweater, and knee-high black boots.

A heaviness settled onto my shoulders as he draped my black faux fur coat around me. “Grazie,” I thanked him with a small smile.

Maybe I misinterpreted the situation;maybethis would be a genuine moment for us. He knew my love for riding horses, andchoseto spend time at the stables today, showing me that he was trying.After all this time, he was trying, and I wondered what changed.

As we made our way across the snow-covered field, I wrapped my arms around my torso to block the cold wind.

Security guards were covering every inch of land we owned. It should’ve been unnerving seeing them armed, but given my childhood, it wasn’t.

The drive to the stables was quiet and short, the awkward tension slowly suffocating me.

I stole a glance at my father, who wore an aloof expression. His blue eyes were dark and distant, as if in deep thought. I swallowed hard and looked away. I wished he would show more interest when spending time with his only daughter.

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