5

"Running home so soon? What about your whole speech about dying for your best friend?" Lorenzo smirked, leaning against his car, and I rolled my eyes.

"I'm not running home; Clara is going with me. We just want to pick up the important things from our house, like our clothes and stuff, and don't blame us; you didn't give us the chance to do so when you kidnapped us yesterday." I said.

"Like I would let you walk around my house in those rags you own and ruin my reputation." He scoffed, pulling out a black card from his pocket and holding it to Clara. "Get yourselves anything you want."

"We don't want your money." Clara argued. "Our old clothes—"

"Are you trying to insult our family name, Clara? You're a Raimondo, and you'll dress like one." He glared at her, and she flinched.

"Yes, sir," she whispered and took the card from him, but I quickly snatched it.

"One, don't be rude to her. And two, if you're not going to let us take our things, then we aren't going to use the card." I said and held it to him.

"What are you doing? Just accept it." Clara whispered and tried to take the card back.

"No," I held it out of her reach and glared back at him. "There are important things we have that even money can't buy, so it's either we embarrass you by being in the same clothes for the next thirty days, or you let us pick our stuff, and we'll go shopping? Your choice because I'm good with both."

"Gwen!" Clara hissed and glared at me.

"It's cute that you think you can threaten me. Like a newborn kitten baring its fang at a lion." He laughed and shook his head. "But, fine. Have it your way. Marco will drive you anywhere."

"Thank you." Clara breathed and tried to drag me away from him, but I didn't bulge.

"I know my threat worked, but you're just too proud to say so." I snickered as I stuffed the card into my pocket, and Clara let out a small frustrated groan. "You aren't going to charge what I spent on my pay or the five million, right?"

"No, take this as a gift from me to you. A way of making you happy before I kill you, like the way a farmer fattens a pig before slaughter." He replied.

"Sure, whatever feeds your ego." I scoffed and smiled. "You should be worried, though; we're going to empty the entire card and probably run you into debt."

"You can try." He laughed.

"She's just joking; we won't. We'll be out of your hair now. Have a nice day. Do whatever dons do best. Let's go, Gwen!" Clara blabbered and yanked me so hard that I had to follow her.

"I swear you're going to get yourself killed before the end of your bet." She grumbled.

"You're meeting Silvano tomorrow, Clara. Have that in mind when shopping." Lorenzo yelled, and she stopped dead in her tracks.

"Ok." She gritted through her teeth and continued pulling me along.

"Who's Silvano?" I asked immediately after we were out of earshot of Lorenzo.

"My betrothed." She replied, and I stopped.

"You have a betrothed? Why didn't you tell me? And how?" I asked, crossing my hand over my chest.

"Because I'm not proud that I have to be forced into marriage." She sighed and tapped the tip of her foot on the ground. "My father arranged my marriage with a rival Don's son some years before he died, you know, for peace's sake. That's why I wanted to run away that time. I can't marry a man I barely know just so some blood-hungry men won't kill themselves. And worse, he's a soon-to-be don."

"And you expected me to wave you good-bye when you had that kind of responsibility hanging on your neck? Why would they sell you off like merchandise anyway? This isn't the nineteenth century where women didn't have rights! That's barbaric! I'm going to give Lorenzo—"

"Don't!" She yelled and slapped her hand over my mouth. "You've already made a deal about escaping, right? We should focus on that one. If we escape, I won't have to marry Silvano. Please don't confront him; you might escalate the situation. Do you understand?"

I nodded, and she took her hand off my mouth.

"But it still doesn't make it fair—"

"I can't believe I have to babysit two grown-*ss women today!" Marco scowled as he stormed to Clara and me.

"I can't believe we have to spend our day with him." I whispered to Clara, and he glared at me.

"Better watch yourself, b*tch." He snarled, jabbing his finger into my shoulder. "You think you're so smart? The boss will get bored of you soon and stop protecting you. And when he looks away, I'll make your life f*cking hell."

"Sure. Whatever." I shrugged, and his nose flared, anger glowing in his eyes.

'Did he seriously think I was going to tremble in my boots and cry like a wittle baby? Aww, what delulu land was he from?' I stifled my laughter.

"B*tch! I'll—"

"Enough, Marco!" Clara yelled, standing in front of me with her hand on her hip. His fist stopped just a few inches away from her face. "I might not have as much authority as my uncle, but I am my father's daughter. You know what will happen when you cross a Raimondo."

Marco's eyes flickered from her to me and back; he gritted his teeth and stormed off.

"And don't forget you'll be taking us out later. We'll be ready in two hours." She yelled.

"That was badass." I grinned, throwing my arm over her shoulder. "Are you sure you don't like this mafia life a teensy, tiny bit? You were made for it."

"Not funny." She gave me a sour look.

"But you did look so badass. I never knew you could be so commanding."

"I might not like the lifestyle my family has, but I am my father's daughter." She boasted and sighed. "And please don't irritate Marco. He has always had anger issues; he could just snap and hurt you despite the punishment he'll get."

"Well, tell him to stay on his own. He started it. I didn't even do anything, yet he attacked me." I pouted.

"I know, but avoid him, please, and don't make him angry if you accidentally bump into him."

"Don't worry, I won't hurt his fragile ego anymore, and you won't have to see your betrothed tomorrow."

"Why?" She blinked, and I grinned.

"We'll be out of this city today."