Dark Mafia Heir: Chapter 5

I pull up to the mansion, the steady drum of rain against the windshield drowning out the engine’s purr. The wrought-iron gates swing open as if they’ve been waiting for me.

My father’s estate looms ahead, bathed in the faint glow of the exterior lights. Normally, the sight of the tall, white building looming ahead brings me comfort, but not ever since that last meeting with my father.

There’s a voice at the back of my mind yelling at me to accept whatever fate I’m dealt, but I can’t just accept the idea of being sold off for the sake of business.

Harper believes Papa won’t trade me off like that, but she’s naïve and trusts him a little more than she should. Papa will do anything for power, including selling both of us off like we’re properties.

The rain intensifies as I step out of the car, cold droplets soaking my hair and running down my cheeks, mixing with the floral perfume I sprayed before leaving the school property.

I clutch my coat tighter around me, my heels sinking into the gravel with every hurried step to make it inside before I’m completely drenched in the rain.

The mansions stands before me, as imposing as ever, but the strange cars parked in front of it make my stomach churn with unease. Cars with plate numbers I haven’t seen before, and men who look like they would burn the house down in a heartbeat if it came to it. I can sense something is wrong.

I stop midway up the steps to the front door. It’s quiet—too quiet. Where are the guards?

Papa likes a quiet house so I don’t expect it to be buzzing at this hour, but there should be maids running around and guards doing their thing. Why is there no sign of life aside from the guards outside?

The rain keeps pouring, and the sound now feels ominous, like a warning I can’t quite decipher. My hand hovers over the doorknob, and I hesitate, heart racing in my chest for no reason I can explain.

Then I hear it.

Gunshots.

Three in rapid succession, muffled but unmistakable, from somewhere deep inside the house.

My breath catches in my throat, and I freeze, hand still on the doorknob. The sound seems to wobble through me, making my legs buckle. I should run. I should scream. I should call someone, anyone. But I’m frozen with fear.

I swallow hard, my head pounding as adrenaline pumps in my veins. Inhaling a sharp breath, I decide I can’t run. This is my home, and I need to make sure Harper and Papa are okay.

My hand shakes as I push the door open. The foyer is dimly lit, and everything looks exactly as it should—the marble floors gleam, the chandelier overhead sways gently from the draft of the open door behind me, but the air inside feels heavier, thicker.

Something isn’t right. The silence, the gunshot. Something’s terribly wrong.

I can’t hear anything now. Just the sound of my blood whooshing in my ears, louder than the rain outside. I step forward, my shoes making soft, wet sounds against the polished floor. My father’s study is down the hall, where the shots came from.

I don’t want to go there. I’m afraid of what I’ll find. Still, I have to go and find out what is happening.

I take another step.

The scent of rain mixes with something else. Something coppery.

My stomach twists as nausea creeps up my throat. My instincts are kicking against me, taking another step towards the study, but I force myself to keep moving, one foot in front of the other. I just need to see my papa. To know he’s okay. That everyone’s okay.

As I approach the study, the door is slightly ajar, light spilling out into the dark hallway. I reach for the handle, my fingers trembling, and push it open.

What I see makes my heart stop.

There are two dead bodies on the floor.

No—they’re not just dead bodies. Two of Papa’s men are lying lifelessly on the floor a pool of their own blood. There are holes in their heads, and one of them has his cold brown eyes pinned on me, as if he can see me through those sightless eyes.

My blood turns cold instantly, and a gasp leaves me when I see the gun pressed to my papa’s head.

All heads turn on me, but it’s only one that catches my attention because I recognize those dark brown eyes instantly. I would recognize that handsome face and sharp jawline even in my dream.

Standing in front of my father with a gun pressed to his head is the handsome stranger from the club the other night. The same man I considered my hero. The one who’d kept me and Harper safe.

His eyes glint with amusement as they meet mine. “Look who we have here,” he muses. “It’s darling Vivienne.”

“You’re…”

“We meet again,” he says calmly.

I stagger backward, too stunned to come up with any rational thought or even words.

He knew who I was, plays in a loop inside my head.

He’s not surprised to see me, which means he knew who I was. He approached me on purpose, and… my eyes sting with tears.

“Vivienne,” Papa whispers my name. “Leave this place. Leave. Now.”

“Why, Peter? You don’t want your precious daughter to witness your execution?” The man laughs manically. He’s nothing like the gentleman from the club that night.

It all makes sense now. Him pulling out a gun and all. Harper was right about him, but I’d been too horny to think right. Even now, as I look at him, all I can think of is the way he kissed me that night.

Damn, I’ve lost my mind. I’m sick!

“Vivienne, leave!” Papa yells this time.

“The girl stays,” the man insists. “I’ll put on a good show for her.”

My gaze bounces between him and my papa, and a storm of anger rages inside me—one that takes over my entire body and pushes me to do something extremely stupid.

Before I can stop myself, I’m halfway across the room and hitting him repeatedly, yelling at him to leave my father alone.

My fist slams into his back, his chest, and biceps. “Leave him alone, you sick bastard.” I slam my fists into him again and again.

But he doesn’t bulge. It’s almost as if I’m hitting him with a tiny feather. He catches my hand and presses me against the desk, then he lowers his face to mine.

He’s so close that his breath warms my skin, spreading heat all over my body. He presses a finger under my jaw, and his touch burns deeply inside me. My core clenches, and my nipples harden.

I close my eyes, begging my body not to act so foolishly. Who gets turned on in front of a dangerous man, with two dead bodies on the floor and her father being held at gunpoint? I really need to see a therapist.

“Open your eyes, gattina,” he whispers, his voice so dark and husky. His breath so hot against my skin.

I crack my eyes open and glare at him. I hope he can see how much I hate him through my gaze. “Don’t call me that!” I basically spit the words at him. “I am not your kitten, bastardo.”

He tilts my face to meet his, bringing his lips so dangerously close to mine. “But you will be soon enough.”

I try to kick him, but he moves in time, catching my leg and holding it up. He leans in and whispers in my ear, “Easy now, gattina. You don’t want Daddy dearest to find out what you’ve been up to, do you?”

I’m boiling with fury, but I know better than to act rashly. The fact that he is even playing these games with me means I won’t die, at least not today. But my papa, I don’t want him to get hurt. “Don’t kill my papa, please.”

He snorts in derision. “Don’t worry, gattina. Your papa won’t die today. He won’t die until he gives me all the information I need.”

He tosses me away like I’m a pile of trash and shifts his focus back to my father. “You have two weeks to tell me who killed Dante and why.”

My father lets out a shaky breath, but that is as much as he can react to threats. I’ve never seen him show fear, regret, or remorse all twenty-one years I’ve been alive. “Antonio⁠—”

“Play games with me, and I’ll wipe your entire family off the face of the earth,” Antonio continues. “I’ll start with your daughters first, and you’ll watch as I cut them apart, limb by limb, until there’s nothing left.”

My father’s throat moves as he swallows.

Antonio’s gaze meets mine and he grins a lopsided smile at me. “We’ll be meeting again, gattina. Take care of yourself until then.”

I want to yell that I hope we never meet again, but I don’t. He’s about to leave, and I don’t want to give him a reason to stay longer.

I don’t realize I’m holding my breath until he and his men leave. I turn to face my papa, who appears so calm, as if two of his men aren’t dead, and he didn’t have a gun pressed to his head just moments earlier.

“What the hell is happening, Papa? What do those men want?”

“When did I have to start explaining myself to you, Vivienne?” he asks in a condescending tone that makes anger swell in my guts.

“Since you put my life and Harper’s in danger. What if Harper was home and she saw all of this?” Luckily, my sister is spending the night in the college dormitory. She’d have passed out if she had come home with me to this gruesome sight. “I know those men wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t do something wrong? Who the hell is Dante, and what do you know about him?”

“Since we’re giving each other explanations,” he starts, his voice laced with annoyance. “How about you start by explaining where and how you met Antonio Mancini?”

I swallow to push down the lump in my throat.

“You can’t tell me, can you?” he sighs. “Rather than asking questions that won’t change anything, think of ways to help.”

“Help?” I scoff. “You created this mess, Papa. How is it my job to help you fix it?”

He slams his hand on the desk and shoots up to his feet. “Because our entire family depends on this, Vivienne. You, your sister, and I, all our lives are at stake here.”

The atmosphere crackles with tension.

As much as I’d like to nag him to death, he’s right. I can’t bear the thought of Harper getting hurt in the midst of all this. I have to figure a way out. Antonio is a psychopath. He’ll really hurt us if we don’t give him what he wants.

“How do I help?” I ask.

Papa draws in a breath and sits down on his chair. He steeples his fingers in front of him as he thinks. “An alliance is the only way out of this mess. We need strong allies to back us up.”

I feel a rush of urgency coursing through me. “How do we secure an alliance?”

“Through marriage.” My father gives me a sober look. “You’ll have to get married.”

I take a step back, a wry smile creeping on my face, disbelief lurking beneath the surface. “You’re joking.”

My father frowns. “I don’t have time to crack jokes with you, Vivienne.”

I shake my head as tears blur my vision. “I can’t get married. I have to finish school, get a job, and then live a normal life. That was the plan. You can’t take that away from me.”

“You don’t have a choice. Neither of us do. It’s either that or we’re food for warms and crows,” he says without a hint of remorse. “Think about yourself and your sister.”

The first streak of tears rolls down my face. Right, Harper. I can endure anything, but not Harper getting hurt. I’ll walk through fire to keep her safe if I have to. “When do I get married?”

“I’ll make plans for that,” Papa answers. “I’ll find a good match for you.”

I laugh. “Should I be grateful?”

My father lowers his head and heaves a sigh. “I’m sorry I failed you.”

“I’m not surprised, Papa. You’ve always failed me since I was a little girl. I don’t expect much from you.” I start to leave, stepping over the puddle of blood and the dead bodies I’d forgotten were still there. “Get someone to clean this mess before Harper comes home,” I say over my shoulder as I walk out of the door.

There’s so much to unpack. So much to cry and lose sleep over, but there’s only one thought that makes me down to the knees, and it’s not my sudden marriage.

It’s Antonio.

What the hell did he mean when he said we’ll be meeting again?