Dark Blood: A Mafia Hitman Romance

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opyright
© 2016 by Isabella Starling

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I
live a privileged life
.

The life of a princess.

Except my daddy, the king, isn’t a kind and gentle ruler. He is the head of the Da Costa crime family, and if someone hurt me, he’d have them killed and gone without a trace – something which he likes to remind me of as often as possible.

I sigh and lean my head against the window of the car. I didn’t ask for this life. I never wanted to be the sheltered princess living in a tower, inaccessible to anyone but immediate family. But it’s the life my daddy chose for me, and I didn’t get a say.

“You alright back there, Miss Bianca?” my bodyguard asks me gruffly, and I mumble something in response. Used to my non-verbal replies, he grunts. “We’ll be there soon enough.”

I remember why I’m meeting my father today, and my heart constricts with pain.

My brother died two days ago. Killed in cold blood by a hitman. If I ever find the man who did this to my family, I will claw his eyes out. No one messes with the Da Costas.

My daddy has been heartbroken ever since his son died, and deep down I know what today’s conversation will be about.

My brother, Lorenzo, was daddy’s only remaining son. He was my half-brother, really. We shared a dad, but not a mother. I’m an illegitimate child, though that’s a story for another day.

“Parking in front now,” my bodyguard says into his mobile phone. “We’ll bring her round the back. Everything clear?”

It hurts so damn much, losing my brother. What is worse is that I am now my daddy’s only remaining child. I know what that means…. At merely eighteen years old, I will be told I’ll have to run the famiglia when he passes away.

I never asked for this life. It was given to me with no option of giving it up, especially now that Lorenzo is gone. His face makes another appearance in my mind, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief like they used to, and I feel a tear trickle down my cheeks. Lorenzo and I had always been close, growing up together as if we were true siblings despite our mothers being sworn enemies. Lorenzo always treated me well, like a real sister. I will miss that man dearly. He was my big brother, my rock, my protector. Now, he is just gone.

My fists clench, my knuckles whitening. Once again, I wish I could get my hands on the man who did this to my family. I would fucking kill that cazzo.

The car door opens and a hand reaches inside for me. I let Franco, my bodyguard, help me out. I pull down my Prada sunglasses to shield my eyes from the sunlight. Franco gently but firmly leads me through a throng of other burly, broad-shouldered men.

All here to protect me.

I’m only now realizing my life might be in danger, too. I know my father has at least one sworn enemy who would love to see my white summer dress soaked in blood. My blood.

“Miss Da Costa, follow me, please,” a rattled assistant tells me, leading me inside daddy’s mansion. She looks nervous as hell.

Despite being his daughter, I rarely come to his house. Daddy’s wife only passed away a year or so ago, and she never liked me being here. Even though she’s gone now, I don’t like being in this place. It’s like a mausoleum – a huge, deserted mansion that gives me the creeps. It’s nothing more than a pretty building with no soul.

“Is daddy waiting for me?” I ask nervously, biting on my fingernail. I don’t want to hear the news, I really don’t.

Bianca, you’re now my only child. When I die, you will hold the future of this family in your hands. First, we need to find you a husband, and then we toughen you up.

I can see my future life materializing in front of me. I know I’ll be protected even more than I am now, shielded as if I’m a porcelain doll.

“Miss Bianca, your father will tell you everything in due time,” the assistant cuts me off, opening the door to my father’s salon. She gives me an expectant look, finally gently pushing me inside the room. “Go on, then. Don’t stall.” She shuts the door after I enter.

I walk inside the room, my heels clacking on the floor. I’m dressed the way daddy likes it – girly and innocent. My six inch strappy heels are my own form of rebellion.

“Daughter.” His deep voice greets me, thick with emotion. I know losing his son has broken daddy, and I swallow the lump in my throat when he embraces me. Daddy is a big man, tall and slightly overweight, and I get lost in his intense hug. It feels good to pretend, to forget about everything, if only for a brief moment. I do notice his clothes appear to be hanging on his frame, though, and I tell him to see a better tailor, as stupid as that is.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” I tell him, my voice already strained from holding back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes any moment now. “Are you alright?”

He sighs as he lets go of me, keeping me at an arm’s length so he can observe me. His eyes show approval when he sees my dress, but once his gaze lands on my shoes, I can tell he’s displeased about my small misdemeanor. He doesn’t mention it, though, too preoccupied with the reason why he called me here.

“I am sorry about Lorenzo,” I say, my heart heavy. “It is horrible news, daddy…. Absolutely horrible. How are you holding up?”

“We need to speak,” he interrupts me right away. I can tell the subject of my brother will not be breached again. This has happened before – every time somebody in our family dies, my father refuses to acknowledge it. I can play this game. After all, I’ve done it plenty of times before.

I nod solemnly. He points for me to sit down in an overly stuffed armchair, and I sink into its softness with a feeling of dread creeping up on me once again. Daddy doesn’t sit down next to me, instead choosing to pace the room nervously as I wait for his speech.

“You are all I have left,” he says in a grave voice. “All I have now, my daughter, my beautiful Bianca. And no one is going to take you away from me.” There is raw determination in his voice, and I know there will be no arguing with him.

I think about speaking up for a second, perhaps asking for mercy. Of course, in my father’s eyes, it wouldn’t be mercy. Being the heir to our crime family is the highest honor in his eyes. I quickly change my mind and remain silent, waiting for daddy to deliver his blow.

“Bianca, you will need to be trained to protect yourself. You will need to be surrounded by guards constantly. I will send two additional members of security to your house tomorrow – they will ensure you are always safe,” he says, and I cringe.

Even less privacy.

Even more monitoring.

My life as I knew it is over.

Daddy sits down in a sofa opposite me and clasps my hand in his. “I have already found you a husband,” he tells me. His voice is devoid of emotion as I take a sharp intake of air. How can he be so blasé about all this, when my heart is threatening to pound straight out of my chest?

I am only eighteen years old. My life is supposed to be beginning, but instead it’s over before I even had a chance to experience anything. I was private-schooled for most of my life, and I’d pleaded for months with daddy to let me go to college once I finished my high school education. I’d gotten his approval after numerous pleas and so much crying my eyes sting just thinking about it. But of course, with Lorenzo gone, all those hopes for my future have died.

And now I am to be married.

“Who?” I ask softly, making sure to keep my voice strong. Daddy can’t see me breaking now, I must be strong for him. I am no longer an insolent teenager in his eyes. I am his only heir. “Who is to be my husband?”

“His name is Giovanni Peretta,” Daddy says matter-of-factly. “He is rich. You will want for nothing, cara mia.”

The name doesn’t ring a bell. I can feel my bottom lip quivering as my eyes silently plead with daddy to change his mind. He averts my gaze, looking everywhere and anywhere but into my teary eyes.

“How old is he?” I rasp, fearing the answer.

“Fifty-two,” Daddy says, without missing a beat. My heart feels like it’s taken a punch, and so does my head. I am only eighteen years old. I cannot marry a man who could easily be my father!

“Why?” I ask. I am already feeling petulant, and I can tell daddy has noticed. His mouth is set in a thin line as he gets up from the sofa and walks away, turning his back to me.

“He will take good care of you. He will protect you. He will ensure you are safe, and it’s a good business match, as well. He works in San Diego. It will be good for us.” He’s shooting facts at me as if they will make me change my mind. As if all this information will change the fact I must marry a man more than forty years my senior.

“I don’t want to.” I don’t mean to say it, but the words still escape my lips. They are quivering, desperate for daddy to hug me and tell me it’s all just a horrible misunderstanding. Unfortunately, we both know this is the way things have to be.

“Don’t argue,” daddy says. No-nonsense. The way it’s going to be. Tears well up in my eyes, but he doesn’t want to see them. Daddy just walks away from me, but manages to throw me one last regretful glance over his shoulder.

“The wedding will be in two months,” he says.

Two months. Two months until my freedom is stripped from me. Not a long time for an eighteen-year-old girl.

Daddy doesn’t wait. He doesn’t offer me a hug. He just exits the room, leaving me sitting in the armchair. My heart is breaking for the life I could have had, for the life I’d been dreaming of. But daddy just shattered those dreams into a thousand shards, and I don’t have any hope for a normal future.

“Are you ready to leave, Miss Bianca?”

A soft voice interrupts my thoughts, and I look up to see the frazzled assistant who’d helped me before. At least she looks like she feels sorry for me. I get up, feeling angry and helpless. I nod and I follow her back down the hall in the direction from which I came. Always the good little mafia daughter. I don’t dare disobey, not after what happened to my brother Lorenzo.

I am only now realizing how very alone I am in the world. My mother is gone, so is my brother. Truly, daddy is all I have left.

On impulse, I break away from the assistant and rush towards my daddy’s quarters. I can hear the woman shouting after me, but I’m too fast and determined for her to catch me right away. I need to see daddy one more time. I have to beg for a life of my own – I owe it to myself.

I burst through the door leading into daddy’s private lounge room, but as soon as I enter, the words never make it out of my mouth. My daddy is sitting in an armchair, looking pale and sickly. He’s hooked up to some sort of machine and a red fluid is rushing in and out of his body. I can only stare as the assistant finally manages to catch up to me, breathless and panting.

“Daddy!” I finally get out, fear icing its way through my veins. “What’s wrong with you?”

My father looks up at me with the eyes of a man who’s seen the world. He is weary and tired. He is the shell of the man he used to be, not only in his broken mind, but his fragile body, too.

How am I only noticing this now? How have I managed to ignore every warning sign, the fact that he was losing weight and looking paler and so very sick? I am only seeing it now, the cracks in his well-groomed appearance.

Yes, his shoes are made from the most expensive Italian leather there is, and yes, his suit is hand-crafted by a designer whose pieces cost an arm and a leg. But underneath that exterior, daddy looks ill. His skin is an unhealthy yellow color, his hair thin and receding. He looks…ill.

A sob escapes me and I rush towards him, falling on my knees in front of his chair. Daddy’s fingers gently stroke the top of my head and he motions for the assistant to leave. She only hesitates for a moment before letting us be.

“I am sick, cara mia,” daddy tells me matter-of-factly. “I don’t have a lot of time left.”

He admits to having a kidney transplant a few months ago, and he delves into more details, including why he is hooked up to this horrible machine that he tells me is a dialysis machine. While it looked as if the transplant was working out at first, his kidneys have started failing again. Once his kidneys fail, his other organs will follow suit, failing like dominoes..

I listen to my father, the only person I have left of my family, tell me that he is dying. The strong man who has taken care of me my whole life – the only one I have left – will leave me soon. Whether it’s a matter of weeks or months, neither of us knows.

“Remember, I love you,” my daddy says. He is not one to speak of emotions, and it surprises me to hear those words coming from his lips. It also makes the whole situation that much more serious.

“It sounds like you’re saying goodbye,” I tell him. He doesn’t reply, which only confirms my doubts, and my heart throbs with pain. “I don’t want to say goodbye, daddy.”

He holds me in his arms for a while as I sob, my heart writhing in anguish. I’m realizing I would do anything for my father. Even marry the man he chose for me. He always knew what was best for me, and I shouldn’t argue with him now. Despite the protest rising in my throat, I manage to bite my tongue and stay quiet.

When I’ve finally calmed down, daddy lets me go. The rhythmic beeping of the dialysis machine is now in harmony with the beating of my heart. Steady, but always reminding me the end is drawing near.

“Be safe, Bianca,” my daddy tells me. “It’s a dangerous world out there. Everything I’ve done over the years, cara, was only to ensure your safety. I’m sorry if it upsets you.”

Now is my chance to speak up, say I don’t want to marry that man. Yet I don’t say a thing. I’m too choked up from seeing my strong father so vulnerable. I just nod solemnly and give him one last hug, always knowing this might be the last time I have a chance to do that.

I leave the room, my father’s haunted but loving eyes following me with every step I take. The assistant is waiting outside the door, and she won’t meet my eye. She’s blushing and looks even more nervous than before. I let it go. I’m too preoccupied thinking about daddy’s and my own fates.

The woman walks me outside the front entry into the blazing sunlight and, just as I’m about to leave, she turns towards me and gently touches my arm. My guards aren’t here yet, and I recoil from her touch, unsure what she wants.