CHAPTER TWO

Lyla( 23 years old)

I hated the sound of my father’s car.

“Lyla?”, my mama stood at the entrance of the door. I removed the air pods max I had on, my sweat coating my forehead.

Mama scowled.

“Cover that up. You don't want him to see.” She pointed at my tattoo.

I still remember when she saw it for the first time. The gasp followed by the rapid Russian insults under her breath. Mama only reverted to her mother's language when she was stressed.

“So he's back?”I asked, wiping my brows. Father has been gone for two weeks. The house was so peaceful then.

“Yeah and he wants to see you so be quick.”

I nodded and decided a quick shower wouldn't hurt. My father could wait for me.

The cold water stung like needles, probably because of how tense my body was. I loved being fit, even when my brothers said I would look too manly to chase my suitors away.

Suitors.

Being born a girl into the underworld was horrible. You had no say or right to your autonomy. Papa had locked me in the house for a year after my stunt, even now I wasn't let out of sight without my sister or my mother.

I wore the grey sweats I favoured and a crop shirt, packing my long raven hair in a messy bun and rubbing pink gloss on my lips.

The house was quiet as usual. Guards were everywhere but they were not too be seen or heard. My father just wanted us to have a quiet life. I suspected he just wanted to be able to hit my mother without anyone to stop him.

His office was open and two men sat in, their crisp suits and geled back hair with gold rings on their knuckles announced who they were to me.

My papa, Richard Russo was the head of one of the most feared Italian Mafia Families. He was crafty, had good business with other Italians.

“Hello Papa,” I greeted, placing a little kiss on his cheeks while studying the men that say in front of him.

“Lyla”, he replied. The first man was older, his grey eyes wrinkled at the corner and he was missing an eye. He didn't cover it up, the long scar stretching from his temple to his cheek. The second man, a younger much more handsome version of the old man smirked at me.

“Hello sirs.” I said. They didn't respond to me but I suppose it wasn't needed. “Papa,you wanted to see me?” I inquired.

“Yes. In two weeks, you'll be getting married to the Donovan family.”

So it has come. The day my father decided to marry me out. Honestly, I thought it would be immediately after I was 21 years, but I guess two years of spinsterhood wasn't so bad.

“Okay papa.”

“Yes,” he continued. “You'll be meeting your husband on your wedding day. This is his uncle and brother.”

The younger man stood up. “A pleasure.” He stretched his hand out. “Likewise Sir” I replied.

I just hoped my new husband would be someone I could control. At least to the point of giving me my freedom. I would have his children but yeah, other than that No love in the marriage.

I left my father's office and ran into my mother in the hallway. “I'm getting married mama.” I informed her.

“No, No.”, the cry came from upstairs. Silvia. “You can't get married now.”

Tears grew in her eyes and I hugged my sister. She barely shows affection and how she was reacting today broke my heart.

“I need you. Who will protect mama?”

My mother snickered. “I don't need protection child. I am fine.”

My sister turned to my mother angrily, “I cannot fight papa when he's hitting you. He'll kill us one day”

I let out a little sob and hugged her tighter. “Baby, you can come stay with me. I promise I'll beg papa”.

“I don't want you to go.” She sniffled.

“Well, We knew this day was coming.”, my mother says, not helping the situation. “Silvia leave us alone.”

Silvia nods and went into her room.

“How long?”

“Two weeks,” I replied.

“Shit. Your fucking papa,” my mama cursed angrily.

“Well, we need to get you ready. A bride. You'll bee radiant.”

I didn't really care for that. “What do you know about the Donovan family?”

Mama stopped in her tracks. “That's who he’s marrying you to?”

“Yes mama.”

“Why for fuck sake? They beat their women too.”

The breath I had been holding dropped to my tummy, causing a bitter taste in my mouth. That has been my fear. “How are you sure?”

“Women talk, Lyla. Now that you would be a made woman, you'll learn a lot more about the temper of men.”

Mama left me in the hallway, and I stood listening to the raised voices from my father's office. I would not be beaten by a man ever.

I refuse to be my mother.