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Alora Age 21
Isatonthe bench, Nick kneeling on one knee in front of me, wrapping my hands. Watching as a new guy sparred with Gino. “Take it easy today,” he said, finishing wrapping my left hand.
I stood up and sighed, stretching my neck, “Nick, I’m fine.” I hopped up and down, getting the blood flow going. I glanced across the room full of men. Made men. My dad’s men. A boxing ring on the left side, a huge fighting mat in the middle, and benches around the perimeter. Several boxing bags were hung from the ceiling by metal chains. Men standing on both sides punching and holding bags firmly as their partners threw punches and kicks at them.
“Just don’t start anything, I don't want to deal with any bullshit today!” Nick said as he stood.
It took me two years of pleading before dad finally let me start training with the men. I shook my head, remembering the conversation in his office. “Women have no business at the training grounds, Alora,” he told me sternly. Marco walked up next to me, “Gabriele, let the girl train. She is your only heir. She needs to know how to protect herself.” So he agreed. And at 12, I started training alongside some of the most merciless men in the business. Dad and I barely talked, unless he was barking orders, dragging me off to some meeting to distract some dirty old man just enough to get him to agree to whatever Gabriele Rossi wanted at the moment. I would go play my part, pretend to be interested in these pigs, but I wouldn't let them touch me. And that was the one thing in this messed up world he and I agreed on. He made it very clear to anyone and everyone that I was off limits, and they were not allowed to touch me. Which made no sense to me, he didn't seem to care about me one way or the other.
Of course, most men took this as a challenge and figured they could sneak a touch when dear old daddy wasn't watching. Much to their dismay, they would find out that I wouldn't let it slide. This morning he told me to dress nice and be ready to go to a meeting at five. I was used to it, he did this all the time. But something was different, the look on his face was off and he seemed worried. And Gabriele Rossi was not a man who became worried or intimidated very easily.
“Alora, focus.” Nick’s voice brought me out of my memory.
I walked over to the punching bag in his arms. “Sorry.” I bent my knees, hands in front of my face. I punched the bag right, left, right. Exhaling as my fists connected with the bag, barely making Nick move. “Who’s the new guy?”
Nick glanced over at the mat. “Gino’s Nephew, he wants to be made at the next ceremony. We’ve got a couple more joining us this week too.”
“He looks soft, young. How old is he?”
Nick laughed. “He’s the same age as you. And yeah, I don’t think he is cut out for this world.”
I spun and kicked the bag hard. “You and I both know growing up here, you’re a lot older than growing outside these fences.”
Nick nodded. “You’re not wrong. But you’ve also been shielded from a lot too. Your dad has kept you out of it.”
I took in a long deep breath and went after the punching bag. Right hook, left hook, knee, knee, knee, roundhouse kick, knocking Nick back away from the bag. “How the hell am I supposed to be ready as the only Heir if he won’t let me in on anything?”
Nick grabbed the bag, stopping it from swinging. “Al, you know he is never going to let you take over without…” He stopped and looked at me.
“Without a man, he deems worthy to run things by my side.” I grabbed the bag in my hands, and shoved it towards him, “I don’t need a damn man by my side.”
“Oh, Mafia princess got her panties in a twist today?”
I turned to see Michael standing there, a smug look on his face. He was always giving me a hard time and had been calling me Mafia Princess since we were eight. I rolled my eyes. “Eat me, Michael.”
“Just say when and where,” he crossed his arms to his chest.
I turned, fists ready to punch him. “You wouldn’t know what to do if I did.” I glanced down at the front of his shorts, then back to his face. “Besides, I’ve been in the locker room, not much going on down there.”
He grits his teeth, stepping towards me, hands in fists at his side.
“Okay,” Nick said, grabbing me by the waist, “settle down.” He put himself between Micheal and me. “How do you think the boss would react to you saying that to his only daughter?”
“Relax, I’m just messing with her.” He walked past me, leaning down, whispering in my ear. “I’ll show you just how big I am.” He bumped my shoulder and walked off.
Nick looked at me. “Why do you goad him?”
I shrugged. “You know I have to give everyone as much as I get if I want to be respected.” Not that any of them respected me anyways, not really. Not as anything more than the daughter of Gabriele Rossi. They only respected me as much as they did, because they were afraid of him.
“Let’s hit the mats.”
I followed him over, as we fought on the mat. He kept pinning me, I’d fight until I couldn't take it anymore, then tap out. I tapped out for the tenth time, not getting him in a lock once. He stood up, offering me his hand. “Let’s call it a day.” We walked back over to the bench, I grabbed my water and leaned against the wall. Squirting a big gulp into my mouth. “What is with you today? You are off your game.”
“Dad wants me to be in his office and ready to go at five, dressed nicely.”
“And? What is any different than the other five hundred times he’s told you that?”
I shook my head. “I don't know, the look on his face. The feeling in the pit of my stomach. Something just seems off.”
