Page 4 of Sinful Daughter (Dark Mafia Sins 2)

Romeo’s eyes slide to me, and he scoffs before a trail of curse words follow his leaving. Romeo is in the same grade as Gia. I heard that once he turns eighteen, he’ll be following in his family’s footsteps. The same family business that tries to putusout of business every chance they get.

Pauly does his typical chuckle. “Relax, Aria.” He playfully bumps my shoulder, and I force a smile.

“I am.”I’m not. My shoulders hurt from how tense they are.

Back in the room, my fingers have a light tremble when I pour the drinks. The guy in white hasn’t looked at me once; it’s like he’s watching everyone’s moves.

As the morning comes closer, it’s harder to keep my eyes open. Luna still looks fresh and ready to conquer the world.

“Take a nap in the bedroom,” Pauly whispers as he comes up to me.

I shake my head. If I go nap, I’m going to let my sister down.

“Luna used to nap her first few times.”

I shake my head again.

“Go, I’ll cover for you.”

My eyes keep closing on their own. “Thank you.” I get up and go into the bedroom that’s not in use.

Before I lie down, my eyes are already closed, and I swear I’m asleep falling into bed.

I wake up to an altercation and hear crashes and hollers from the poker room. My heart leaps the same moment I jump out of bed. A deep painful ring surges through my ears from the sudden movement. My door opens and shuts, and I see it’s the guy in the white shirt.

“Oh fuck,” he says. I must look at him wide-eyed. He goes to the window, trying to open it, but it doesn’t move.

A gunshot rings through, and I immediately fall to my knees.

“Move behind the bed.” He passes me and hides. I can hear a bullet break through the walls and crouch down as tiny as I can while shuffling toward the unknown man. “You have any guns hidden in here?”

I shake my head at his question. It’s not like I would know anyway.

He brings his gun out and shoots the window three times before busting it out with his hand.

“Get out of here. I’ll cover you before I leave.”

CHAPTER 3

It’s rare myfather summons me to his office. Our household has been tense the last few days. Luca has been at his gun range most of the time, his eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep. He walks around like he’s holding the world on his shoulders, and I want to tell him he has us to lean on. But it’s not how our family works. The men hold everything in, while we women are forced to keep our foundations from cracking under the weight of our lifestyle.

My feet pad down the hall, silent on the plush red carpet. There’s not a single step where the house creaks with my movement. On the hallway walls hang pictures of our house through the last one hundred years along with famous ancestors. In the middle of them is our family picture. It’s a shrine to everything Rossi.

The weight of my father wanting to speak to me is held on my shoulders, similar to my brother. Unlike him, I’m not afraid to lean on my parents or sisters for help. This is why my father requesting me is usually no big deal. With each step, I shake out my hands, convincing myself I’m overreacting. I shouldn’t worry about my father needing to talk to me. Whatever he will say will be in the best interest of the family and me. The formal invitation to his office is nothing. He’s a busy man, and this is the most logical place for me to come. This is his space where the men make the decisions, and one day I’ll advise him on legal issues. At the back of my mind, there is a slight pecking reminder I’ve never been personally invited before. I remember playing in here as a child, but once I grew up, I had no reason to visit. I’m positive whatever he wants to say is something unimportant my father forgot to mention at dinner.

His door is open a crack, and I push it forward, revealing my father smoking a cigar. He has lines around his mouth and eyes from years of smoking and dealing with the family business. He never smokes in the house unless he’s stressed. I think back to the last couple of days, and the poker game stays in the forefront of my mind. No matter how hard I try to keep my heart steady, it pumps faster from the unknown.

“Aria.” His voice is powerful, and he gestures for me to take a seat.

My legs want to shake, but I tense all my muscles to hold still. My father may be the don of the Rossi family, and his wrath is legendary for the outside world. But behind closed doors, he is the kindest father, one who read me bedtime stories until I was eight years old. He was the one who would take me to school on the first day, no matter what was on his books for the day. He has a soft spot for his children, especially his daughters.

He pulls in a long breath, his cigar glowing red, a portion of it burning black before he places it into his crystal dish.

“Aria.” The way he says my name causes a shiver to zip down my spine. “You’re twenty-four years old. It’s time you pick a husband.”

I watch in confusion as my father opens his drawer and pulls out six different pictures. Each picture is of a different man. He lifts the first one, showing a man named Marco Caldera. I went to school with him, and he’s helped my father with some accounting issues before. He has a pleasant smile. Then my father reads his traits that are printed on the back. He summarizes where he ranks, money he makes, how he shows kindness, to the history of past girlfriends. I’m too shocked to say a word. Arranged marriages aren’t uncommon in our world, but I never thought I would have one.

Since the day my father brought home Luca as an adopted son, I thought stuff like this didn’t matter anymore. As the years went on, Luca was named heir, and I thought that meant I could be my own person, living life how I saw fit—with parameters of course.

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