4| New Home.

ALMA

I opened my eyes, only to shut them again due to the blinding lights that hit them. I tried to open them again, this time slowly, until my eyes adjusted to the light in the room. My head ached so much it felt like it was going to explode.

Looking around, I realized this wasn’t my room. Where was I?

As I tried to stand up, I realized there was a cannula attached to my hand. As I ripped it off, memories of what had happened came rushing back, and my chest tightened. My insides twisted, chills traveling through my body.

I was still at Lazzaro Visconti’s manor, and my sister was still dead. Tears poured out of my eyes as the memories of how I had watched my sister die in cold blood replayed in my head over and over again.

“Zita...” My voice was barely audible as I clutched my chest, the pain slicing through my heart unbearable.

My sister was gone. I wished it was all just a bad dream, but...

The sound of the door opening snapped me out of my thoughts, and I looked up to see one of the maids coming in. She stopped mid-step when she saw me and gasped.

“I’ll get the doctor,” she said quickly, turning to leave.

“That won’t be necessary,” I called after her as I tried to stand up. But the banging headache hit me again, and I groaned in pain.

I struggled to stand up regardless and approached the door. “I am leaving,” I added.

“What? No. You can’t leave yet. I’ll get the doctor,” she insisted.

She tried to block my way, but I used the remaining strength in me to push her until she crashed to the floor.

I continued on my way, staggering, but I barely got to the door when a man walked in, his gaze holding the darkness all mafia men shared. He first glanced at the maid who was still on the floor before looking at me.

“You just woke up. You shouldn’t be walking around yet.” His voice held no emotion as he spoke.

“I am not staying here. I am going home,” I said. I wasn’t even asking. Lazzaro wasn’t supposed to bring me here in the first place. And I promised with everything in me to avenge my sister’s death. But for now, I had to go back home, to what was left of my family.

He shook his head. “I’m afraid you can’t go home yet.”

“Why?” I spat.

“The boss’s words,” he said.

“To hell with your fucking boss!” I yelled and winced immediately as pain shot through my head. I had forgotten about the headache.

He observed me, his brows furrowing. “You should lie down. I’ll get the doctor.”

“What I want to do is go home,” I groaned as I tried to push past him, but he wasn’t budging.

I tried with all my strength, but he just stood there, staring at me as though I was a crazy person.

Before I could say another word, the devil himself suddenly appeared behind him, and upon noticing his presence, the man stepped aside.

“You are awake,” he said, looking at me.

“Yes. And ready to go home,” I fired.

“Hmm,” he breathed, then faced the other man. “Mario. The doctor should be somewhere within the building. Get him.”

Mario nodded and left immediately.

“Alma,” he called and nodded towards the bed. “Now.”

“No!” I retorted firmly. “I am going home.”

A hard frown masked his face. “Do not mistake me for someone you can disrespect!”

Without another word, he lifted me off my feet and carried me in his arms, bridal style. He walked to the bed and carefully placed me on it.

Defiantly, I tried to stand up, but he pushed me back. “Do not provoke me, Alma!”

The door pushed open, and an older man in a suit came in, alongside Mario. He was the doctor, and Lazzaro allowed him to observe me before ordering him and Mario to leave.

“What do you want from me?” I fired at him once we were alone in the room.

He suddenly leaned closer, his fingers grazing my exposed collarbones. My breath hitched at his touch, a mixture of desire and revulsion cruising through my body. I felt disgusted in myself for reacting to his touch.

He leaned even closer and his warm lips met with my neck. “Everything.”

Sparks jolted through my body, and as desire formed in the pit of my stomach, so did irritation float through my veins. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with me?

“I need to go home. Please,” my voice cracked as I pleaded.

“That is not your home anymore.”

My body went cold as I tried to process his words, “What do you mean?”

“You are going to become my bride, Alma,” he muttered as his tongue grazed the skin on my neck.

I swallowed hard to push down the desire lodged in my throat. “My father would never agree to such.”

“Oh, yes, he would.” He looked me dead in the eyes, “and he has.”

He pressed a last warm kiss to my cheek before he suddenly jumped off me and left the room, leaving me to process what he had just told me.

I blinked repeatedly. He had to be lying. There was no way my father would agree to marry me off to his decade-long enemy. My brother and sister’s murderer.

He probably didn’t know that I was here. I had to find a way to escape this place before he forcefully had his way with me. I’d rather die than marry him.

Without further hesitation, I ran to the window and looked over it to see how far above the ground I was. Dread washed through me when I realized that I was on the third floor. It wouldn’t be easy, but jumping down from the third floor wasn’t impossible, and I was trying my damn luck!