Page 143 of Heartless Mafia Prince

He laughed. “I love sharing a birthday with my special girl.”

My lips tightened. “Dad, don’t change the subject. Rocco received his breakdown training.” I held my head high. “You and I can carry out my training or I’ll go to grandfather.”

Anger flicked in his eyes. Dad leaned forward. “Don’t ever go to him for shit. Do you hear me? You are my child. My blood.” He straightened his tie and ran a hand along his shiny short, curly brown hair.

“There was a time when he didn’t want you.”

“I know before I was born.”

“Ryah, you have no idea what your mother and I went through to make sure you were born.”

Bile rose in my throat. My skin felt like it was on fire.

“You never told me that.”

The man who treated me like a rare doll wanted to kill me and my mother. It made sense why dad never allowed me to go over to the house without him after grandmother Eloisa died. She loved me. Said she was so happy I came into her life. Grandmother struggled to give birth to dad. The doctor didn’t know if he or she’d survive the birth. I could do no wrong in her eyes. I missed her every day.

“Why are you telling me this now?”

“You’ll be an adult soon. I want you to make wise choices. Don’t trust him. Ever. You and I will complete the training.”

A huge smile tugged at the ends of my lips. “Thanks, Daddy.”

I remembered the dungeon was dad’s personal space. He used it to kill those who wronged him. Or, stole from the Contis. The first time I’d been to the dungeon, I was eleven. Grandmother hadn’t been dead six months. After church one spring afternoon, dad dropped Rosetta off at the house. Fifteen minutes later, we drove into a warehouse. The truck came to a stop.

“Ryah, come on.”

I scooted across the seat in my pretty yellow dress. He took my hand in his and led me to an office. Dad peeled back the carpet. He leaned over and pressed his finger against the tiny box beside a large door. The door slid open, and a staircase came into view. Dad glanced over his shoulder. “Bring him downstairs.”

Dad stood and held my hand. “Come on, Ryah.”

We walked down the stairs and the lights popped on. Bleach swept up my nostrils. It smelled clean. Long, shiny knives dangled from the ceiling around the large room.

My eyes widened. “Wow.”

There were three steel tables with restraints attached throughout. I was indeed my father’s child. I was in awe of the place.

There was a meat grinder to the right and a long sink along the wall to the left. Leather aprons hung on a hook beside the staircase. A chill swept through my body. What was the temperature? On zero?

“Daddy, what is this place?”

“It’s a special place. I use it to punish bad guys.” He smiled.

Dad’s guards brought a man down the steps. His hands were tied behind his back. A burlap sack hid his face. I heard his muffled cries.

Dad snatched off the sack, and a slick grin fell across his lips. The man’s bloody face came into view. Blood trickled from his busted lip. His entire face was black and blue. It looked like his face met the concrete several times.

Dad’s eyes turned a dark shade of green. “Ryah, remember Clarence’s face. This is the man who killed your grandmother.”

Blood was caked in his black hair. The man’s eyes grew in size, and he shook his head. “No,” he cried against the gag.

My fists slammed into the man’s stomach over and over again. Dad didn’t stop me. He let me release my anger.

“You fucking murderer. You killed my grandmother,” I cried.

Shoulders slumped, I staggered back, chest heaving. Dad wrapped his arms around me. “That’s why I brought you here. She loved me and you so much. I wanted you to watch the asshole pay for his sins.”

He held me at arm’s length. “Have a seat, Ryah.” Dad slipped out of his jacket.

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