Page 35 of Radical Daddy

“It’s in the middle of the night,” she protested. “Can’t it wait until morning?”

“If you’re not out of this door in five minutes, I’m coming in. Do as you are told.”

Chiara’s shoulders dropped. “Okay, I’ll be down. You can go.”

“Don’t make me come back, little chit. I’m not in a good mood,” Bulldog warned.

She waited for the sound of his footsteps to fade as he walked away. After a moment’s delay, she got up and dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a T-shirt with white sneakers. It was unlikely Salvitore would even notice what she was wearing, as his gaze was always locked on the sparkling red ruby ring he had given her on the night of the clandestine meeting with Brinkman. According to him, it represented a symbolic acceptance of her familial position. She hated the piece of jewelry as much as she did the man who gave it to her. It was ostentatious and made her feel like a fraud.

“Oh, Mom, I miss you so much,” she whimpered. For her fifteenth birthday, Chiara’s adoptive mother had given her a white gold bracelet, with fifteen charms that represented some of Chiara’s favorite things. Tears filled her eyes as she brushed her fingers over her wrist. It wasn’t there. Nothing of her old life existed anymore. The day she arrived on this island, was the day Salvitore tore everything she had of value from her old life from her, even the treasured bracelet.

“Stop your sniffling, Chiara Sanchigo,” she sneered the name. “You know it will achieve nothing!”

Angrily, she wiped off the tears and tried to find comfort in the one item that remained. Her finger circled the spot through the yoga pants. A ring of small roses tattooed on her hip, but its significance was forever gone—she was her parents’ little rosebud no more. She shook the sorrow away as she opened the door. Being angry helped to chase it away, for a time at least.

In the dim light of the hallway, she looked up into the vacant eyes of one of Sanchigo’s minions. From experience, she knew there was little hope of having a conversation with him.

“Where to?” She sounded lethargic.

He raised his burly arm and indicated the staircase. They walked in silence while she braced herself for a confrontation, knowing it wouldn’t end well, it never did, especially not at this time of night.

By the time her escort stopped in front of an opulent carved wooden door and announced her arrival, her hands trembled inside her pockets. A cold sweat broke out all over her body. With a formal bow, the guard stepped aside and opened the door.

Chiara hesitated at the threshold. She curled her hands tighter inside her pockets until her nails bit into the tender flesh of her palms. Like always, when she was about to face the mighty mafia don, her confidence left her.

“Father,” her voice faltered as Sanchigo raised his head, taking stock of her trembling limbs before dismissing the guard.

“Bulldog tells me you were slacking in your training this afternoon.”

Chiara’s jaw went slack, but she didn’t bother defending herself. Even the strongest grown man would have become weary. After two hours of exercise, she was about to pass out from fatigue. Still, it hadn’t been the end. Bulldog forced another hour of knife training on her. Gruelingly wielding a knife that she had to fight like a lunatic to keep from being cut.

She shivered under the Don’s intense scrutiny but refused to lower her gaze. It was the one thing she had learned early on, not to give him reasons to belittle her.

“Come,” he said as he got up and headed out the door. Chiara’s heart sank as he guided her toward the training room in the basement.

Her legs grew heavier with every step. By the time he swung the door open and stood aside to allow her entry, she struggled to drag her feet inside. Bulldog was already there, waiting in the center of the room with his large hunting knife clutched in his huge paw.

“This will be the last training session for today,” the Don said as his unfeeling gaze raked her face.

“Let’s get started, little chit.” Bulldog waved the knife at her.

“NO,” she said with a shudder. “I’m tired. My muscles are sore. I can’t— Oww!” Her protest ended in a scream as Sanchigo backhanded her.

“You will do as you’re told. Now either take that knife on the table or Bulldog will start cutting that pretty little face of yours.”

Stunned, Chiara reached for the blade, then stopped. She looked up at Sanchigo through tear-filled eyes.

“Please, Father. I’m too tired,” she pleaded, hoping he’d see reason, although his expression didn’t bode well. Her head was shaking, desperately fighting the panic that was clawing at her mind. As tired as she was, it was a given that she wouldn’t be able to ward Bulldog off. She was sure to get hurt tonight, one way or another.

“Now, Chiara. Here and now!”

For the first time, she felt pure hate flow through her veins. Her eyes snapped at him, flashing with emotion. “What kind of monster forces his child to do this?”

His eyes grew dark with irritation. “Because you are now MY child, you will do as I say. The days of manipulating your parents are over. Big eyes and tears don’t work on me. The only way you will earn my respect is by proving you have earned the name Sanchigo.”

She stepped up and picked up the knife before facing Bulldog, “Don’t cut me.” Her eyes pleaded for his mercy.

The door opened, and Salvitore welcomed someone else to the room. She caught the eye of the newcomer—a tall black male. He wasn’t one of the usual guards and was a strong, well-built, handsome young man. Her eyes caught the cold blue eyes of her father, which were locked onto hers, making a wave of shock spread throughout her body.

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