Hysterical

Sophia rifled through her closet, throwing every cloth she came in contact with over her head, screaming.

It was the morning of her father’s funeral. Her hands wouldn’t stop trembling as she struggled to find a cloth to wear.

She tried taking a deep breath, but it caught somewhere in her throat. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw her father’s bloody face.

Choking on his blood

His eyelids closing.

Not a single tear escaped her eyes.

She stared blankly at her reflection through the mirror, standing motionless in nothing but her bra and panties.

A maid had come to inform her she was to take her bath and dress up; then the master was going to come to her, and she scoffed at that word.

Master?

The sound of the room door opening and closing, then the closet door alerted her someone came into her room. The air shifted. She didn’t need to turn to know he was there.

She continued searching through a shoe rack before turning to smile up at him.

“I was really waiting for you, master,” she sneered and ambled her way toward him.

Her hand came up to his jaw, and he squared it, turning his gaze upwards.

“You know I’m a virgin," she whispered and kissed his jaw.

His hands folded behind his back. He didn’t touch her as she touched him.

She stood on her toes and kissed him on his lips, which was the last straw; Luca pushed her backwards and released a long-suppressed breath.

“We only have two hours to leave before your father’s funeral. Get ready," he said and turned to leave, but she held his arm.

Her brown eyes were shimmering.

“What?” he growled, staring down at his arm in her hold.

She released his arm and reached behind her back to unclasp her bra, and it fell to the floor, her breast springing free.

“Do it."

She spread her arms wide walking towards him, and he took a step back.

“I’m a virgin. I know why you’re keeping me here, and I know what you will do after you’re finished with me."

She fell to her knees.

“I don’t want to stay here after my father’s funeral. I don’t know how to stay close to his killer. Kill me."

Sophia lifted her head up to him, and their eyes locked.

Greyish green and brown.

Luca saw her determination, defiance, and what he couldn’t place his finger on.

“Or I will kill myself."

Her voice low, a tear slipped down her cheek as she stood up and crossed the closet to pick up a black chiffon dress.

**

“When we step out of this car, please don’t create a scene. Maybe then I will consider letting you go after the funeral."

Luca said, his voice imploring with his fingers twitching on his lap.

Right now they were inside the car at the location of where they would bury her father.

After the little drama she’d pulled inside her closet, he left and assigned a maid who would look after her so she wouldn't act rashly.

He was scared.

He knew that madness and determination were an evil combination, and what the outcome could be was something he wasn’t ready to find out.

As much as he didn’t know if he should let her go, he just couldn't. The enemies were still out there.

He didn’t want to betray Peter even as the traitor he was. The man was a good man.

Sophia flipped her hair over her shoulder, nibbling on her lower lip, her eyes closed for a second before she popped it and faced him.

“Can I get my phone today?”

Luca clenched his fist, gritting his molars and tightly smiling at her.

"Yes, you can."

She beamed, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Thank you."

He squinted his eyes at her.

He didn’t know what she was playing at, and she wasn’t even crying for someone who’d fainted the day her father died, blaming and shouting, cursing at him for killing him.

“Did you hear what I said? You…”

Someone knocked on the window, interrupting them.

"Sir, everything is ready."

Luca glanced back at her, and she stared up at him grinning, and he sighed, running his fingers through his hair.

He left the car, going over to her side to open the door

“Come on, let’s go."

He seized her hand and squeezed it.

The funeral and everything went smoothly until Luca handed Sophia a flower to throw into her father’s grave.

No tears.

Only numbness as her eyes gazed vacantly at the closed coffin. She wasn’t given the chance to look at him one last time.

Letting her see him would bring back things he was trying to bury.

She stood at the edge and threw the flower into the grave. Before anyone could react, she threw herself into the open grave.

“Sophia!!”

Luca rushed to her but didn’t catch her as she’d already fallen in. He slowly entered the grave and pulled her away from the coffin.

He carried her in his arms as she thrashed against him, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Shh," he cooed, comforting her as they stepped out. He gave signs to his consigliere to finish up while they left.

****

“You killed my father."

Sophia shoulders shook with sobs as she cried into his chest, pounding it with her hands.

“Why? He was the only thing I had. We were about to go for a vacation, and you killed him. You killed him."

Luca kissed her hair and got into the car, shifting her to sit astride him. He didn’t know what to do or explain. Everything was complicated.

“It will be fine. I will let you go. Everything will be fine."

He whispered close to her ear and kissed her hair.

Hearing that, Sophia slowly lifted her tear-streaked face from his chest.

“You will?” She asked.

He hummed in acquiescence, kissing her hair again, which she brushed away. He saw the gesture and leaned back into the seat. Not letting it get to him.

“But after I know you won’t act rashly and stupidly."

Like killing yourself.

The car sped down the busy streets of downtown New York. Sophia leaned against him, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“When?”

“A month. After one month, I know everything is okay and your father’s enemies won’t be on your tail. You will be free to leave and never come back if you wish not to."

He closed his eyes as she bounced on him. He groaned, letting out a sigh, and peered at her before relaxing back.

She was everything he’d been fighting all through his life against. He didn’t know why he couldn’t treat her like he would do every traitor’s daughter.

Women were never harmed, but they were taken to his clubs and casinos to work for the rest of their lives.

They would work for the mafia, and the sons would be under strict supervision while being foot soldiers.

It was easy. Send her off to one of his clubs and forget everything that ever happened.

But that’s the problem, since he laid his eyes on her after coming back from Italy two years ago on her eighteenth birthday.

It’s been a whirlwind of distraught emotions that clogged his head and chest like a disease.

He stood by the side and never did anything or once propose a marriage or try to stop the other capos from proposing marriage to one of his trusted and loyal underboss’s daughter’s hand.

He didn’t care until that day and now.

He was being careless and reckless in his choices,, and there was nothing to do about it, not like he would like to do anything.