A Love So Twisted

I held the razor-sharp knife tightly. I took no notice of the way the blade cut deep into the flesh of my palm. I took no notice of my crimson blood which spilled out and stained the carpet below.

It actually relieved me. To feel my body in physical pain was a great distraction from the emotional pain that troubled me. I wasn't one to harm myself but I didn't know how to react and my knife was just there.

Father wanted me to get married to a stranger. No, he forced me to. He left me with no choice. Granted, I could run, I could hide, but I wouldn't do something like that.

Throughout my whole life, I had been nothing but a disappointment to him and this affirmed it. I was nothing more than a mere commodity; an object to trade at his will. He never fucking liked me and I did nothing to earn his approval because I would never get it.

My name was Sienna Zannotti, and I was the Don of the Italian mafia. Father only passed it down to me because he was aging and had no male heirs, which was quite unfortunate for the bastard.

He didn't even have any illegitimate sons even though he fucked different whores day in and day out. He hated watching me take over his mafia, making it mine, making the power mine, but I never asked for this life.

Sadly, I grew up as an only child being raised by maids and nannies. Father was far too busy and he was disgusted by me anyway.

The phrase "You killed your mother" was something I heard every single day of my life. Mother, my beautiful mother died during childbirth. I didn't mean to kill her, I didn't ask to be born. So there he was, my cruel wicked father, who forced Mother into marrying him.

I knew he definitely forced her because she couldn't have been in love with him. The maids often told me what a beauty mother was, how wildly spirited she was, and how father broke her piece by piece. In a way, I was glad that she was not here. She broke free and I was still here.

So here I sat, thinking of a way out. Running away was impossible. If I were to run away, my whole life would be false. I was born to be a Don. The power ran in my veins.

Besides, Father would hunt me down and no doubt have someone kill me while I slept. Perhaps I could kill the bastard. But if someone found out, I would be screwed over.

I was only twenty-three years old and he had offered my hand in marriage without even asking me. I knew he would have never even asked.

The thought had never crossed my mind. Perhaps a couple of times when I was a young girl. But I always imagined marrying a prince, not the boss of the American Mafia.

The American Mafia was well known for its reputation for being manipulative and brutal. They were deadly, even I was impressed. The mafia boss I didn't know much about, only his name.

I was to be wedded to Eric Connall. The roles of women in Mafias were very traditional. They were to obey and serve.

If Father thought that uniting our Mafias through marriage would mean I'd give up my mafia to  Eric, he had got another thing coming.

And if the fucking Eric Connall expected me to obey and serve him, I'd gladly cut out his fucking heart and shove it down his throat.

Father, as he put it, gave me away to form an alliance with the American mafia. To ensure peace between our mafia and theirs. No one wanted a war. It was a strategic move and nothing more.

"Cara!" I yelled.

Not a moment later a pretty blonde entered my bedroom. Cara was my best friend and one of my many guards. She was highly intelligent and a skilled killer. I wanted a woman to be my personal guard mainly to overthrow the patriarchal system in the mafia.

“Cara, I need you to call a maid to pack my things ready for tomorrow," I said as I stared down at my hand.

Dried blood coated my fingertips as the cut on my palm still bled. The pain didn't bother me. I had suffered worse and survived.

Cara nodded and walked over to me. She sighed, kneeling beside me. She gently held my hand in hers as she prodded the knife from my grip.

"Let's get you cleaned up." She smiled warmly.

She didn't ask what happened because she knew. I watched her bandage my hand gently and very neatly.

I felt numb, cold, and alone as I sipped scotch from a clear crystal glass in hopes that it would make me feel warm inside but it never did. My hand throbbed almost as much as the headache I had now acquired.

"Your father still wants you to marry?" Cara asked as she took a seat on the edge of my bed, crossing her legs.

She knew that I had practically begged him to stop this marriage, and she knew how he just laughed at me, telling me to fuck off.

"Yes."

I walked over to my balcony windows and looked up into the night sky. Stars glimmered and shone, with a shooting star falling, and I wished for happiness.

I had argued with father to no avail. It was a done deal. I ran a finger down my cheek where Father slapped me last. I may not have been bruised but I'd always remember.

I closed my eyes as I wished for his death over and over again. If only I could do it and free myself but that was another predicament. If I killed him, my mafia would turn on me. I'd be shunned and disowned. After all, there was no crime greater than killing your own blood.

I turned back to face Cara. Her brown eyes held so much pity for me. I didn't like that one bit, but I appreciated her so much. "I just want to be alone right now," I said, my voice laced with sadness.

She lowered her eyes to the ground, then walked over to me and placed a hand on my shoulder to reassure me. There was nothing more she could say or do. I felt her fingers lightly squeeze my shoulder before she left my room, closing the door behind her.

I wasn't alone for long as a maid came by to pack my things. I drank some more scotch while I watched her scramble to pack my clothes.

"Don't fucking pack my lingerie. Are you insane? Do you think I'm just going to fuck him?" I growled and the maid flinched when I spoke.

I knew I was being too harsh, but I was fucking angry. What if he was old or a disgusting womanizer? What if he beat women? I'd never let him touch me.