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The morning sunlight filters in through gossamer curtains, caressing my face with gentle warmth. I blink my eyes open slowly, still cradled in the hazy remnants of sleep. For a blissful moment, I forget where I am, but reality comes crashing down as I take in the lavish details of the room. Silk sheets as smooth as water ripple around me, more luxurious than anything I've ever known. I run my hand over the embroidered comforter, tracing the intricate floral patterns stitched in golden thread. On the walls hang paintings in gilded frames, landscapes of idyllic Tuscan scenes. This bedroom alone is worth more than my modest apartment back in the city.
I'm a fish out of water here in the opulent Ricci mansion. Just yesterday, I was a normal college student focused on art history exams and weekend plans. Now I'm a pawn caught in my father's unpayable debt to the mafia. The thought makes my chest tighten.
With a sigh, I slip out from beneath the silken covers, the cool air raising goosebumps on my skin. Making my way to the ensuite bathroom, I find a set of luxurious toiletries and a silk robe already laid out for me. The Riccis think of everything—though I know it's not out of kindness. A long, hot shower manages to wash away some of the lingering unease from yesterday. I take my time, letting the water sluice over my body, wishing it could rinse away this mess I’m trapped in. After drying my chestnut waves, I twist them into a practical bun. The one thing they didn't provide, however, is a fresh set of clothes. I guess this pair will have to last another day before I can try to wash them discreetly in the bathroom sink tonight.
My stomach flutters with nerves as I descend the grand staircase, gripping the polished mahogany banister to steady myself. The opulent mansion makes me feel as delicate as the crystal chandelier suspended above. Men's voices drift in from the dining room ahead, five distinct timbres engaged in casual conversation and easy laughter. The sound puts me slightly more at ease. Still, my heart pounds like a jackrabbit's as I enter the sun-filled room.
Five men sit around a massive table laden with an assortment of breakfast foods. My mouth waters at the spread - fluffy scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, toast drizzled with olive oil and herbs. Each of the brothers has a heaping plate in front of them and they gesture animatedly as they engage in some heated discussion. At the head of the table sits Antonio Ricci, more passive than the others, but his presence dominates the room. Everything about the eldest Ricci brother exudes complete control, from his athletic build to his immaculately tousled dark hair. But those intense dark eyes see straight through me, stirring an unwanted flutter low in my belly. I quickly avert my gaze, willing my nerves to settle.
"Buongiorno, Clara!" One of the men rises from his seat to greet me, grin wide. He looks the youngest, maybe 24, with a sleeve of tattoos and tousled hair hinting at his rebellious side. His warm demeanor helps relax my frayed nerves.
"Morning," I manage softly, offering a timid smile.
"I'm Giovanni, and the only name at this table worth remembering." He waves a dismissive hand toward his brothers. "That's Lorenzo, Pietro, Rafael, and I believe you met Antonio yesterday."
As if anyone in this city couldn't recognize a Ricci brother from a hundred yards away. Their family rules half the town, their mansion compound a visible symbol of their power and influence.
Giovanni guides me around the table and pulls out the empty chair between his and Antonio's, holding it for me as I sit. As if I'm a long-awaited guest instead of their prisoner.
Across from me, Lorenzo and Pietro both nod politely. The two brothers appear close in age, early thirties at most, but that’s where the similarities end. Lorenzo has a refined intensity, contrasting Pietro’s calm, thoughtful manner. But they both emanate warmth, helping to settle my rattled nerves. Rafael, nearly as muscular as Antonio, offers me the barest hint of a smile.
"Please, help yourself to some breakfast." Antonio's smooth, yet authoritative voice rolls over me. He gestures to the spread on the table with an elegant hand. I avoid meeting those intense eyes again for fear they’ll hear my heart hammering against my ribs.
My empty stomach rumbles despite the anxiety swirling within. I load my plate conservatively, hyperaware of the four sets of eyes subtly tracking my every move. But the rich aromas awaken my appetite, and I take my first bite. The burst of flavors on my tongue elicits an involuntary hum of satisfaction. Pietro chuckles at my reaction.
"Buon appetito," Antonio murmurs, the hint of a smile playing at his full lips.
As we eat, easy banter volleys between the brothers. I can’t help but envy their casual intimacy, reminding me of my own fractured family.
"Giovanni, don't even try taking the last piece of bacon," Lorenzo warns lightheartedly. "You know I always claim it."
Giovanni raises his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. But only if you finally admit my new tattoo is cooler than yours." He grins and flexes his sleeve of ink.
Lorenzo just laughs. “In your dreams, little brother.” He pops the bacon into his mouth, eyes glinting playfully.
Their affectionate teasing makes me smile despite everything. I’ve always wanted a big family like this. A pang of homesickness pierces through me.
"So Clara." Giovanni turns his attention to me. "Have you seen the game room upstairs yet? We've got air hockey, pool, pinball, anything you could want."
I shake my head, tucking a stray hair behind my ear self-consciously. "No, I haven't seen much beyond my room yet."
"Well, we'll have to fix that! Give you a proper tour so you don't get lost wandering this giant old place." He winks at me playfully.
Antonio clears his throat, leveling a pointed look at Giovanni. "I’m certain Clara has more pressing concerns than playing arcade games." His terse tone makes me shrink into myself.
Giovanni ducks his head, chastened. "Of course, you’re right. My apologies."
Antonio’s abrupt shutdown stirs an unexpected pang in my chest. I glance his way, but he avoids my gaze.
"Pay him no mind," Pietro chimes in gently. "But let me know if you require assistance finding your way around. This estate can be quite a maze."
I offer Pietro a small, grateful smile. "Thank you, I appreciate that." His calm demeanor helps settle my frazzled nerves once more.
After a few heartbeats of awkward silence, I work up the courage to ask, "Will your parents be joining us for breakfast as well?" Anxiety twists my insides at the thought of facing Don Ricci again so soon.
Giovanni almost chokes on his food, suppressing a laugh until Lorenzo silences him with a glare.
"Our parents spend most of their time at a smaller residence across the city,” Lorenzo explains. “They only come here for official family events."
