CHAPTER FOUR.

CHAPTER FOUR.

Badluck Is Somehow Glued To Me.

             (Anthonia Pov.)

“Shit shit..” I mutter, back pressed against the door.

The italian mafia? Really flo?

I've worked my ass off in covering my tracks.. even went as far as declaring flo a nonexistent person and going by anthonia, now I might have walked into my death.

How does one go from running from the Irish mafia straight to another mafia? I thought there were probably some secret agency or gang.

And now i’ve gotten on  that all black fine ass species nerve, for all i know he’s the don or something.

They are definitely going to kill me once they find out the truth. Now I have to find a way to prove myself useful to them.

Besides, if this is the guest bedroom, then it wouldn't hurt to enjoy it a little. A king-size bed dominates the space in the center and vast floor to ceiling windows make the room bright and airy.

There is a huge TV on the wall and a small bookcase complete with full

shelves of books. I kick off my sneakers and realize the floor is warm to the

touch. Damn, they must have underfloor heating. This place is fancy!

Throwing my backpack onto the bed, I can’t help but smile. I could get

used to living in a place like this. Shaking my head, I catch myself before I get too comfortable with that thought. There is no getting used to a place

like this for me. No getting used to anywhere. It’s been that way for as long as I can remember, and I can’t imagine a time when it will ever be any

different.

It's been six years since I saw my mom lifeless after another of my father's drunk tantrums, the bastard had actually strangled her to death and walked away like it was nothing.

Then and there I knew I had to leave, else I just might be next.

A soft knock at the door makes me jump. “Come in,” I say, expecting one of the hot men. But it’s not one of them who pops their head inside the

room. It’s a woman who looks to be in her late thirties, with dark curly hair.

“Anthonia?” she asks.

“Yes,” I reply, sitting properly.

She steps inside the room carrying a medical bag. “I’m Dr. Adams,” she says with a smile. “But you can call me Lisa.”

“Oh? Hey, Lisa,” I blink at her.

“Raffaele called me and asked me to check you over. Make sure you’re okay.”

“Okay,” I say with a frown. This is either the highest level of consideration in recruitment training, or there is a hidden agenda here.

Lisa walks into the room and places her medical bag on the bed beside me.

“How are you feeling?” she asks.

“Is that a trick question?” I reply.

“Raffaele and his brothers will look after you. I know what they are, but they are good men,” she says as she places her stethoscope in her ears.

“They just want to make sure you are fit and well and don’t need any medical treatment.”

Brothers huh. Interesting. 

“So, you know the brothers well, then?” I grin at her.

“I’m their physician,” she replies with a knowing smile. “Nothing more.”

Dr. Lisa gives me a thorough medical check up, I figure she’s about done when she pulls a huge needle from her bag.

“What the hell is that for?” I ask. “I hate needles.”

“To make sure you don’t have illnesses that the brothers need to be aware of.”

“Such as?”

“Blood-borne diseases you could infect them with should you ever cut yourself, for instance. STIs. And also, I’ll do a pregnancy test too.”

“Jesus!” I hiss as I hold out my arm. “What are they planning on doing with me?” I attempt a joke, but my insides are churning.

“It’s just a precaution, I assure you,” she replies.

I smile at her and nod.